It seems like just yesterday Dr. Anthony Fauci was just another nerd in a lab coat studying esoteric sciences to provide for a family who wished he went into finance.
Today, he’s the cock of the walk, a certified sex symbol, the defining voice of a pandemic.
We must take his orders very seriously. Here are just a few of them.
Dr. Fauci endorses convincing yourself at least three (3) times a week that a typical growing pain—chest flutter, achy joints, shallow breath walking up steps—is an indicator that you have contracted the virus and you need to get your affairs in order. Really sell it until you work yourself into a full-blown panic attack.
Dr. Fauci endorses beginning every work email with “Hope you’re staying safe!” as a friendly reminder that the recipient could very well die from this.
Dr. Fauci is allowing dinner preparation to temporarily serve as an excuse to polish off enough craft beers to prohibit you from being able to taste the chicken.
Dr. Fauci is advising Americans to change their underwear no more than twice a week during quarantine, because what’s the fucking point? Doc’s words not mine.
Dr. Fauci is recommending Americans eagerly download the Peloton app and then never use it.
Dr. Fauci is allowing at least one unwarranted tantrum directed at your significant other per day during the remainder of quarantine. Today I plan to put my fist through the drywall because my brain is not capable of completing a puzzle intended for children.
Dr. Fauci is now allowing Americans to convince themselves that their recent dependence on alcohol is just a temporary fix in unprecedented times. There are currently 2.8 hospital beds per 1,000 Americans, but when this pandemic passes experts predict will be just one Alcoholics Anonymous chair for 1,000 Americans. Trading one disease for a funner one. Smart, doc.
Dr. Fauci recommends backing out of at least two (2) Zoom calls a week. If you weren’t close with them before, you certainly won’t be as the world ends.
Dr. Fauci suggests sending one (1) Big Penis Guy meme per day to your favorite text threads. If the phrase Big Penis Guy doesn’t elicit the image of a penis fit for the bed of a Ford F-150, I’m sorry, you don’t have many friends.
Dr. Fauci recommends becoming increasingly defensive when your significant other questions your choice to drink before noon in an effort to intimidate her into being complicit as you permanently damage your liver.
Dr. Fauci is urging me to leave my wife if she asks me to play one more fucking board game.
Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s my turn in Monopoly. Does this goddamn game ever end?