I'll restate. Many, people did not, or would not, wear one properly. Their nose poked out, or it hung around their necks unless the boss was looking. They'd touch contaminated surfaces and touch their face.

I am relating what I see, what I know. You are free to ignore me.

Throwing out what I see, what I know.

Sorry - two rifle squads and one mortar section during the war.

Maybe that loud-ass screeching was the bird, decades later, yelling for Agnes or George or whoever to COME GET HIM RIGHT NOW PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I MISS YOU.

I imagine way back in the 1940s - he was bought as a young bird by a loving, attentive owner. There was bonding. He was as content as nature would allow. They passed on, he was passed on, to people who however kind they were were not his owner and life became a sort of hell for that bird.

I could hear him a block away, with the windows closed. Mercifully, he passed after a year or so, of old age.

Bit everyone, except me, because I wouldn't let him get close enough. Ate the thermostat - his cage was pushed too close to the wall for a few days. Mastered the art of escaping from his first cage. Screeched. I've owned roosters .. he was louder than a roster. Indoors.

Over in the White House Joe is shaking his head sadly. 'Bob knows better. Use your kid at a cut-out, like I do.'

They'll kick him out of the Senate for the crime of 'doing crimes dumb'.