Fortune Cookies for the Coronapocalypse

I’ve been ordering mostly Chinese take-out during the lockdown, and the fortunes have been disturbingly accurate.

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The journey of a thousand WebMD searches begins with a single cough.

From where you least expect it, toilet paper will emerge.

Seek within yourself the courage to forgo this morning’s “breakfast margarita.”

You will become better acquainted with your boyfriend, the conspiracy theorist.

Seize every opportunity — unless it requires a Zoom meeting, then fuck it.

All things are difficult when your dad still insists on shaking people’s hands.

Actions speak louder than daily coronavirus briefings.

Dream big, but not bigger than a $1200 one-time stimulus check.

The early bird gets the worm, the night owl catches her husband masturbating.

Patience is a virtue. Amazon will fulfill your late-night anxiety shopping in 3-7 days.

Success is defined by failure. Congrats on cutting your own bangs for the first time since you were 5.

Don’t worry, your favorite brand has a more comprehensive strategy than the government! You can always count on late capitalism.

Open yourself to romance by sexting your exes self-timer nudes from every angle of your studio apartment.

Bang a pan at 7p.m. for all the healthcare workers and grocery store clerks who didn’t know deadly viral exposure was part of the job description.

Home is where the heart attack is.

Friendship is tested during tough times. Say farewell to high school friends who share the Plandemic “documentary” on Facebook.

Embrace the solitude you’ve always dreamed of. You manifested this, you evil hermit crab.

Beware of chaotic sexual energy that could land you in the ICU. No glove, no love. No mask, no ass.

A chance celebrity encounter will help you finally get that Covid test! Fingers crossed you’re still alive.

If you’re reading this from an underground bunker in 2031, you’ll know things can get A LOT worse. Break a leg, sweetie!

Hope the fried rice is good in hell.