Magazine April 5, 2021, Issue

Rebel without a Mask

A man wearing a protective face mask walks across a sidewalk during the coronavirus pandemic in New York City, March 11, 2021. (Shannon Stapleton/Reuters)

Sure, I wear the mask. It’s probably as porous as the Biden-era southern border, but until I’m poked in the arm with miracle juice, that’s how things are. What I don’t get are the people who drive alone wearing masks. Why? In case someone on the radio has COVID? It’s like someone who put condoms on every finger to read Playboy during the age of AIDS.

Since I mask up as duly commanded, I don’t suffer the obloquy of the self-appointed Public-Health Commissars. But. The other day I was crossing the street on the outskirts of downtown Minneapolis, where I work.

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The company that oversees Dr. Seuss’s estate announced that it would no longer license six titles from his oeuvre of more than 60 children’s books.

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