I’m waiting to hear the order to load Michiganders into boxcars to take them to the mandatory “vaccination facility.” That hasn’t happened yet, but until then, we’ve got this. The Wolverine State has been put on a three-week lockdown.
Her most majestic amazingness Grand Poobah Gretchen Whitmer and her Ministry of Public Health and Safety hath decreed, effective immediately, lockdowns for just about everyone (that means you).
“Indoor gatherings are the greatest source of spread, and sharply limiting them is our focus,” said Robert Gordon. “The order is targeted and temporary, but a terrible loss of life will be forever unless we act. By coming together today, we can save thousands of lives.”
All organized sports and group exercise classes will be canceled, but gyms will remain open for individual exercise with strict safety measures.
In addition, casinos, movie theaters, bowling alleys, ice skating rinks, bingo halls, arcades and indoor water parks will have to temporarily shut down, and all businesses are asked to allow employees to work from home if possible.
So, no recount then? And no Black Friday. You get Black Thursday instead!
“If you are considering spending Thanksgiving with people outside of your household, I urge you to reconsider,” Whitmer said.
“As hard as it is not seeing [family members] this Thanksgiving, imagine how much harder it would be if you weren’t able to see them for a future holiday ever again,” she added.
The only were not seeing “ever again” (at least in Michigan under Whitmer) is individual liberty or some sense of limitation or constitutional constraints. The public health mule continues dragging tyranny across your rights, and people seem willing to play along.
I’m sure there are plenty of turkeys out there encouraged to snitch on your neighbors. ‘Happy Holidays,’ ‘cuz if you can’t have a good time well, no one can.
But you can give thanks for pesky overlords like Gretchen Whitmer, Andy Cuomo, etc., but do it in small family groups. No friends. And none of that holiday cheer.
You will be made to care, as Skip likes to say.
And how long before we hear those rhetorical boxcars approach from the distance?