Admit it: monkeypox is kind of funny – The Spectator Australia
When monkeypox crept onto the scene last month, with a handful of confirmed cases in the US, it seemed too absurd to be taken seriously by anyone who’d been paying attention over the last two years. Americans wised up to media malfeasance and career scammers in our health bureaucracies, rolled their eyes and thought, here we go again.
The name itself, monkeypox, couldn’t be scarier — like something from a doomsday novel, or cooked up in an editorial meeting to provoke maximum panic. White liberals — the inexhaustible, ever-dutiful and poised-for-action enforcers of tyranny — had a different issue: the name’s racist. White liberals, for some reason, think the word “monkey,” no matter the context, conjures up images of black people, and they’re compelled to say so out loud — completely oblivious to what this says about them and the way they think.
But that didn’t last long. It turned out monkeypox isn’t a “black” disease — as if such a thing existed — but a gay disease. The name comes from the fact that it was first discovered among laboratory monkeys in Denmark in 1958. The 2022 outbreak is the first instance of community transmission outside of Africa, and it started in May 2022 at an orgy in the UK. Now with 16,000 cases worldwide, the World Health Organization, which also wanted to change the name, has declared monkeypox a global health emergency.
But that’s not exactly the case. Now that we know a bit more about monkeypox, it’s time to admit the whole thing is pretty funny.
Take, for example, a typical case of how one pleasant young man in Palm Springs, California, got monkeypox. Going by the name BabethePigBoi on Twitter, he posted an “honest account” of how he’d contracted the virus. He’d just recovered from Covid and feeling “back into the swing of things” he attended a friend’s “birthday orgy” on July 9 where he came into “sexual contact with somewhere in the ballpark of 15-20 different men,” and “guzzled a metric fuckton of human piss.”
BabethePigBoi then went on to detail the rest of his weekend. At some point after the birthday orgy, he appears to have attended another orgy where he had sex with fifteen more men. The following Friday, he says he hooked up with three different guys and on Saturday had a four-way with “some local piss pigs.” Then he started feeling a little sick — physically, that is, because the spiritual is implied.
I’ve got nothing against people going to orgies — knock yourself out — but I’m trying to imagine the sad sap who hosts an orgy for his birthday. We all have that over-the-top birthday friend who spends months planning his big day. You absolutely dread getting dressed up for some adventure that’ll end up costing you a few hundred bucks. No one has fun, including the host. What happens when, instead of an expensive dinner at Per Se, you’re required to attend an orgy just to show someone you appreciate them? If you decline the invitation to the birthday orgy, is he going to think you aren’t his friend? And are you required to bang the birthday boy, or how does that work? I imagine everyone at the orgy must feel some pressure to give the birthday slut a little attention, whether they want to or not — and that’s pretty sick.
BabethePigBoi’s takeaway from this whole experience? “My 2 cents: it’s reductive to tell gay people to not have sex, it didn’t work in the early days of AIDS and clearly it’s not working now. Do your best to make educated choices,” he wrote.
Monkeypox is gross and, by many accounts, an awful experience. But even global health bureaucrats have admitted there’s virtually no chance of death or severe complications from this strain of the virus. After I read BabethePigBoi’s bawdy thread, I came across a video posted on Instagram where a thirst-trap-looking guy suffering from the pox removes a bandage from his face to reveal a disgusting, black, quarter-size, festering hole in his cheek.
Melodramatic piano music plays and the man looks into the camera, whimpering, “Fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck,” each time weightier than the last. I couldn’t help but laugh harder and harder each time I watched it. A normal person would just disappear for a week!
The other funny part is that in over 90 percent of cases, patients got those gross blisters on their faces. There’s some sort of cruel, cosmic joke there — that “men who have sex with men,” the most vain, self-conscious and shallow population on Earth, should be the ones affected most, and during swimsuit season no less.
The US now leads the world in monkeypox cases, with nearly 3,500 confirmed as of Tuesday, which seems to dispel Vice President Kamala Harris’s recent statement that in America people aren’t free to love openly. Science says they’re loving very, extremely openly, actually — and it’s splattered all over their faces.
After a brief backlash against associating this disease with hyper-slutty gay men, governments, the media and the gays themselves have relinquished the stigma. Yep, it’s us, aren’t we messy, they’re finally admitting. While vaccines in major cities are being reserved only for men who have sex with men, in a turn of events, the gays otherwise want the government to stay out of it.
In New York City, gay bars, including a gay sex club called the Eagle, instituted Covid vaccine mandates ahead of being required to by the state. Some gay establishments are still requiring proof of Covid vaccination, even though virtually nowhere else in the country still does. So far, I am saddened to report, no gay club appears to be requiring similar proof of monkeypox vaccination.
And why would they? The gay establishment’s allegiance to the Covid narrative exposed just how lockstep this community has become when enforcing the rules of authority. Covid was about allegiance to the state and powerful institutions — it was about cozying up to the liberal world order. For monkeypox, gays have accepted this is a gay disease — one that, for the time being, is only affecting that community — and they don’t want the World Health Organization interfering with their freedom to spread it around.
It’s childlike. During Covid, busybody homosexuals clung to the teacher’s skirt, pointing fingers at everyone who was breaking the rules. Now, with their community in the crosshairs, they just want to be left alone to “make educated choices.”
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