The Human Condition

I can't decide if I am a good person who has done bad things or a bad person who has done good things. This might seem like splitting hairs, but the answer could mean where I end up for eternity. Even though I scoff at organized religion I still believe in The Big Guy, which means I believe in Heaven and Hell or some sort of eternal repository. Several of the bad things I've done are too bad to write about here, and listing the good things would come off as obnoxiously Clintonian (especially Hillary).

Let it suffice that, like most people, there's good and bad inside me. I've spent most of my adult life trying to kill off the bad one, but since the only methods I've heard of would also eliminate the good one, resulting in all of me being dead, I have not gone forward with any plan. Instead, each night I go to bed promising that tomorrow the good me will be in charge. I will have oatmeal for breakfast and go for a three-mile walk. But then I wake up and read the news and the bad me makes waffles and opens Facebook and it's all downhill from there.

Things were so much easier when I was just raising my son. I always knew what was best for him and did it, despite his begging. He turned out great, although oddly enough he also has a Good One and a Bad One inside. That seems common among our species, despite what you may think of Donald Trump or what I firmly believe about Rachel Maddow, a.k.a. the Devil Incarnate.

Were Dinosaurs This Bad?

On some days, and this is starting to look like one of them, I am totally on board with the human race dying out. This pandemic, with no end in sight, just might do it, and if you ask me, it's time.

What's got me sure of it is seeing a tweet (God I hate that word and the whole Twitter thing) from the wife of actor Alec Baldwin which includes a video of herself at the doctor's office having  a sonogram of the latest occupant of her uterus. (This is number six, so we know she's a breeder.) There she is lying on the examining table while we, total strangers, get to hear the baby's heartbeat, as if her baby is the first baby to ever have a heartbeat, and as if all of us weren't babies once with our own damn heartbeats. And since we still all have heartbeats, what is the big fucking deal about this particular baby? Has the woman no sense of decorum or pride or even a shred of dignity? (Her name is Hilaria which might tell you something.)

Next thing you know someone will post a picture of their interesting bowel movement. I almost did once when it came out looking exactly like a question mark, little dot and all, but my husband put his foot down. (Not on it in the toilet, but just figuratively speaking.)

I wonder: Were the dinosaurs this bad?

Essential Workers Keep Things Moving

Death is very popular these days; with some of the best people are doing it. Just a day ago an artist friend of mine, younger than me by a dozen years, died not of Covid-19 but of Parkinson's. Last week the mother of my son's best friend since high school, a strong woman in her sixties with whom I had weathered the storms of their adolescence over many glasses of wine, finally succumbed to a lifelong chronic illness.

Added to the daily death tallies from the coronavirus, my mood has been dark to say the least. So I was less than sympathetic when my sister, age 79, who lives in a nursing home in New York that has had a few Covid-19 deaths already, bemoaned the death of her roommate.
The woman was 108, so really, how sorry could I be? Besides, my sister had always complained that she talked incessantly and it was hard to get a moment's peace.

"But you said her constant talking was so annoying."

"Yes," she said, "but she was smart and funny."

"I thought you said she was crazy."

"She was, but you can be crazy and smart and funny."

I wondered, was it from Covid-19? My sister replied, "Not sure. She just stopped talking, so I asked a nurse to check on her and, sure enough, she was dead."

Dumb With a Capital D.

Many people are this dumb, regardless of who is in the White House.

Last week President Trump, a lifelong real estate mogul with not a lick of medical training who gained the office by defeating a defective opponent hated by millions of voters, commented after his medical experts mentioned on TV that disinfectants kill the novel coronavirus on surfaces and in the air: "I see the disinfectant that knocks it out in a minute, one minute. Is there a way we could do something like that by injection inside, or almost a cleaning?"

Naturally the self-righteous, all-seeing, all-knowing Democrats and the press (same thing) seized on his statement and turned it into a directive that people should drink bleach. They insisted that this was another example of how bad a president he is, how Trumpies are stupid enough to drink bleach, etc. etc. Fake news stories popped up claiming that dozens of people were hospitalized for drinking bleach. (Nobody had.)

I say if anyone thought Trump was suggesting that people should drink bleach, they are even dumber than the people who would actually drink bleach. In addition, if anyone drinks bleach and dies because of Trump's suggestion directed to the scientists working on creating a vaccine, we as a species are better off. It all makes me wonder how many Democrats took the Tide Pod Challenge.

What's Trump Got to Do With It?

The novel disease that's been wreaking havoc all over the globe has something to do with bats, or perhaps pangolins, it's been said. Right from the start, many of our respected leaders assured us it was nothing to worry about. These included:

In late January, Dr. (Saint) Anthony Fauci said the virus in China posed "a very, very low risk to the United States." 

On February 24, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, hoping to stem a drop in tourism after reports of the emerging virus, linked arms with throngs of celebrants at a San Francisco parade and stated on camera that it was "very safe to be in Chinatown."  

On March 1, after the first coronavirus case appeared in New York State, Governor Andrew Cuomo tweeted that there was "no cause for undue anxiety." 

On March 11, New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio urged residents during a press conference to go about their "business as usual." 

Meanwhile, on January 31 (effective February 2),  President Trump outlawed travel between China and the US. So tell me again, because I'm so confused: Who's got blood on their hands?

The Low Spark of High-Heeled Nancy

There are so many things wrong about Nancy Pelosi, I could write a book. Or at the very least, a blog. In fact I might change the name of this blog to "Trashing Nancy Pelosi." I bet I would get more readers.

Today's subject is the fact that Nancy, at 80 years of age, certainly old enough to know better and so old that nobody is looking or caring, still wears high heels. That is just plain dumb.The purpose of high heels is to give the visual impression of a longer leg, ultimately making a woman look sexier and thus attracts a mate. Since Nancy is already married, and also the Speaker of the House and third in line to the presidency, why would that be a goal of hers? Added to her penchant for Botox and facelifts, it's clear she has not come to terms with aging and her inevitable death.

Besides, you'd think after so many years of experience she would have noticed that high heels are bad for you. According to Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine (DO) Sajid A. Surve,“High heels put the foot at an angle and pull muscles and joints out of alignment, so the effects aren’t limited to the feet. It’s not unusual for people who spend lots of time in high heels to have low back, neck and shoulder pain because the shoes disrupt the natural form of the body.”

Maybe that's why she's always grimacing.

Nancy in Wonderland

I have long suspected that our elected leaders are a bunch of oversized egos whose delusions of grandeur led them to seek public office. All too often they seem out of touch with reality, like Connecticut's Senator Richard Blumenthal who has frequently cited his tour of duty in Vietnam despite his never being there. (I could go on, but you already know.) Another perfect example is Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, the 80-year-old glamour girl who owns a vineyard and lives in a mansion with her super-rich husband. She may be the Champion of the Poor, but she's not too good at hiding her riches.

Last week Nancy did a TV interview from her San Francisco home. All we could see in the close-in shot was Nancy's stretched-tight face, sparkly earrings and bright white dentures. Behind her was a stainless steel refrigerator. What an odd spot to choose for an interview, I thought, until I realized that every other part of the house was probably so palatial it would make viewers angry, not to mention nauseous.

Nearing the end of the interview, Nancy let us in on her little secret: What gets her through the horror of the pandemic is chocolate and ice cream. "I don't know what I would do without it," she gushed, turning around to open the freezer and display its contents. Inside were a couple dozen quarts of ice cream in an array of colorful tubs, all sporting the name jeni's. Turns out jeni's costs $12 per pint.

Today I spoke with a friend who has been out of work for the last six weeks due to the nationwide shutdown of most businesses. She told me she's down to her last hundred bucks until her disability check from the government arrives. I told her things weren't so bad: after all, she could still afford eight pints of jeni's.

Covid's Coming for You, So Vote Democratic

Yesterday in Detroit, a five-year-old girl died of meningitis. This is certainly sad and painful for her parents and everyone who knew her. But how does it help the situation to write the sensational headline that appeared on the trashy Huffington Post: "5-year-old Dies of Virus; Parents Warn It's Coming to Get You," when she didn't and it isn't?

Democrat scare tactics are everywhere. Their goal is obvious: To raise the level of fear among all Americans while blaming Trump as much as possible so they can win the election in November. No matter that they still don't have a viable candidate; I guess they're hoping creaky old Joe Biden will die before then and they can nominate someone a few decades younger with more marbles, if they can find such a candidate.

Experts are clueless.

And so the experts inflate the deaths, a fact plainly admitted by head cheerleader Dr. Deborah Birx (wife of a former Clinton advance man) when she said that all deaths that happen during this period  are being classified as Covid deaths. (Let's get those numbers up, people!)

So if you suffer a fatal car accident near a hospital filled with Covid patients, that's a Covid death. How about if you succumb to a heart attack while reading a news story about the virus? Covid death. What if a rabid dog bites you in a city where there are lots of Covid patients and you aren't treated because the hospitals are busy tending to virus patients? Covid death. What if some nut goes on a killing spree in any American city and mortally wounds 24 people? All Covid deaths. 

Try not to panic, but obviously Covid really is coming for you. Don't slip in the shower, fall down a stairway, upset a poisonous snake or annoy the neighbor's German shepherd dog, or you could end up in a refrigerator truck somewhere in the Bronx.

Fake News, Real News, What's the Difference?

You don't have to read the paper or turn on your TV to know what's going on in the world. It's the same as yesterday, except more people are dead. If you listen to the Democrats it's still all Trump's fault, as if he created the virus in his basement at Mar-a-Lago. The Republicans still say it's China's fault, although not all agree it was intentional.

Like a flock of birds that all take off at exactly the same moment, everyone with an audience is suddenly focusing on when we can "reopen" the economy. They each have their own plan that is identical to everyone else's plan. All of them end with the prediction that once people return to living in the world, the virus will come roaring back and kill more people. Now there's a plan I can't get behind!
So instead of reading or watching the news, I suggest just doing this:

Clean kitchen cupboards

Wash floors

Organize the garage

Pet the kitty, walk the dog, clean the birdcage

Wash the inside of your refrigerator

Figure out how to leave a comment on this blog
Color your hair

Cut your hair

Shave your head (for men, genderqueers and just plain weirdos)

Read fairy tales
Vacuum all carpets

Hand-wash small rugs with a sponge

Learn how to make a mojito
Watch old Robin Williams movies
Try on all your clothes 

Rake leaves

Brush and floss your teeth 

Listen to music

Make your own potato chips
Iron your sheets
Water all your plants; repot as necessary

Polish the silverware
Go for a walk, run or bike ride

Cut up magazines and make a collage

Pay bills
Take up painting, either walls or canvas

Read "The Plague" by Albert Camus

Read "Moby Dick"by Herman Melville

Open those boxes in the basement

Bake Snickerdoodles; you have all the ingredients

Do a jigsaw puzzle 

Play Risk
Read the dictionary

Start a blog

And of course, wash your hands

Land of the Free to Use Drugs

In 2017, drug abuse including opioids killed 70,000 Americans. In 2018 there were 67,000 deaths from the same cause. (More recent tallies are not yet available.) But oddly enough, children still went to school every day, colleges and universities did not close, major sporting events were not cancelled, restaurants were not shuttered, Broadway shows opened to thrilled tourists, retail sales continued, the stock market did not plummet, unemployment remained low and, more to the point, I could get my damn teeth cleaned and my next set of Invisaligns on time, two things I sorely need. Even odder, the liberal media did not blame Trump for it, so busy were they with concocting the Russian collusion thing.

So, since nothing was done to change the situation, we, the public, concluded that those who perished were just a bunch of dead drug addicts and life went on. And as far as I can tell, there has been no effort on the part of the government or the states or Dr. Anthony Fauci or that Surgeon General-In-A-Uniform to come up with a solution, vaccine, treatment, deterrent, or anything at all to stop the scourge of drug abuse that continues to this day.

Pity those poor Michiganders; no gardens this year!

Not so with Covid-19. No, not at all. With Covid-19 you can't do nuthin'. And in Michigan, you can do even less than nuthin' (see photo). This theft of our basic human rights was carried out by a 48-year-old woman who somehow was elected to be the Governor of that state. Like they do with heinous criminals on the news, I won't glorify her by using her name, but if I ever met her in person, I'd give her a piece of my mind, believe me.

Pity the Poor Pangolin

 No thanks, I already ate.

First it was bats at a wet market in Wuhan. Then it was discovered, or uncovered, that actually there were no bats for sale at that wet market. But there were pangolins. You know, pangolins -- that thing you never heard of once before in your entire life. Apparently they are quite tasty despite being hideously ugly and looking somewhat like anteaters (see photo). Anyway, the loony left has a brand new reason the pandemic is Trump's fault: He (and Obama before him) "failed to protect the pangolins by providing legal protections to pangolins due to America’s faltering role in international wildlife conservation efforts."

The article in The Guardian, a British daily newspaper with an online presence, continues: "Though no pangolins live in the US, an endangered species designation could make additional funding available to preserve the species, bolster efforts to crack down on illegal trade and send a powerful signal to the international community that the animals ought to be protected."

Well I say if pangolins are going to go around spreading horrible diseases in retaliation for not being protected, then protect them at all costs! Hey, forget the starving children in Africa and Haiti and the homeless right here in America --  they don't kill anyone. Instead let's throw a ton of money at making sure pangolins are fed and happy and have lots of space to run around and procreate. 

As for me personally, I will never eat Chinese food again, and that's a huge statement for a Jew to make, believe me. (There goes Christmas.) 

Eating for the Cure

One big worry I have relating to the current worldwide pandemic is just how fat the average American will be when it ends. Besides the fact that gyms are closed and a general malaise has fallen over the populous, certainly a reasonable response to the daily death totals and stay-at-home orders, I can't help but think that binge-eating while splayed on a sofa in front of a screen has become a common scenario in most households. And if my brother-in-law's take-out pizza business, which last Saturday saw its best one-day sales since opening ten months ago, is any indication, they're not binge-eating kale and broccoli.

I personally have participated in such behavior since the onset of Covid-19. Historically vigilant in such matters -- I've been on a diet since I was 12 -- I rarely indulge in anything that tastes good. Combined with my twice-weekly session with a personal CrossFit trainer and frequent walks, I have managed to cling to the same body, basically, for most of my adult life. But now, I figure, why bother? If the world is going to end, and if not the world then surely my own species, why not go out with a bang? And by "bang" I mean gobs of ice cream, boxes of cookies, bags of jelly beans (it is Easter season after all) and the occasional four-cheese-extra-mozzarella pizza.

Fat, Samoan and virus-free!

The U.S. territory of American Samoa, the world's fattest place -- 75% of its 55,000 citizens  are considered obese -- thus far has no confirmed cases of the coronavirus. Draw your own conclusions, but in the mean time, pass me the Mallomars; who knows, maybe body fat is the vaccine!

All the News That's Fit to Slant

I did not vote for Donald Trump in 2016. In fact, I can still remember howling with laughter when he declared his candidacy, thinking he was a total joke suffering from delusions of grandeur. Things have changed, and I now consider all his attackers to be the jokes, and certainly suffering from delusions of grandeur.

The thing is, reporters don't actually do anything themselves. (Having been one myself for many years, I speak from personal experience.) They don't create any usable products or perform any usable services.  Instead what they do is annoy people by calling them on the phone or chasing them down in public to badger them about what they have been doing. Then they write it up as best they can remember and turn in their impressions to an editor who then edits the hell out of it, forever eradicating the thoughts, ideas and any shreds of intelligence the reporter may have included. The final piece is altered to fit the editor's or publisher's desires. The reporter is merely an errand boy or girl who brings the quotes sprinkled throughout (unless there are no quotes but instead a series of references to "reliable sources").

Gloria and her hair helmet.

On TV, it's all about the look, with reporters strutting their stuff like Hollywood stars on the Red Carpet. Anderson Cooper, who probably has perfect vision, dons his trendy glasses, then omits them when his outfit commands it. Average-looking women like CNN's Gloria Borger and Dana Bash spend hours every day having their makeup professionally applied and their hair professionally styled so they can appear glamorous on TV, just to do one thing and one thing only: Trash the President of the United States as they have been instructed by their bosses.

Joy and her African braids.

Meanwhile, over at MSNBC, Joy Reid, she of the formerly very straight, very short hair, has taken to sticking on a set of dreadlocks to make sure you understand she is an African-American before she trashes the President. As for Brian Williams, the former respected anchor at ABC News who disgraced himself with a pack of lies years ago during Hurricane Katrina but got a new job anyway, oh please.

So now, after almost four years of this non-stop nonsense, I will be voting for Donald Trump in November, as he is just about the only person I ever see on the news who is simply himself (with his real hair, as ridiculous as it is). And if you ask me, he's done a damn good job with this whole pandemic thing, despite the constant, ceaseless, never-ending bitching and moaning of those leeches who get paid a ridiculous annual salary (Anderson Cooper $11 million, Joy Reid $1.5 million, Brian Williams $10 million) to magnify Trump's every misstep and hide all his good deeds. 

Seize Your Pandemic!

Certainly by now we all realize this is not going away anytime soon, so it's best to stop the binge eating, binge drinking, binge gaming and binge Netflixing and grab ourselves by the collar and shake some sense into ourselves. Possibly a slap in the face is called for as well, either by our own washed hand or that of a willing friend or family member. The time has come to seize the pandemic, for this too shall pass and what will you have to show for it -- an extra fifteen pounds and an alcohol problem?

This is not an original thought but one plagiarized from my son, who worried that he was not seizing his pandemic but instead squandering it on senseless activities when he could be creating a stockpile of his handmade products he will need once his business starts up again. I related to his observation immediately, thinking of all the wasted hours I could have used to make great art, or at the very least clean my house from top to bottom, instead of alternating between playing Words With Friends  and sobbing.

While Covid-19 is robbing some people of their lives and others the ability to do anything but struggle for their next breath, we the uninfected have been given the gift of time. Time to fill with activities that surpass our usual running around with friends, going out to dinner and a show, traveling to foreign countries and rock-climbing aboard cruise ships. Instead we can finally read "Moby Dick" or learn a foreign language or take up knitting or paint the bedroom or master the art of meditation or clean the basement or work out and get stronger than we were before. Find your inner power and seize your pandemic, while you still can.

What Virus?

Today I learned an important lesson worth sharing, although I suspect that most people already know it and I'm just a slow learner. The lesson is this: Happiness comes when you're dealing with a big problem and then you get another one, so the first one gets put on the back burner while the second one makes you miserable. Then the second one gets solved and you only have that first one that was bothering you so much, but you're so grateful the second one is gone and just worrying about the first one is a huge relief.

The coronavirus has filled my head almost every waking second since it first appeared. It has robbed me of a two-week trip to Israel with dear friends that had been planned for eight months, kept me apart from my son who lives just 20 minutes away and denied me the comfort of socializing with friends. So when yesterday's innocent little spring snowstorm turned vicious and knocked out our power, I totally lost it. No hot shower, no morning coffee, food spoiling in the fridge, cell phone power dangerously low and of course a freezing cold house made me forget about the deadly disease possibly lurking on all our hard surfaces.

Waking up this morning was bleak. My husband and I managed to eke out one cup of coffee each from yesterday's ground remains. (We use fresh beans and an electric grinder.). The day wore on and the power company's website all but promised the power would remain out for at least a day or more as all of Maine had been hit hard. We discovered a tree down in our yard and six inches of snow blanketing the vegetable garden we started last weekend. Basically, boo-fucking-hoo.

Then, out of the blue, at 5:57 pm this evening, as I was walking around the house distributing the necessary candles and lanterns and flashlights to get us through until bedtime, the power came back. I was elated. And thrilled and relieved and more words like that. I experienced true joy for several hours, and actually still can feel the glow. As for the virus: What virus?

Simon Says "Baaa!"

The typical American voter these days.

For the first time in my adult life I feel like a fool. While I may have been considered a fool by others before now, how I appear outwardly has never been my concern since the only person's approval we need is our own, and eventually that of our Maker. Surely that's a given. But recently I have lost my self-respect, and it sucks.

This sad truth hit me yesterday as I was unpacking groceries after picking them up at the market, having phoned in my order a week ago to avoid entering the store and possibly leaving with a deadly disease. Not only were several things missing, but the whole rigamarole I went through as suggested by the government "experts" seemed stupid and, to be perfectly frank, pointless.

After removing everything from the brown paper grocery bags out in my garage, I then disposed of all plastic and cardboard packaging and transferred foods to plastic bags or Tupperware. Next I sprayed the cans and jars with disinfectant and washed the produce and fruit as if they were teeming with unseen viruses that could enter my body and kill me. Holding my breath the whole time, then finally washing my hands with soap and hot water, it was the first time I ever did anything based solely on hearsay.

I have not met anyone with coronavirus. I do know two people who know someone who had it, but they recovered. Yet I am riddled with fear based solely on news reports, and since when are they accurate, trustworthy and without an agenda? Never. And now more than ever, the people shoveling that shit are insanely focused on inflating the horror in hopes of defeating President Trump at the polls next November, when a Democratic win would plunge us further into the sheeplike existence we find ourselves in right now, following orders: Stay home. Don't go to work. Depend on government handouts like unemployment and food stamps. Don't see your family. Avoid your friends. And above all, listen to Big Brother, or if their plan works and Joe Biden wins, Big Grampa.

It's downright chilling.

The Fakest Faker of Fake News

Hey, listen, suppose a disease far worse than the coronavirus is set to appear? If so, Donald Trump is doing nothing about it and that pisses me off. What a crappy president he is! He should already have a vaccine for this new thing nobody ever heard of, and another 20,000 ventilators in the national stockpile, and possibly even a treatment by now. Shouldn't he? I mean after all, he's everyone's daddy, right?

This is the thinking of CNN's anchor Anderson Cooper, who lives each day to ferret out some new thing Trump is doing wrong and then make his entire evening news show about that one thing. Sometimes he does it with a stern look behind big, black, trendy glasses, and yet at other times he doesn't need those glasses; that Anderson, he's so quixotic! And often so puzzled, as if he just can't believe how dumb our leaders are -- that is when they are Republicans. I would love an opportunity to ask Anderson some questions that might wipe that sardonic grin off his face.

For example, his older brother committed suicide by jumping out a window and going splat on a Manhattan street while Anderson was away in Washington. Did Anderson see how he was partly, if not mostly, responsible? Had he angered or annoyed his brother in some way? Had they fought recently? Isn't that why Anderson left New York City? How can we be sure? Is there any proof that wasn't the case?  Maybe if Anderson had been home at the time, his poor dead brother would be alive today. In fact, probably he would be. No, he definitely would be, according to people who are familiar with the situation.

So I guess, based on that information, we can conclude that Anderson Cooper caused his brother's death. He has blood on is hands! He more than anyone should have known his brother was depressed, yet he left town anyway. That would certainly be Anderson's spin if he were talking about Donald Trump. And his backup singers -- Gloria Borger, Jeffrey Toobin, David Gergen and Dana Bash -- would loudly chorus their agreement.

Event 201: Read It and Weep

 Event 201 swag: A cute stuffed coronavirus!

Hey, if you're stuck inside -- and who isn't?-- with little to do, and you're tired of hearing the same old news about how terrible a job Trump is doing and how he's pushing hydroxychloroquine, a drug that has worked well for many people but apparently not well enough for Anderson Cooper or any of the other Democrat talking heads at CNN and MSNBC who would never, ever say anything good about POTUS, get comfortable, grab a cup of coffee or maybe a glass of wine (depending on the time of day), Google "Event 201" and settle in for an interesting read that will keep you enthralled, amazed, stunned, confused and very pissed off that nobody in the mainstream media ever mentions it, instead devoting every minute to the alleged missteps of Donald Trump
(who is doing a hell of a good job if you ask me), his son-in-law Jared Kushner, and whatever crumbs they can unearth in hopes of winning the election next November.

Trust me, it's a real eye-opener!

Something's Gotta Give

In case you haven't noticed, and you aren't paranoid enough yet, none of the people who supposedly know (more than us) about these matters appear to have a clue about how to handle the current global pandemic. Some say we should shelter in place and wear masks and do anything to avoid contracting the virus, while others say we should open up everything and come down with the virus in order to build up our herd immunity. You'll hear one thing one minute and the exact opposite the next.

First thing this morning I read that fewer people died in New York City yesterday than the day before, and then that the death rates there were "soaring" today. How could that be? And who can we trust? Does anyone know anything for sure? Apparently not. On the other hand, the scientists, journalists and government lackeys -- oops, I mean leaders -- are pretty good at telling us how bad things are and how much worse they will get, like that's helpful. I don't think it is, but that's just me.

So far what I have been finding slightly helpful is eating. Or rather, overeating. And not just any foods, but specifically unhealthy foods. For example, in the past two weeks I have ingested things I haven't eaten since my last LSD trip somewhere in my mid-twenties. I'm talking French fries, potato chips, ice cream, pizza and cookies, in large quantities and often simultaneously. Not to put too personal a slant on things, but this cannot go on: I have a limited wardrobe and a few things are already too tight. Something's gotta give, and soon. Seriously, it's almost bathing suit season.

Eat, Drink and Be Miserable

There's nothing like a little global pandemic to find out what really matters. Today, after sheltering in place for the past two weeks with nothing to show for it but my freshly-painted bedroom, my husband and I threw caution to the wind and drove into downtown Portland to see what a city on lockdown looks like.

We found out two things. First of all, suddenly there's plenty of parking; no need to drive around and around hunting for a spot. This is because you no longer require a spot since everything's closed but "essential" businesses. The second thing we learned was that liquor stores and cannabis retailers are considered essential businesses. Apparently we all need to eat, drink and get high to properly shelter in place. 

14 Days of No Nancy

You wake up each morning and instantly remember that it's still going on. For most of us it's the dull tedium of staying inside, not seeing friends or family, not going out for dinner or to a movie or  a concert or any of the myriad distractions we've devised to distract us from our common fate. But suddenly our common fate is a little too close for comfort and so we are, for the most part, freaking out and perhaps even acting irrationally.

One person who is acting very irrationally is House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, who rather than helping the current horrible situation chooses only to pour hot oil on an already raging fire by setting up a new House committee to investigate Donald Trump. And her creepy pal Adam Schiff is circling the Democratic wagons to begin another impeachment concerning the President's alleged "bungling" of the administration's coronavirus response, as if he is an epidemiologist who should know about such things.

A video clip from February 24th shows Nancy Pelosi encouraging throngs of people to congregate in San Francisco’s Chinatown, saying "It's perfectly safe to be here, come join us,"  before she would later go on to blame President Trump’s early “denial” for the spread of coronavirus. 

I suppose Nancy can be forgiven since she is 80 and demented. Plus she is in a high-risk group for the virus. One can only hope she gets it and is forced to self-quarantine. Fourteen days of no Nancy would be a welcome respite.

Series Review: SCHITT'S CREEK

If I knew that COVID-19 signaled the end of our species I would handle things differently. For example, believing it to be temporary and wanting to avoid getting sick I am eating very healthy meals, healthier than usual, in hopes of boosting my immune system. But if I knew that in six months we'd all be dead I would go a different route, one involving chocolate babka, bagels and lox and Fritos and dip.

The not knowing is what's getting me crazy. Will I get sick and die? Will anyone I love get sick and die? Will we all end up homeless? How bad will life be after this virus is gone? And for how long will it be gone before it comes roaring back next year? These questions haunt me, causing random outbursts of intense sobbing. The only good that has come out of this nightmare is my discovery of the Netflix series Schitt's Creek.

The show debuted in 2015 but I was never drawn to it, mostly because of the off-putting title. Who wants to spend time in or up shit's creek, either with or without a paddle? But desperate times call for desperate measures, and so my husband and I tuned in to what has been a wildly popular show for six seasons and found out why. It is, simply put, hysterical. Each episode, which lasts only 20 minutes, is side-splitting, mostly due to the deadpan performances by the perfect cast.

Eugene Levy plays Johnny Rose, the patriarch of a super-rich family that is suddenly penniless. Like a reverse of The Beverly Hillbillies, this Canadian comedy follows the trials of Rose and his wife Moira (Catherine O'Hara), a former soap opera star, and their two spoiled-rotten grown children (Dan Levy, Annie Murphy) as they try to make do living in a crappy little motel in the nowhere town of the title that they happen to own. (Johnny bought it as a joke gift for his son years ago.) The most familiar face belongs to character actor Chris Elliott as the town's mayor, appearing for the first time in a starring role and nailing it.

So every night my quarantine partner and I eat our super-healthy meal, clean up after dinner and watch about 45 minutes of deeply depressing news, catching up on the current death rates, the seething hatred of politicians eager to find a scapegoat, and the grim forecasts pertaining to our country's financial downfall. Then, grabbing our only lifeline we switch to Schitt's Creek, where we laugh away our cares for an hour or so and where we wish we lived, with or without a paddle.

The Pillow Police

It sickens me that I am somehow in the same sphere of humanity as my husband's first cousin, a raging asshole and a bitch to boot, without a shred of common sense. I would much rather be distantly related to, say, Jackson Browne or Mother Teresa or Nat King Cole or Jonas Salk or Liam Neeson. But no, my husband's dimwitted, poisonous cousin -- and she's got an identical twin! -- is what I got.

Today the fully-grown idiot wrote on Facebook: "If you buy a MyPillow" (from Mike Lindell, who recently appeared on TV in one of Trump's afternoon briefings about Covid-19 and spoke from his heart), "I'm not going to harbor any like or respect for you going forward. This is really sick shit." Here is what she considers to be "sick shit":

“God gave us grace on November 8, 2016, to change the course we were on.”  (Lindell is obviously a Republican and likes the president.)

“Taken out of our schools and lives, a nation had turned its back on God.” (True.)

 “I encourage you to use this time at home to get back in the Word, read our Bibles and spend time with our families.” (All good ideas.)

“Our president gave us so much hope. Where just a few short months ago, we had the best economy, the lowest unemployment, and wages going up, it was amazing.” (True.)

“With our great president, vice president and this administration and all the great people in this country praying daily, we will get through this and get back to a place that’s stronger and safer than ever.” (Maybe.)