Let's ban together

I like bacon. So call me “bacon boy” if it gives you a warm and crispy feeling on the inside. Amazingly, not everyone shares my passion for the crinkly pork product, sizzling away on the stovetop and stirring up childhood memories with an unmistakably Proustian flavor. No, there are those who can’t figure the meat out, viewing it as an enemy to be defeated rather than an ally to be respected. Maybe Porky Pig resides within their emotional core, preventing them from eating cousins of the silly but lovable cartoon character. It’s not something I can relate to, having spent a lifetime admiring and praying to Daffy Duck while also feasting on the delicious fowl during many a late night bacchanal.

These people burn themselves constantly – mostly the unnatural byproduct of nude cooking, notoriously in vogue during our troubling and solitary times. They say self-expression and self-love go hand-in-hand (though not literally, since that would be a clear violation of the six-foot rule) with self-quarantining. Thus being a result of too much time spent at home. It’s worth noting that kitchens and bathrooms do indeed have a great deal in common. They are where the real action happens. 

Given that certain people can’t seem to cook bacon without boiling their own skin instead of the pig’s, I’d be in favor of an unequivocal bacon ban. New York City’s recent plastic bag prohibition inspired me to imagine a world that’s full of bans, both big and small. It’s only fair that everything in society should be either mandated or forbidden. And my personal joy at cracklin’ fat is not relevant to the discussion. We don’t have the time or the intellect to decide what’s safe or smart any longer. I need someone telling me if my straw is up to snuff. Or if my pants are biodegradable. Or if my shorts are edible and my sandals are combustible. It’s appointed officials chosen by elected officials not chosen by me who are the ones born to do it. If at all possible, I'd rather not think.

Mandate smiling at strangers unless you’re wearing a face mask, then waving and giving an extended thumbs up is a fair alternative. Require coffee shops to become tea houses since “coffee” and “cough” are dangerously close in sound if not also in substance. Because nose picking is such an economic and cultural driver, it should be only done with cotton skewers. Gone are days when someone can casually bury their knuckle at wounded nostril using techniques straight out of mines of Harlan County, West Virginny. 

Banning gatherings over 10, handshakes of any kind and team sports is a nice start. There are creative solutions that’ll arise from the crisis, too. One can imagine a new type of bed that gives couples the six feet necessary to sleep safely and comfortably. Let’s call it a “Corona King.” Better separate than sorry.  

You could try banning the virus. Though it’s probably too late for that. Mandating it might be a little easier.