Buckle up, folks. Turns out the global pandemic response wasn't so much about science as it was about a tidal wave of “hysterical female energy.” Yes, you read that right. Apparently, the hysteria reached such levels that the emotional whirlwind swirling through our governments made "keeping calm and carrying on" as outdated as rotary phones.
In the early days of COVID, we assumed policies were driven by rational decision-making. How naive! Little did we know that behind the scenes of every lockdown announcement was the frenzied energy of people acting like they were auditioning for a daytime soap opera. Stay-at-home orders? Those were just suggestions to “calm down” and “take a bubble bath” until the feverish panic subsided. Flatten the curve? More like flatten your freedoms in the name of emotional outbursts. It wasn’t long before mask mandates became the ultimate metaphorical muzzles, silencing any dissenting voices under layers of caution and Kleenex.
The real masterstroke? Convincing the world that this—this prolonged emotional meltdown—was all for public safety. In reality, it was public therapy, complete with tears, tantrums, and the occasional shout of “Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?!” Instead of Dr. Fauci, we should’ve had a team of therapists on stage, calmly handing out tissues and saying, “It’s okay, we’ll get through this.” Because clearly, what we were witnessing was less about “following the science” and more about following the drama.
And boy, was there drama. The kind that would make any daytime TV producer jealous. Decisions like shutting down entire economies? That wasn’t about viral transmission—it was a panic-fueled attempt to exert control in the most passive-aggressive way possible. “Oh, you want to go to work? No, no, stay home, just sit there and think about what you’ve done.” They turned the world's biggest economies into a giant timeout.
Social distancing? That was just the emotional equivalent of “I need space right now.” Essential services? More like “I’m too stressed to deal with anything non-essential today.” And don’t get me started on the toilet paper shortage. Nothing says emotionally-charged chaos like hoarding enough TP to last through Armageddon. It was like we collectively lost our minds, stockpiling Charmin like it was currency in the apocalypse—because, clearly, this was no ordinary crisis. It was a soap opera masquerading as a pandemic.
And now, as we look back on this emotional rollercoaster, we can’t help but shake our heads. We weren’t just fighting a virus—we were fending off a tidal wave of hysteria that took us all hostage. If only we’d known at the time that what we really needed wasn’t hand sanitizer, but emotional resilience and a good sense of humor. Maybe then we wouldn’t have been so quick to trade our freedoms for a box of Kleenex.
So next time we’re told to trust the “experts,” let’s make sure they’ve got their emotions in check. Because while viruses come and go, emotional meltdowns seem to last forever.
