Darth Vader wears the mask so you can't see his otherwise sheepishly, apologetic face as he rasps all over the control panel. It's a tad challenging to conquer vast galaxies when you have seemingly no control over a single nostril, or your diaphram for that matter.
This virus has me feeling mundane and filled with the desire to write sonorous poetry. I'm not even sure what that means, but it somehow sounds nasally accurate. Verse upon verse of misery that engulfs the world (hmmmm, clearly the testosterone is winning over the estrogen). With Murphpy like sureness, while I now have the perfect pitch for unsettling calls punctuated with heavy breathing, I don't have the inclination to inflict it upon anyone. What a tragedy.
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