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Day 1
Well, shit. Just tested positive for the woke-mind virus despite taking every precaution against wokeness. I write Christopher Columbus fan fiction, wear Confederate-flag underwear, and don’t neuter my dogs because I’m just that pro-life.
Guess the woke virus doesn’t discriminate. Typical.
Day 4
Downloaded Disney+ while in a fugue state. When I came to, I told myself it was only to watch “Wicked Tuna,” but if that were true why would I have “She-Hulk” queued up? Don’t get me wrong—a female attorney is a hilarious premise. I just don’t buy that she could outlift me.
Reasserted my anti-wokeness by uninstalling Disney+ and calling the app the R-word.
Day 5
Just realized that I wrote “the R-word” yesterday instead of the actual word. The virus is taking hold. . . .
Day 7
Caught myself admiring a rainbow on my lunch break. Made a hard U-turn in my Yukon XL and sped straight to the nearest Chick-fil-A. Ordered two chicken sandwiches and four sides of waffle fries to show the virus who’s the alpha.
Day 12
Absentmindedly pushing around my Goya alphabet pasta, I was mortified to realize that I’d spelled out “B.L.M.” I replaced the “B” with an “A,” but my virus-addled mind turned that into “A.C.A.B.” So I took the bowl out back and lit it up with my AR-15.
Tried to console myself by putting on Louis C.K.’s “Chewed Up,” but I kept wrestling with questions of whether we can ever truly separate the art from the artist. I fear the end is near.
Day 17
My condition is deteriorating rapidly. This afternoon, I was updating my LinkedIn profile because I got laid off pre-virus for “aggressively quoting ‘Django Unchained.’ ” I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I added my pronouns. Just for a few seconds! Then I deleted them and lit up that Dell with my AR-15.
Day 23
My mind is not my own. An Egyptian family moved in down the street, and we say hi and make small talk. They’re Muslims, but lately I find myself . . . thinking of them as human beings? Jesus, what’s happening to me? What’s next, sipping Bud Light through a bamboo straw?
No. I can’t let the virus win. I have to do something.
Day 30
Hallelujah! I’ve arrived in Florida, “where woke goes to die.” Got a nice little spot in Pensacola. I can’t wait to recuperate while taking in all the air shows, pirate-themed seafood joints, and segregated proms.
My health is in the hands of God and Ron DeSantis now. For the first time in weeks, I feel optimistic.
Day 96
Haven’t written an entry in a while because I’ve been doing so well. A couple of months ago, I thought I was dying, and by that point I was woke enough to try something called “dignity therapy.” The doc told me that wokeness isn’t so much a virus as it is a pursuit of historical and socioeconomic awareness, elevated empathy, and personal growth. Shit, you could have knocked me over with a feather.
Now I spend every Wednesday down at drag bingo; I donate to the A.C.L.U.; and the only things I’m lighting up with my AR-15 are Harry Potter books.
The virus won. Thank God for that! ♦
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