You do not have Ebola. You will never get it, nor come within a mile of anyone who has it. Ebola has not seeped int the soil; it has not been carried aloft by mosquitos; water fountains are to be trusted. The chance that Garcia can name one of his children’s’ teachers–Any child, any grade, just one name–is staggeringly higher than the chances of you contracting Ebola.
One day soon, you will be playing Scrabble, or one of the many Scrabble knock-offs. You will attempt to play the word” Ebola” and it will not be allowed. This will be the worst way in which you are affected by Ebola.
Perhaps you will wonder how much of the coverage of this disease is colored–inexorably and inextricably and inherently–by King Leopold’s ghost, that blood spectre the white fuckers pissed all over the African continent in the last century and whose presence today is seen in foreign-owned minerals and tent cities. Maybe you will read these cultural critiques, these theses, these scholarly exegeses on a toy built for you by underage Chinese labor. You might feel a certain self-awareness come over you. It may lead to gratitude, but probably not, and anyway: the feeling will pass.
But you do not have Ebola.
However, you might. We all might. And in that case, TotD formally advocates assuming that we do and proceeding thusly. I say we move past the initial confusion and get right to running around flailing our arms and biting strangers.
Panic: let’s have one. Start the rumor that “Ebola” is Swahili for “chaos” (and “opportunity.”) Then, run into an opera house and start blindly waving around a sword.
Go to your local bar and tell everyone that the “A” in Ebola stands for “Atheist” and rouse up the rabble to go burn down the atheists’ house down the street. Then burn down a house. (The house doesn’t actually have to have to belong to atheists: you can just tell everyone that. Or not. You know: whatever, as long as a random house gets burned down by a mob.)
Paint the word “Ebola” all over your car and drive it through the Farmer’s Market. You can drive real slow, too.
Panic! At the disco or any other nighttime fun establishment! There is a disease named Ebola! And you will certainly die!
It is a well-known fact that children are filthy vectors of filth and illness, so before you leave your house you should cover every inch of your body with garbage bags, secure all that with duct tape, put on some swim goggles you found in the garage, and tackle every child on sight. You need to get a good run at them: children are rubbery, but you’ve got a huge weight advantage on them, plus the element of surprise. Most children will not be expecting a strange grown-up to tackle them on the street, especially one in a homemade Hazmat suit.
In closing: Keep Calm & You Have Ebola.
You’re a dangerous lunatic.
I don’t know, he made some good points: I have been worried about Ebola, and I’ve heard all of these so-called “experts” and “doctors” tell me that there’s no medical reason that anyone should be worried at all. Now I’ve gotten to hear the other side of the argument: that we should abandon reason and prove those doomsday prepper folks correct. Now I can make my own choice, because I’m informed.
I hate everything about everyone.