DATELINE: Go forth, and die.
It’s now becoming clear that President Trump thinks when your time is up, you are done for. He wants to resume “normal” life, even if it means genocide to large groups of people. Trump is now wearing the robes of the Grim Reaper.
It’s one way to boost the economy: only the strong will survive. It’s Nietzche, Malthus, and madness, all wrapped in one genetic formula. If you are old, poor, disabled, you should die and have done with it.
You are holding up the rest of the human race.
Let the dead bury the dead.
“We who are about to die salute you, who will live.”
Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow, coronavirus will kill you.
Life is for living, and death is for dying.
If this means that half the world buries the other half, Trump is betting your life that he will be among the survivors.
Throw out those old-fashioned notions of science and humanity, your duty is to die if you are among the weakest links in the chain of life. At least, that is the Trump viewpoint.
No respirators for you. No medicine for you. Go about your business until you drop. Those who are meant to live will carry on. You weaklings will fall by the wayside and end your miserable drag on society.
Trump wants a leaner, meaner society: only those who can cough it up and continue.
So long, grandma and gramps, your time is up. You lived your life—and the partygoeers on the beach will not give you much thought after you go. As Trump will tell you, the cure is worse than the sickness.
The disease is over, but the patient died.