We’ve become increasingly distressed at the sight of our neighbors turning against each other in this time of crisis.
On the one hand, some believe that it’s a good idea for everyone to wear masks, since that is a cheap and effective way to reduce the spread of microscopic airborne droplets containing the deadly virus.
On the other hand, some are demonstrating in front of state houses, brandishing assault rifles, claiming that the closing of tattoo parlors is a violation of their constitutional rights, and comparing their governors to Hitler.
To paraphrase our soldier-scientist-poet-prince president, we’re sure there are good people on both sides. We believe this situation is too grave to politicize. And to heal this divide that is tearing apart this great nation, we have a modest, non-partisan proposal that we believe will satisfy both sides.
We propose to designate two distinct areas of this country, and to give each person 30 days to decide which one to live in.
One area we’ll call, for the sake of argument, “Intellica”. Intellica might be a 200-mile-wide strip of territory along each coast, plus Austin, Texas. And Atlanta, since Intellicans actually like the CDC. We’ll give up Florida in exchange.
In Intellica, the lockdown will be in effect until the number of new cases per day approaches zero, with all of the unfortunate economic hardships that such a policy entails.
In the rest of the country, perhaps called “Covidia,” you can go bowling, get a massage, or go get plastered without the deep state interfering with your constitutional rights!! Vaccinations, which cause autism, will be prohibited. But unlimited quantities of sunshine, bleach, and hydrochloroquine will be made available, just in case the ‘scientists’ are right and it turns out that this corona thing is the real deal after all.
Fair enough? Can we shake hands on it?
Travel between Covidia and Intellica will be temporarily banned until the virus has been eliminated or has…died out, in both regions. So let’s get packing!
If we had a president who combined the selflessness and courage of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr.; the charisma of JFK and Michelle Obama; the quiet confidence of Abraham Lincoln and Barak Obama; the political know-how and arm-twisting ability of FDR and LBJ; the medical wisdom and determination of Florence Nightingale and Albert Schweitzer—if we had a president who combined all of these qualities, that person would still be facing a long, difficult and only partly successful effort to keep Americans healthy, hopeful, alive and fed.
And look who we got.
Speaking of our president, on April 3 last he said, “I think wearing a face mask as I greet presidents, prime ministers, dictators, kings, queens, I don’t know. Somehow, I don’t see it for myself.”
Actually, if he wants to hobnob face to maskless face with dictators, I’m surprisingly cool with it.
Maybe Boris “I shook hands with everybody, you will be pleased to know, and I continue to shake hands” Johnson will tell Donald Trump how much fun the ICU was. I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that one.
Reports of “Covid-19 parties,” in which people gather without protection, trying to become infected on purpose, reminds me of something a sociology professor said in a class I took many years ago. Human history records some cases, he informed us, of cultures that abstained from sex. Those cultures, he observed, aren’t around any more.
A more recent quote that stuck in my mind was that of an angry doctor in New York, saying that he would be a hero, but not a martyr. But the awful truth is that we already have too many unwilling martyrs. Dead doctors, nurses, slaughterhouse workers, policemen, and others. They are martyrs to our carelessness, complacency and cheapness. We owe it to them not to take foolish chances—and to expend the money and effort to be better prepared next time.
Tonight I saw news footage of grown human beings ecstatically rushing into a just-reopened hair salon. I confess I don’t quite get it. “It’s a tragedy, what happened to her,” I imagine the friends saying in about two weeks. “Yes, but her hair was fabulous!”
The proprietor’s viewpoint is easier to sympathize with. It’s one thing to tell a business owner, “You can reopen in a month.” Or, “You can reopen when the cases are steadily declining.” Or, “You can reopen when we can test everyone every week, which will happen on date X.” But how can you tell a business owner, “We don’t think it’s safe to reopen, and we don’t know when it will be, and we don’t know when we’ll be able to tell.”
Even if you are at home, and alone, and without any electronic devices or even books and magazines, Nature provides you with at least two safe and healthy ways to amuse yourself. And a nice nap is one of them.
At least I live in Texas. We spend the summer indoors anyway.
When it’s safe again, the first thing I want to do is see my brother and parents again. Then, Taiwan. Then, Italy.
Why are you yelling at the poor “associate”? Just put on the goddamned mask.
Big meatpacking companies that have struggled to keep plants running during the coronavirus crisis said Wednesday that they welcomed President Donald Trump’s executive order requiring them to stay open, but unions, some employees and Democrats questioned whether workers could be kept safe. – NY Times, April 29 2020
THE OVAL OFFICE, DAILY CORONAVIRUS TASK FORCE CONFERENCE
MIKE PENCE, VICE PRESIDENT AND HEAD OF THE WHITE HOUSE CORONA VIRUS TASK FORCE: We’re ready to present today’s report sir.
DONALD JOHN TRUMP, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA: Hold on, Mike, Hannity’s on…ok, it’s a commercial now. Go.
PENCE: PPEs. We still have a shortage of masks, gowns and gloves.
TRUMP: So what am I supposed to do about it?
PENCE: Hospitals are short on ventilators.
TRUMP: Have I ever told anyone they can’t buy a ventilator?
PENCE: A vaccine is still 12-18 months out.
TRUMP: Has anyone tried my sunshine and bleach suggestion?
PENCE: Red-state governors are revoking stay-at-home orders even though their infection rates are holding steady or still climbing.
TRUMP: Up to them.
PENCE: Pork plants are shutting down due to high infection rates at the work sites.
TRUMP: Uh…
PENCE: On the economic front, the money that Congress approved to help small businesses has been sucked dry by big companies…
TRUMP: Wait, what?
PENCE: Yes, and now the lamestream media is acting like it’s a terrible misuse of public…
TRUMP: No, before that…
PENCE: The meat processing plants, sir. They’re shutting down.
TRUMP [SOFTLY]: Good God…[AUTHORITATIVELY] Just how bad is it, Mike?
PENCE: About 5000 workers are infected that we know of, and 20 have…well, they won’t be canning Spam any more, sir.
TRUMP: Sure, but we still have enough workers left over to keep pumping out the bacon, right?
ANTHONY FAUCI: mfffmmfff
TRUMP: Take off the mask, Tony. It makes you look stupid anyway. You see anyone else around here with a mask?
FAUCI: We would probably be better off as a country if we all ate a little less pork. Obesity and heart disease are two major underlying conditions…
TRUMP: Let me ask you something, Tony. You went to medical school and all. What is a bacon cheeseburger without the bacon?
FAUCI: Uh…a cheeseburger?
TRUMP: Exactly. Just a cheeseburger. Mike, what would a McRib be without the McRib?
PENCE: Just sauce on a bun, sir. And maybe some pickles.
TRUMP: Just sauce on a bun. What kind of American eats sauce on a bun? Not the kind who votes for me.
FAUCI: If we reopen the factories now, we’re just going to have more sick and dying workers….
WHITE HOUSE PRESS SECRETARY KAYLEIGH MCENANY: So you want to take jobs away from hardworking families in the heartland?
TRUMP: Oh, that’s good, Kayleigh!
FAUCI: Well if you think about it, it costs so much to treat someone for COVID that even if we pay the meat plants and workers NOT to operate, we’d save money overall…
President Trump’s schedule is so packed amid the coronavirus crisis that he sometimes skips lunch, his aides told The Post — refuting a report that the commander-in-chief spends his days obsessing over TV coverage and eating fries. – New York Post, April 26 2020
BORODINO, RUSSIA, AUGUST 15 1812, GENERAL KUTUZOV’S TENT
PRIVATE: Your pelmeni, sir. You should eat them before they get cold.
KUTUZOV: Pel what?
PRIVATE: Pelmeni. Some of the boys found an old woman in the village who…
KUTUZOV: [wearily looking up from his maps] Where are you from, private?
PRIVATE: Smolensk, sir.
KUTUZOV: Nice town, Smolensk. I was stationed there, many years ago. Pretty girls! Of course, the Frogs have it now. But we’ll get it back soon, I promise.
PRIVATE: Yes, sir.
KUTUZOV: Now look, private. I got the whole goddamned Grande Armée coming at me tomorrow morning. So here’s what you can do for me. Are you listening carefully?
PRIVATE: Yes, General!
KUTUZOV: You can bring me a bottle of good Russian vodka and a kilo of strong Georgian tobacco.
PRIVATE: Yes, General!
KUTUZOV: Then you can stick those fucking pelmeni up your skinny Smolensk ass and get the hell out of my tent!
LONDON DURING THE BLITZ. WINSTON CHURCHILL’S UNDERGROUND BUNKER
MANSERVANT: Your kippers, sir!
CHURCHILL: [wearily, looking up from his maps] Kippers! What’s your name, man?
MANSERVANT: Thadwicke, sir.
CHURCHILL: Now look here, Thadwicke. Somewhere in London there is a decent English housewife whose husband is off fighting in North Africa. She hasn’t seen her children since they were shipped off to live with relatives in the countryside. Last night she lost all of her material possessions when the Hun flattened her building during the air raid, so now she’s staying with a kindly neighbor. Follow me, Thadwicke?
MANSERVANT: I think so, sir.
CHURCHILL: Find that woman, Thadwicke. Find that woman, and give her my kippers.
MANSERVANT: Yes sir.
CHURCHILL: And then if you could rustle me up a nice saddle of lamb and bottle or two of decent port, I do feel a bit peckish.
WASHINGTON, D.C. APRIL 2020, AT THE HEIGHT OF THE COVID-19 GLOBAL EPIDEMIC. THE OVAL OFFICE.
VICE PRESIDENT MIKE PENCE: I got your Chick-Fil-A, sir.
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA DONALD JOHN TRUMP: Christ, Pence, can’t you wait until I’m done watching my interview with Hannity?
PENCE: Sorry, sir.
TRUMP: Just stick it over there or whatever. You didn’t breathe on it or anything, did you?
My first thought is resentment at Mother Nature for pulling this on my parents. They made it through the Great Depression, the war, the Cold War, 9/11, the Great Recession, and 3+ ugly Trump years, not to mention various personal trials and tribulations. My mother put her academic career on hold to raise two kids. And at this point in their lives they have to deal with this?
Made-from-scratch mac & cheese is great! Until it’s not.
Thank God(dess) they decided a few years ago that butter and eggs, in moderation, were okay again. Cause I don’t think I could make it through this on egg whites and Country Spread.
I know you’re mad as hell at the President. So am I. It gives us emotional relief to complain to each other about his latest idiocies. But ridiculing Commander Bonespur (and there I go again) is sort of beside the point. It changes nothing, including minds. Like the virus, he is for now a fact of life. We need to help each other through this thing now. And then remember in November.
A natural disaster on a national scale should be a president’s political windfall. It gives him the chance to step up and look magisterial, decisive and compassionate, for managing a horrible problem that he had nothing to do with causing. This is Trump’s 9/11, his Katrina, his Great Recession. It could have sealed his re-election. But this president is just completely out of his depth, and evidently devoid of empathy.
I have been having some sinful thoughts though, lately. Like wondering how many rifle-totin’ MAGA-cap-wearin’ facemask-not-wearin’ Limbaugh-listenin’ morons will get sick after showing up for a ‘Liberate America’ rally.
If it’s my time, it’s my time. But please at least let me see Biden get sworn in!
As a rule I’m too lazy and complacent to wave a sign. But if Trump tries to delay the election, I will join you on the streets.
I understand wanting to reopen your nail salon so that you can feed your family. I don’t understand wanting to visit a nail salon right now. Or a bowling alley or a tattoo parlor. Are you crazy?
Thank goodness for ebooks.And T.V.
I don’t miss basketball or baseball. Won’t miss football. Even less so now after watching the Aaron Hernandez documentary on Netflix. How many thousands or millions of brain concussions in total will our kids be spared because of this year’s missed spring training?
This crisis has fallen very lightly (so far) on me personally. I cannot thank healthcare workers and food industry workers enough. I feel like I’m exploiting the poor folks who work at the grocery store or the drive-thru.
I’m not religious but that doesn’t stop me from hoping that Alex Jones will fry in hell.
I’ve been watching the original Twilight Zone series lately. Several episodes construct allegories out of Cold War anxieties that seem perfectly apt today. The fear of reason. Communities that disintegrate as individuals look for any way out or try to protect themselves at all costs. The most important thing now is to love one’s neighbor. Even Alex Jones, damn his evil soul.
It’s heartening to see how Mother Nature (the nice part, like wild animals and blue skies, not the virus part) responds when we give her a break. Maybe we should figure out how to keep it up.
Hi, this is Rick, the guy who lives down the hall? Yeah, I was just kinda wondering, if you’re not too busy tonight, wouldja like to watch me eat dinner on Zoom?
Sorry mom, I can’t visit you until Coral Gables flattens the curve.
Stay where you are. We’ll put the cheeseburger in your trunk.
I just need to stop by the store for some wipes, ten pounds of dried pinto beans and two cases of Pinot Grigio.
Thank goodness the liquor store delivers.
If I could interrupt just a sec, let me get out my measuring tape. Cause that doesn’t look like six feet to me…
But on the bright side, have you seen the gas prices lately?
Cards on the table, this grim Easter weekend: we’re atheists here in the Garden. We contend (we almost wrote ‘believe’) that all religions, regardless of any elaborate theology, or ethical code, however well-reasoned or admirable, are ultimately based on a myth. To be a person of faith, you have to have…faith in that myth, a faith which is inherently immune to any scientific analysis.
Now science is not an alternative to religion; it’s something else entirely. It’s simply a tool—a critical tool, the only tool we have—for understanding causation in the natural world, and for predicting its future behavior. And pursuing scientific analysis of the Covid virus, and changing our behavior accordingly, is the only way we have of limiting its deadly effects.
That is why it is galling for us to read about evangelical “pastors” like Rodney Howard-Browne calling their flock to worship today in person, and their red-state political allies, like Florida governor Ron DeSantis, who claim in-church worship is an “essential service.” Both of these parties are motivated by fear. The red-state governors are afraid of losing the religious-reactionary vote. The preachers are afraid for their pocketbooks. If you’ve built a career by claiming to have a direct landline to God, and the ability use His awesome powers for healing earthly ailments, and then admit that you can’t protect your donors from catching a little old virus, then what good are you?
Now, I am evidently no theologian, but I am not aware that one’s physical proximity to other worshipers, or to some real-world Elmer Gantry, is a precondition for worship, or prayer, or faith, or good works. But don’t take it from me. Take it from the Vatican, which is live-streaming its Easter services. And these guys have been closely analyzing and making pronouncements on the dos and don’ts of salvation for over 2000 years.
And although I am not a believer, I would advise politicians and preachers who will let us die for the sake of votes and money to dress for warm weather in the afterlife. One can never be sure.
abandanned–how one feels when one’s government urges you to wear surgical masks in order to stay alive, and helpfully suggests that you can make your own out of old bandannas
allergy—the reason I’m coughing and sneezing, I swear to God
auld-lang-ziety—the fear that things will never go back to the way they used to be
bipartisan—describes a problem so terrifying that even politicians try to do something about it
essential service—if my neighborhood is typical, lawn care by underpaid Hispanic day laborers who can’t afford to stay home
heroes—doctors, nurses, EMTs, and the lady who delivers power bowls to your front door
hunker games—games and activities that seemed stupid and boring until late March 2020
Italy—the United States, two or three weeks from now
Kushnertise—the level of medical expertise one expects from one’s son in law. Not the one who went to Harvard Med, but the plumber.
price gouging–commercial activity engaged in by future residents of the warmest locations in hell
Spring Break—a not such a hot idea
strategic resources—PPE’s and pappardelle
“that woman”—the democratically elected governor of a state of about 10 million people who is doing everything she can to keep them alive and well
ventilator—something that vents, but since we don’t have them you’ll have to wait til later
White House depress conference—”daily conference” we find rather depressing
Is this the end of irony—and of its kissing cousin, satire?
That was the question people asked in the aftermath of 9/11. It seemed to be something too horrific, too serious to make fun of. It would have been too disrespectful of the attack’s victims, and of its heroic responders, to joke about it.
But of course irony didn’t stay down for long. An early piece of evidence that I remember was a New Yorker cartoon that appeared sometime that fall, which showed a barfly telling the man next to him, “If I don’t have that third martini, the terrorists win.”
If there were any lingering moral reservations about parodying our response to “the terrorist threat,” they vanished for me during the “shock and awe” of Desert Storm, as we discovered that the frightening spectre of WMD’s, and of Saddam Hussein’s support for Al-Qaeda, were simply lies concocted by the Bush administration. The whole ‘yellow cake’ episode seemed custom-made for parody.
But this crisis is different. For one thing, we’re still in the middle—if not the beginning—of this mess. A week ago I could laugh at the video of a man watching a video of a smoking barbecue grill, sipping a drink and waving away the ‘smoke’ with a fan. But today it’s not so cute, as I read the grim numbers rising faster every day, and news starts to trickle in of friends of friends falling victim. Not to mention footage of truckloads of coffins lined up outside hospitals in northern Italy.
And yet…would that be funny to the doctors and nurses having to decide who gets a ventilator and who doesn’t—doctors and nurses who moreover are risking their own lives? Would it be funny to the family of someone who died because there were no ventilators available? Somehow skewering Trump—and the man deserves to be skewered on so many levels—just seems too easy, especially when the skewering is by those of us with the luxury of being able to just “hunker down.” Serious journalistic exposure of this inept president’s failures is now more important than ever. But exploiting his clumsy and often mean-spirited missteps—and those of his coterie—just for amusement suddenly feels kind of sacrilegious to me.
And skewering our clumsy, insecure, mean-spirited president has been a mainstay of this blog, as recently as 5 days ago. But it’s just no fun anymore. So now what? What is the right thing to do? Do we go satire-silent? (I avoid the question: does anyone care?) I don’t have the answer. But I need a laugh now more than ever. Isn’t that ironic?
President Trump said on Tuesday that he wanted to reopen the country for business by this coming Easter Sunday, despite widespread warnings from public health experts that the worst effects of the coronavirus were still weeks away and that lifting the restrictions now in place would result in unnecessary deaths. – New York Times, March 24 2020
WASHINGTON, APRIL 20 2020
The White House announced this morning that as of 12:01 A.M. today the Coronavirus has been eradicated.
Ecstatic Americans greeted the news by emerging from their homes and indulging in joyful orgies of face-touching, handshaking, church-packing, massive consumption of non-essential goods and services, and unapologetic elbowless coughing in crowded public spaces.
“I’m an American,” declared Dwayne of Ohio. “You can’t tell me how and where I can cough.”
Though no longer infected, hundreds of thousands of patients suffering from its lingering effects continue to recover in Trump hotels and resorts, generously leased to the government at market rates. “We’ll care for them as long as necessary,” vowed the president, “if not longer.”
The scientific community was stunned to discover that the president’s March prediction/suggestion that the nation would safely “pack the churches” on Easter Sunday came true. Dr. Anthony Fauci, on a temporary leave of absence, could not be reached at the vacation home he shares with journalist Jonathan Karl and former presidential candidate Joseph Biden in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
President Trump was pressed to reveal how he knew the virus would spontaneously disappear on Easter Sunday morning.
“It’s very complicated,” he explained, “very…sciency. But you’ll know everything very soon. I’m writing a paper about it for the New England Journal of Medicine. If you don’t know, that’s a very classy, very top magazine for doctors. It doesn’t even have ads. It’ll be out as soon as the peer review crap gets taken care of. Along with my tax returns. [cough] Excuse me, there’s my allergy again.”
But a draft of the president’s paper, leaked to the Garden, tells the story. The virus was caused by a “perfect storm,” Trump writes, “of Chinese mischief, liberal media hype, and grasping blue-state governors.” But why did it abruptly disappear? The virus never reckoned on the president’s unmatched powers of magical thinking. “What a great thing it would be, I thought, if we all woke up on Easter morning and everything was normal. I thought that, really hard, and now it’s true. It’s so, so simple.” concluded the president’s monograph.
Media pundits across the political spectrum, from Fox News to the National Review, all agreed that the sudden national wellness all but assured the president another term, if not two or three. “This’ll shut up the president’s critics,” opined Sean Hannity. “Though if not, there are other ways.”
First of all, a big virtual hug (the only kind CDC guidelines allow) to all our loyal readers out there. We love you and hope you are all safe and sound. And a heartfelt shout out to the farmworkers, grocery clerks, truck drivers, restaurant workers, and others who are (let’s be honest) out there risking their health for a few pennies, to keep life bearable for the rest of us.
Watching the daily clown-show (and it’s a scary clown, at that) known as the “White House Press Briefing,” it’s becoming more evident to me that we, the American people, are on our own. As awful as things are in New York State, New Yorkers at least have the comfort of seeing a guy in charge who is smart and responsible. But here in Texas, rather than a governor who is concerned only with keeping his people alive and healthy, we have someone whose reaction is, “how can we use this catastrophe to make life even harder than it already is for a woman who decides to terminate her pregnancy?” And as for the guy at the top…well, we’re in great shape if all we need is wishful thinking, a cheery sales pitch, and other people to blame. I’m not counting on it.
That leaves the primary task of keeping ourselves safe to…ourselves. And an interesting mental exercise I’ve been playing with lately consists of listing all the things I need or want to do besides staying at home…and asking myself…
IS IT TO DIE FOR? (Allowed responses: YES, NO, or IT’S COMPLICATED)
DISCLAIMER: THESE ARE NOT RECOMMENDATIONS…you’ll have to decide for yourself what’s ‘worth it’!
TOILET PAPER: YES. Though I don’t need to have closetfuls of it. And if it comes to it…we still have enough old copies of the Austin-American Statesman to do us for a while. (Note to self: New condition for the new world—‘Inky Bum’)
GOING TO THE GROCERY STORE: YES. A guy’s gotta eat. And the delivery services in my neighborhood are backed up. But let’s make a list first, keep it quick, and get a little extra so we don’t have to go so often. That’s a little extra, folks. Leave some queso and popcorn for the next guy.
GETTING TAKEOUT FOR LUNCH EVEN THOUGH THERE ARE STILL LEFTOVERS IN THE FREEZER: YES, if the place is doing a reasonable job of keeping customers and workers separate from themselves and each other. It’s a risk but one I’m willing to take a couple of times a week.
ROCKY ROAD ICE CREAM AND PLANTERS’ CHEESE BALLS: IT’S COMPLICATED. Hard to defend as justifying a separate trip to the store, or even extending the trip for ‘basics’ by a few minutes (and a few additional ‘close encounters’) for things that not only don’t improve one’s health or safety but are actually bad for you. But if this business goes on for months…we gotta have something to look forward to!
PICKING UP A FEW THINGS AT THE SUPERMARKET FOR THE ELDERLY NEIGHBOR WHO LIVES NEXT DOOR. YES. No contest. Do we really need to say it?
GETTING THE OIL CHANGED AND TIRES ROTATED: NO. Obviously! It can wait. Yet for some reason our neighborhood quickie lube is still packed with cars. Are you crazy, people? Or just stupid? Don’t know yet about state inspections though….
FILLING UP THE CAR: YES. If the apocalypse does come, I want to be fueled up and ready to go. Just haven’t figured out where. Krum? Pflugerville? Where is someplace no one else would want to be? Maybe Dalworthington Gardens. (Get it? It’s in between Dallas, Ft. Worth, and Arlington, and it’s like a garden! But have you ever driven through it? I have. Enough said. I digress.*) More importantly, it seems like the risk involved in getting gas is low. Plus…it’s below a buck-eighty now…who can resist?
GETTING A HAIRCUT: NO. Hell no. I’ll take shaggy over dead.
WINE AND BEER: IT’S COMPLICATED. I’m not a big drinker, but there’s psychological comfort in have a few bottles under the sink. And psychological comfort counts.
GETTING MY TEETH CLEANED: NO. I brush. I floss. It can wait. Academic at this point anyway.
HAVING A BEER IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD BAR: NO. It’s academic anyway. There are no neighborhood bars in my part of Austin, unless you count ‘lounge areas’ within restaurants, with enormous TV screens and loud music, which I don’t. No bars the way I remember them from my misspent youth in Hyde Park: places where people went to share a pitcher and talk with friends, or to just sit at the bar with a pile of crumpled bills for the bartender to deduct from each time your beer glass was wordlessly refilled. Ah those were the days. But even if there were such a place nearby (which would be fantastic), it would be shut down after tonight, according to the shelter-in-place order. And even if there weren’t such an order…not now.
VISIT TO THE PUBLIC LIBRARY OR BOOKSTORE: IT’S COMPLICATED. I might go once, and stock the hell up. Life on pure Netflix and YouTube and etc. is really just not worth living. But e-Books are really good enough for now. I’m not a paper-book sentimentalist—It’s the message that counts, not the medium. Anyway it’s academic…the libraries at least are shut down.
GOING FOR A WALK: IT’S COMPLICATED. In the ‘hood, yes. The prettiest places—with narrow trails—unfortunately…no.
GIVING BLOOD: IT’S COMPLICATED. I believe it’s perfectly safe. I’m also a coward who hates needles. Just give me some time.
BUYING A GUN: NO. No way! Not my thing. And so far as I have been able to determine, shooting the virus doesn’t work. But the Garden is in the middle of a part of the country where folks will swamp the gun store at the slightest provocation. If an African-American is elected president, if there is a whisper of a rumor of background checks, if ‘bump stocks’ might be banned, if the “gun show loophole” might be closed, if there is a thunderstorm in the forecast, if a coyote eats someone’s cat, there is a mad rush to the weekend gun show to buy a gun. Or more typically, another gun. We almost hope** to be reading someday soon about someone who got infected because they went to a gun show to protect themselves against…sick neighbors.
ACQUIRING A SPRING WARDROBE: NO. “Old T-shirt” is the new black.
VOTING: IT’S COMPLICATED. If my House district (Mike McCaul) has a fighting chance of turning blue in November, then…yes, definitely. You’re welcome, Millennial
*no offense intended to the fine people of Dalworthington Gardens, Texas
The Garden of Eaton 