my jaundiced eye

camp wa-me-o-lawd-wa-me session 2

Just to update everyone about ongoing first session covid camp projects:

The plexiglas is still in pieces.

The closet light still doesn’t work.

But this is a new session and lots of activities are on the schedule. Many of them are more aspirational than practical, but campers gotta dream, right?

Lots of hikes, obviously. To date none has actually happened but there are many possibilities. One drawback is the fact that the OB&C and MJE tend to sleep in. Really in. So by the time we’ve fed jesus an egg, sausage, biscuit, juice and hot cocoa, and his daily antidepressant, the morning is pretty much shot. I don’t think he really wants that much to eat but the OB&C feeds him what he wants for breakfast. The kid weighs in at about 70 lbs so that’s a lotta stuff to start that day. No wonder he’s sort of sluggish afterwards. But I march him upstairs to clean his room, make his bed and brush his teeth. Well, I actually haven’t even been upstairs since he arrived six weeks ago, but here at camp-wa-my-o-lawd-wa-me we believe in the honor system, in other words what I don’t know won’t ruin my day.

So by then we’re edging into early afternoon. With summer afternoon rain showers on the horizon, that puts a kibosh on any long treks. The alternative has been trail blazing around the neighboring hills, which is fun but it’s not exactly scaling mt lecomte.

Crafts are also an important part of camp life so jesus and the OB&C have taken to making old timey concoctions. Jesus has stripped bare every sassafras tree within a one mile radius to collect leaves to dry and crush to make file, using an old wooden mortar and pestle. File, pronounced filay, is one of the ingredients used to thicken gumbo. I doubt his mother, albatross, has ever made gumbo, and doubt that she ever will but if she ever does he’s got what she needs, and lots of it.

Then they moved on to witch hazel. He and the OB&C decided that they should soak the leaves, then strain the liquid and mix it with alcohol. No one bothered to research how to do it, and frankly, they didn’t really care, they just did what they thought it would take. So now we are stocked with jars upon jars of cloudy yellow stuff which will either go into his suitcase (and most certainly break or have him hauled off the plane as a terrorist) or will be poured down the sink as soon as we get back from dropping him at the airport. Sure hope it doesn’t blow up our septic tank.

Jesus loves to grub around even where you would rather he not, and he spotted an ancient hand crank ice cream machine that has been sitting in the garage for nigh on to 40 years. It was love at first sight. He dragged the old thing out, scrubbed it clean, more or less, and he and the OB&C set to making peach ice cream. We had two half rotten peaches, a half gallon of cream that was way beyond the best used by date, some really old rock salt and they emptied the ice machine in the freezer and went at it like a house afire. For a really skinny kid he can crank like a seasoned handcar operator. And he never gives up. I mean he never, ever gives up. If he wants to make ice cream he’s gonna crank until he drops. And lo and behold, they sure nuff made peach ice cream. Twice.

We started a new reading activity yesterday. Jesus reading us the local newspaper. He finds the newsworthy doings of a small town infinitely interesting, not to mention the fact that he’s probably never seen an actual newspaper. He updates us on the (now cancelled) local arts and craft shows, performances, religious doings, city ordinance disputes, etc. But he really loves the crime blotter column. It’s mostly pretty small potatoes, like a guy complaining about noisy neighbors. Or there was a fender bender on main street. Or someone reported some person looking suspicious or overheard saying a mean thing. There were a few search and rescue reports, a guy fell down an embankment chasing his dog, but managed to get back up before the rescue squad got there (send him a bill). There was a report of smoke somewhere, and a lost guinea pig. The highlight was a theft, which jesus commented doesn’t even make it into the oakland paper, it’s mostly murders. He said it so matter of factly that it was sort of spooky.

The OB&C and I have come to appreciate the value of unpaid child labor. Jesus loves projects so we decided that he would be just the person to sand down the plastic wood with which the OB&C has filled the rotten front porch stair balusters. Frankly they are by now about 97% plastic wood and needed a lot of sanding. The OB&C presented jesus with a large electric sander which weighs about as much as he does and put him to work. I thought for sure the rattling would shake his very expensive straightened teeth out of his head, or he’d drop it on his foot or accidentally sand off some skin, but he avoided all of those potential mishaps and sanded the dickens out of those posts. Not perfect but pretty good for a compete amateur. Then we set him to work repainting them (along with a lot of the decking, stairs and nearby plants). Again, not as skilled as I would have liked, but honestly you get what you pay for.

He and the OB&C are off at the “antique” mall. They went the other day and jesus was in heaven. He is fascinated with old gizmos and gadgets so naturally picked up and fiddled with everything he came upon. The OB&C was a nervous wreck standing right by him in case he dropped something. In the end he didn’t ask for anything except a $700 ice box.

Gotta give the kid credit, go big or go home.

camp wa-me-o-lawd-wa-me

Greetings from camp covid here in north carolina! We only have one camper, our grandson jesus. He usually goes to regular camp for about 5 weeks but that is kaput so we are it. Basically, we do it because he desperately needs to be away from his mother, daughter albatross, and exposed to some vague semblance of a normal family environment. Well normal if you think living with two addled over drinkers in their seventies is normal. But we have the advantage of having an extremely low bar to hurdle, vis a vis his mother. He’s a wonderful boy, polite, helpful (to a fault, if you get my drift), amiable and clings to the OB&C like a deer tick. Every hour that the OB&C is awake he is right next to him. When the OB&C takes one of several daily naps he waits expectantly, listening intently, asking every few minutes if he’s up yet.

They do get along like two peas in a pod, so basically I am spending the summer as house mother to two eleven year olds. But every day is an adventure as you will see.

Last week they had to haul an old toilet to the landfill which they managed to turn into a two-day campaign. First they couldn’t lift it into the truck, then with some help they got it in but then it needed thirty yards of rope to make sure it didn’t slide around. For god’s sake it’s going to the landfill, what difference does it make? Then, although forewarned to check the operating hours, they arrived seven minutes too late so the OB&C, mini-me and the toilet came back. Tried again the next day, but the OB&C found the whole dump operation totally confounding, technically you need to enter at what seems like the exit gate, drive up to a booth and get a ticket, dump your stuff and go back to the booth and get a bill for the weight of whatever you dumped, $3.15. Hell I’ve dumped tons (well not literally) of stuff there, I just drive in, dump and depart. What takes me 15 minutes took them an hour, 45 minutes of which was trying to figure out why people were lining up at the booth. When it comes to dumping stuff in a landfill, I believe in don’t ask, don’t tell. Just dump and run.

Last week we also had some tree guys come to cut out our “view” of some far hills from here in the cheap seats. We all three stood on the front landing vibrating with anticipation and when one of the trees would fall we’d all scream TIMBER!!!!!. Then we enjoyed the spectacle of the “climber” who went up the nearby trees to trim low branches, then swung from one tree to another by his ropes and pulleys. We held our breath while he was trying to get his rope to the next tree and when he made it safely we whooped and hollered and clapped. Don’t take much to entertain us here, obviously.

However, the tree saga wasn’t over yet! There are several huge pines that are on our neighbor’s land that block our “view”, so we got his permission to top them off. But they are quite a ways from the house so the OB&C and mini-me went on an expedition to find where they were. They drove up an old roadbed just below our property but got stopped by a log across the road. Undeterred, they trekked cross country, laying trail markers, and piles of stones, all the while taking very thorough notes and drawing a map. It was straight out of the hardy boys…and they were proud as peacocks when they got back. Made sure I took a picture of the map and sent it immediately to the tree man. I am certain it will be clear as mud in reality.

They’ve also spent a good bit of time setting up a trail camera. Natch the sim card or whatever the OB&C bought for it was the wrong size so that entailed carefully gluing the package back together and making two separate trips to town, and two more meals at willy’s bbq. Finally got the right card, chose a good spot and installed it, but the pictures were all upside down. I suggested maybe the camera was installed upside down but they immediately poo-pooed that idea. Not remotely possible…sheesh, women!

Moving onto the next project…the light in my closet doesn’t work. They decided that the reason was the switch was bad. I said no, it’s the ballast. That sealed it, it’s definitely the light switch. So after running up and down to the garage and trying every single lever on the circuit breaker they finally found the one to cut the power for the closet. They spent an hour replacing the light switch and emerged declaring victory! I went in five minutes later and it didn’t work. What? Not remotely possible!!! They decided the screws on the plate were too tight (?) so they loosened them up until it about fell off the wall but nada. They then went into executive session, huddled up and mulled over the situation and came to the conclusion that it was obviously the ballast that was malfunctioning.

Then there’s the light over the kitchen sink. The OB&C thought it wasn’t bright enough, and maybe one of the bulbs was out. So he lifted the plexiglas cover and don’t ya know, it cracked into several pieces. Not a problem, off to lowes to buy another piece. I suggested they have them cut it to size, what, are you crazy? We totally got this. I then tried to suggest that they consult our neighbor down the road, algie. He knows literally everything about everything and has all the necessary tools. Nah, don’t need any advice, all it takes is a razor blade. How hard can that be? Having been done in a few times by sheets of plexiglas I knew the answer is very. An hour later they emerged from the garage saying that it’s a whole lot trickier than it looks and the piece they were trying to cut broke into bits. Told ya. Fortunately, they had enough left to try a second time. Now they’re going to try a burn and cut method. I have an old gizmo for burning names into wood, so they’ll use that as a literal warm up before they started cutting. But they’re taking a break from that project for a few days so I anxiously await the next outcome. What I know for sure is that it will involve another trip to lowes and another sheet of plexiglas.

So as you can see, every day is better than the next here at camp wa-me-o-lord-wa-me. And we haven’t even gotten to bottle rockets, target practice or archery.

gra-du-a-tion time, come on!

It’s that time of year again. People graduating from high school, community college, universities and GED programs. So congrats grads. You made it, just in time to get screwed over by a pandemic, except those of you who were on their toes and bagged a spot in big pharma. Lousy timing for the rest of you, but who knew? except everyone in the world, but the americans who were assured that covid would never dare reach our shores. However, in the immortal words of the blond kid in poltergeist “they’re here.”

Louis Pasteur is quoted as saying “Fortune favors the prepared mind.” and it is, in my estimation, a maxim to live by. In all circumstances I believe it’s best to be aware of what might lay ahead and take full advantage of other people’s stupid lack of due diligence.

Graduates I applaud your hard work, especially those pursuing careers in business, which in my opinion is the most admirable profession there is. I myself would frankly prefer to work in a waffle house. But the world doesn’t need one more pancake flipper or teacher, or emt, or epidemiologist.

What we desperately do need is business titans who are committed to making our economy great again. CEO’s can be role models and change the lives of their corporate workforce forever. Sometimes they may even save a corporation by guiding it on a new more draconian path; laying off workers, shutting down plants, or eliminating health insurance and pension plans. Tough times require tough decisions. And if you can’t stand the heat then go work in the mail room.

Great business leaders are never forgotten. I’ll bet you that everyone can remember one boss that taught them something that made them a less productive worker, more selfish team player, more ruthless back stabber, or better ass kisser. Good bosses are in their own way immortal.

Business titans are overvalued and overpaid in our society, and we really have to applaud that. Fortunately, the potential guilt about the disparity between the bottom 99% and the upper 1% does not deter exceptional people like you who want to spend your lives enjoying the hell out of this economic dynamic.

Mark Twain is quoted as saying something about boyhood dreams and whether they are ever fulfilled. He said he doubted it and wrote “look at Brander Matthews. He wanted to be a cowboy. What is he today? Nothing but a professor in a university. Will he ever be a cowboy? It is hardly conceivable.” The OB&C’s father was dean of students at a small university. He started out as a teacher of english literature. He was a great teacher and was well respected by his students and fellow faculty members. So the university brass in all its infinite wisdom thought the right move was to get that guy out of the classroom and kicked him upstairs to be dean of students. It was great for the university and for his career (not so much for his former students) because he became one of a very few top people in the administration of the university. The world could have been his oyster, but he lacked the killer drive and ambition required; to denigrate his colleagues, take credit for their work, refuse tenure to talented younger professors, and never advanced beyond being a top dog at a second tier university. Nor did he ever become a cowboy.

But in all seriousness, promotion is a gold ring that you should grab as soon as it comes around. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll get that corner office and begin to enjoy the trappings of full-blown success. Don’t miss it. That’s a loser move.

I myself have no formal training in business, So, because I have managed both the finances of our company and our family, I think in a more creative way, outside of the spreadsheet as it were. Finances are fungible in my mind… Let’s just say I did something that was teetering on the fine line between ethical vs non-ethical and if by some unfortunate circumstance my accountant or husband happened to get wind of it, my technique involves coming up with a plausible explanation, fast. Winners gotta be quick on their feet! For example, years ago I went to paris with a couple of friends. I didn’t bother to tell the OB&C that the paris bit was a side trip that was not part of the group itinerary to venice. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he foolishly looked at our american express bill and saw a huge tab from an expensive parisian restaurant. We three travelers had agreed to alternate paying for meals and I got stuck with that one. Upon my return, the OB&C, in a fury, presented me with the bill with a huge circle around the charge. I calmly told him to cool his jets and explained that I paid the group “lunch” bill with our american express card and everyone repaid me in cash, hence we earned a whopping number of points. And to make it sound even better I added that I got a wad of euros without going to an atm and paying a transaction fee. He and I both agreed it was pure genius.

Grads, I know that you regret that you weren’t able to walk across the stage and receive your diploma but graduating from college despite a pandemic is a great metaphor for life. Every success comes with a price tag, like having to lay off workers, cut wages, eliminate positions, or worse, deal with incompetent co-workers and even more incompetent superiors. But remember, the heftier the price tag, the more valuable is the success.

So on a scale of 1 to 10, finishing your senior year via zoom and scoring a job with say, big pharma right before a a global pandemic, rates a solid 10!

You are finally starting to make your life your own. Fill it up with everything you have to. Take risks with investors’ money, force yourself to enjoy playing golf with your boss, and obviously let him win, make yourself eat expensive restaurant meals with dull clients (and don’t forget to order the most expensive bottle on the wine list) feign enthusiasm engaging in overpriced workplace activities, like team building in a napa vineyard. Obviously avoid stupid or irresponsible moves like joining the wrong country club or living in the second best condo building. Winners know safe spaces are the best spaces.

The hard truth is that people learn from failures, not successes, so don’t be afraid or daunted, because you will have them, everyone does, but the important thing is to learn how to pin them on someone else. Failure can change your life for the better if you perfect that one essential skill.

You have a clean slate in front of you, so it’s useful to write down your aspirations, expectations, your dreams, your fears, your goals, all of that stuff. But frankly, that is a big waste of valuable time. Your trajectory is straight up, so there’s no point in thinking about what ifs and possible pitfalls that will never happen.

So, here’s to your first step. Congratulations, and when the pandemic knocks em dead, you’ll be right there to sell the crap out of pharmaceuticals.

corona’s gonna getcha

Obviously as an almighty being you know better than I do, but I have a bad feeling that we are barely into the top of the fifth inning with covid…I guess when I asked whatever diety that might exist to deliver our nation from the clutches of the current resident of the oval office in order to save the country I was hoping for a rather more strategic strike than a pandemic. I didn’t mean killing tens of thousands of innocent (well probably not all of them) people. That really seems sort of heavy handed. I might have to accept some possible responsibility here because I personally don’t believe in the supernatural powers of an all seeing, all knowing being who can magically micro-manage our lives…like please god, make my backordered white cropped jeans get here by friday etc. so it probably got kicked down to some inept mid-level heavenly bureaucrat to take care of. Not to judge but looks like poor management and oversight to say the least.

But as you know, things have gone pretty damned sideways, so I’m hoping that you might get a bit more hands on and do a bit of celestial recalibration. And look, I’m not asking for the whole loaf of bologna here, no resurrections or anything labor intensive like that, just dial it back a couple of notches. Say, knock out child molesters (and don’t skimp on the catholics), sex traffickers, murderers, tax cheats (sorry brother j, but you might be going down), throw in the lazy self-dealing cowards in congress, the confederacy of dunces that constitute the president’s cabinet, oh and pence. Sorry I know he professes to being a believer, but you can’t deny that he’s become just another lying politician, and I hate to point out the obvious, but it looks like he’s more trump fearing than god fearing. So as hard as it is, for the good of mankind, you really gotta pop him too. Frankly, if I were you I would take this personally, because he made a deliberate choice between you and his blind ambition and fealty to a person who certifiably does not know right from wrong.

Stick him in purgatory, he’ll hate that.

Look, you know who should go and who should stay so I won’t offer any more advice. I myself may be thrown under the golden chariot here but so be it. Micro-management isn’t how you roll, which I totally get, but just one more thing, and it’s not a big deal, but if you can swing it, could I weigh 110 lbs. when I go?

we-solation

MJE is sick of being trapped in paradise. Trust me I love seclusion, but with the OB&C right here, right now it’s not really isolation, it’s we-solation. BIG difference.

I keep telling him to go somewhere, anywhere. Take a walk, go fishing, go canoeing, chop down something, clean the gutters, power wash the house, organize the garage, I don’t care as long as you are not right next to me. But you know what I get in response, a goddam guilt trip, why don’t you ever go canoeing with me, why don’t you want to go fishing, why do you always want to walk by yourself…hmmm, I don’t know…maybe because you are driving me insane.

And when I manage to extricate myself, tell him I have a doctor’s appointment (which is occasionally true) and am a bit late, just as I’m getting into the car he’ll stand at the front door and scream, which doctor, where’s his office, how long do you think its going to take? Can you pick up 8 bags of mulch and some swiss cheese while you’re at it. Oh and I have some scripts ready at the pharmacy could you grab those too? And we’re out of 75 watt light bulbs, and toilet paper. And, it looks like we might be getting low on coriander seed so you might want to breeze through the spice aisle and stock up. Oh and I forgot to tell you, I sat in one of those flimsy antique french dining room chairs you had to have and the damned back broke off, so grab some gorilla glue.

When he isn’t stuck to me like a limpet, he loves doing manly potentially dangerous things, like bushwacking up some mountain with absolutely no idea where he’s going (and in one case ending up on an entirely different one than he thought he was on), or digging oysters and sinking 3′ deep in pluff mud without a pole, or diving into an alligator infested pond to retrieve someone’s 8 iron. Stuff like that.

The other night a small tree fell on the house during a storm, he practically wet his pants in excitement (or an enlarged prostate). He evaluated the situation every which way from sunday and came up with what he considered to be the best possible plan; first he would put a ladder under the tree base to hold it up so it wouldn’t crush the shrubbery when it fell, then he’d climb the ladder and saw off the top part that was resting on the roof with a chainsaw and then grab that part with lightening speed (while still holding the chainsaw) before the branches could go through the kitchen window. I listened patiently and said no, that is not what you are going to do. You are going to get on the horn to our pal manfred and see if he can come help you. He mulled that over and grudgingly conceded that it might be a marginally better idea. Later that day manfred arrived with a hand saw. And they managed to get the thing down without anyone sustaining mortal injury, breaking any windows, or crushing the shrubbery.

As manfred was going back to his truck, mission accomplished, he said that in his experience with risk assessment, not using a chain saw always seems like a smarter move. Good thought. Only thing is that the OB&C literally does not know what risk assessment is. It’s just not something he thinks he needs to waste valuable time doing when he could be going balls to the wall on some hair brain scheme.

It’s like the joke about what a redneck’s last words are. “Hey guys watch this!”

corona: together forever, and ever

Whew, MJE and the OB&C are slowly creeping toward the end of our fortnight of forced coronatine and man it is getting to be touch and go. Distance undoubtably makes the heart grow fonder but being stuck together 24/7 is making both of us flatline. In half a century of wedded bliss we’ve certainly had rough patches but this is a goddam sinkhole.

But whatcha gonna do? We try to be good citizens and play by the rules, although the OB&C did commit a major violation several days ago and ventured forth for more wine, but we all understand that, right? Alcohol and drugs, legally prescribed of course, are essential to our mental health and wellbeing, at least mine. One of the only upsides to hurricane katrina was being able to go into a pharmacy and just say I need some xanax and they’d hand them right over, no questions asked. Never thought I’d look back on that experience fondly, but I was wrong.

As mentioned earlier, MJE has been doing zumba classes at home. Well I did two. But now I feel like I’ve been run over by a train, a couple of times. My muscles are so used to disuse that they are incredibly pissed off. I hurt in places I didn’t know I even had. I was going to go for three but I opted for a couple of glasses of rose instead and feel so much better. Not only does it dull the pain but it also dulls whatever resolve I might have had to keep exercising. A twofer.

The OB&C has also decided to get “back in shape” to wit he did ten sit ups yesterday and is now hunched over like cro magnon man, unable to stand erect. Whenever he gets some hair brained idea about working out he hits it like he’s an olympic athlete. He goes to the gym and piles on the weights, does push ups, leg lifts, and his favorite, the plank. He doesn’t get that if his stomach is dragging on the ground it doesn’t count. However, he returns preening like a peacock asking me to punch him in the stomach and feel his biceps. He slaps his belly and declares that it is all muscle. Well if that’s all muscle then I have an ass like jennifer lopez.

Thank god he has his seven year old samsung cell phone. He’s on it like a teenage girl, constantly texting his geezer friends who also obviously have nothing better to do. What is it with these middle aged men, well middle aged if we live to be 140 years old, they seem to have an endless supply of incredibly lame jokes and stupid videos. I dread when he says, hey look at this, because I know it’ll be some redneck jumping into a frozen swimming pool or lighting himself on fire or blowing up a bunch of stuff. Or provoking some wild animal and then running for his life. Sheesh, let the bear eat him and put me out of my misery.

We used to have a book called the darwin awards about people who did such incredibly stupid stuff that they killed themselves in the process, therefore eliminating their genes from the gene pool. It was hilarious in a sick morbid sort of way. Now we can’t trust anyone to be smart enough not to eat a bag of peanuts if they have a peanut allergy. There has to be a warning label on the package in case they didn’t realize there were nuts in there. Or the fad with teenagers eating detergent pods. The manufacturer had to plaster social media with a statement that it is “deeply concerned about intentional and improper use of liquid laundry pacs” and print a warning on the boxes “do not eat!” Wash your laundry stupid.

Good news is we are washing our hands 14 times a day. Bad news is now we can only afford to bathe every other week.

cage fight: zumba vs covid-19

MJE went to the grocery store the other day and was greeted with a sign stating that the store was open for seniors only, between 7am and 8am. Huh? What old geezer, MJE included, gets up and goes to the grocery store at that hour? That’s like saying the store will be open for alcoholics only, between 5pm and 7pm. I can tell you from experience that alcoholics have much better things to do then than go to the grocery store.

I hate to make waves in the midst of this pandemic but allocating the predawn hours to “seniors” smells of ageism if you ask me. Forcing old folks to drag themselves out of bed at ungodly hours just to “protect them” seems like it might cause more damage than good. In the words of our dear leader, the solution should not be worse than the problem, wise, so wise. Imagine us dear fragile seniors being shocked awake by the blare of our big ben alarm clocks, possibly suffering heart attacks or strokes as a result. Has anyone compiled stats on that, no, you know why, because old people are expendable. We’re living too long and sucking medicare and social security dry so the federal bean counters figure if a few more of us drop out then it’s not entirely bad news.

But MJE refuses to succumb to this COVID scourge, this unseen enemy, this vicious economy killer. So today I decided to get off my behind and do some vigorous exercise and join the ranks of active seniors. I found a you tube zumba video, donned my snappy workout togs and hopped on it con mucho gusto. The OB&C, lured by the infectious latin beat, wandered by and ogled the women in their skimpies for a few minutes. He then snarkily remarked that it didn’t look like I was doing the same thing they were, before he ambled on into the kitchen scratching his ass. Screw you buddy, I’d like to see you try this caca. Merengue! Salsa! Cha cha! Mamba! Samba! Andele, andele!!!

After about twenty minutes of stumbling through the routines, I realized that I was actually experiencing all of the symptoms of COVID-19: sweats, shortness of breath, fatigue, body aches, coughing.

I’ve decided that I should just stick to what seems to be most effective: inactivity, excessive drinking and eating and not interacting with anyone, including the OB&C with whom I am in housebound quarantine.

Good news is I found toilet paper online! Bad news is it’s imported from wuhan.

so many wars

In case you may have missed this newsflash, our country is under a withering siege by vicious drug cartels. Those dastardly drug lords think that just because the federal government is tying itself in gordian knots figuring out what the hell to do about COVID-19 that we’ve taken our eye off the real killer here, the scourge of illegal drugs pouring in. And it is a scourge, a real scourge. It’s so true. They are out there lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on anyone who might be outside going to the grocery, liquor store or pharmacy. Admittedly they have to pounce pretty high if they are on the other side of our 161 mile fence between us and mexcico. Of course, they could get a ladder, or walk around it or scale it like a rock climber. But best not to dwell on scenarios so preposterous that it is inconceivable. Those people are not big thinkers, they just don’t have the brain power, they see a huge wall, and it is huge. You should see it. They see that thing and just turn around and walk back to guatamala.

Do those drug crazed fiends really think that the federal government can’t do two things at once? Fools. At a recent daily COVID-19 gasbag press conference trump trotted out a platoon of grizzled military men, all wearing more medals than mussolini. One by one they kneeled down and licked our dear leader’s wingtips then proceeded to reassure the american public that what with the COVID-19 thing going around it would be highly unlikely anyone would die of a drug overdose before the virus did them in. Naaaah they didn’t, but that would have been sorta funny.

When things just aren’t going your way, like with the wuhan flu, it’s always good to have a back up plan you can point to and say, see this here, I’ve got this. I am all over this. This drug war deal is running like clockwork because I made it. I’m the only one who could have done this extraordinary thing that nobody ever tried before. Never even tried. Can you believe it? This incredible team, america’s military might, under my command, have accomplished something no one believed could happen. Totally amazing. Years from now, people will still be talking about it. He went on to hail himself as a wartime president, right up there with washington, lincoln, and roosevelt, except even better. He’s having to fight two wars at the same time, like one isn’t enough work. Not only does he have the drug war, which is going really, really well but he’s also got the chinese flu, the unseen enemy. So tough to fight an unseen enemy, you can’t see em, it’s like they’re invisible. It’s tough, very tough. But he can do it all.

the colossal corona cockup

Corona Cockup

We know we are in deep dung when we are forced to rely on governors and local authorities to control a pandemic. You know, those jokers who never seem to do anything except line their pockets and appoint relatives to the payroll. But sadly, that’s about all we’ve got to get us through this clusterfuck. Obviously the feds are incapable of organizing a bingo game, much less responding to a worldwide health crisis.

But el president assures us that things are going to be solved “fast, rapidly and quickly”. Who can argue with three words that mean the same thing. He has a really good feeling about an amazing, fantastic drug called chloroquine, but some people add another word in front of it, hydroxy, so it sounds like hydroxychloroquine. It’s a huge word for a fantastic drug which has been around a long time, a long time. It definitely won’t hurt you because it has been used for many, many years. It has not been tried on the chinese virus, or wuhan flu as some people call it, but it has worked on many, many other things. It started out as a medicine to treat malaria (FYI malaria is not a virus, it is caused by a protozoan parasite that invades red blood cells and causes intermittent fevers) but he’s heard from many, many people that hydroxychloroquine works for lots of different things, because it is a real miracle drug, a fantastic, unbelievable drug, unbelievable. People can’t believe it. He has heard many incredible stories that people have used it for lots of things: tennis elbow, eczema, toenail fungus, alopecia and so many other things. It’s really a miracle.

Of course there are always some really dumb people who just can’t get it right. Some bozo died after he ate a bunch of his wife’s fish food, because he saw that chloroquine was in it, who does that? Someone who actually listened to el president about what an amazing drug it is? Talk about stupid.

Fortunately, we have our pre-eminent health officials available to offer their sage advice. You know who they are, the people who stand behind the president during his press conferences looking like they all have stockholm syndrome. There’s dr. birxs with her pained smile and fab scarves, dr, fauci who will most certainly lose all of his teeth if he clenches his jaws any tighter, and of course, the stone faced vp pants, the monotone milquetoast, master of the mid-distance stare, commander of the corona virus space force and fall guy when this shitshow goes sideways. I’m no towering intellect but it sure looks like we’re on a pretty steep tilt right now. His stupor-inducing delivery, punctuated by a minimum of at least a dozen rhapsodic shout outs to his dear leader, is concluded with his waving the 15 days to “slow the spread” card which we are all advised to heed. Imagine having all of the information you need to know on how to stop a pandemic on an 8” X 10” laminated card! That’s american know how!

The fact that all of the governmental poohbahs responsible for containing this virus are standing cheek by jowl seems to send a somewhat contradictory message about social distancing. Our dear leader has made a pretty dramatic pivot from this is a nothing burger concocted by the democrats, to yeah we have a few cases but I can solve it in a few days, to there are more cases but we have this totally under control, to holy shit look at the stock market…and that was the moment when the economic, not physical, pain caused by this pandemic began to penetrate el presidente’s thick skull and dull mind. It was only then that he finally listened to whatever clear-eyed advisors he still has and took another tack, assuming the mantle of a “wartime president” facing an unseen enemy….oooooo. So brave, so courageous, so decisive!

However, instead of “all we have to fear is fear itself” coming from our commander in chief, we’ve got “quit whining and fend for yourselves.” And, ever the victim, trump stated that the country was out of bullets when he took office, like real bullets but now we have more bullets than any other country in the world. An amazing number of bullets, so many bullets. What’s up with the bullets? Are we supposed to shoot ourselves out of this thing?

And it’s all obama’s fault.

ten out of ten

So let’s see where we are with our pal COVID-19….uh, in the crapper? Okay, I’ll take a more positive view and say we aren’t yet at the very bottom of the can, but we’re on our way there.

According to our president of alternative reality, he is on this like beans on rice. He has rated his performance as ten out of ten, while simultaneously stating that he is not responsible for any of the bad bits.

He pronounced that not only can everyone who wants a test, get one, but more important, he’s gonna offer every registered voter who tests negative a two nights for the price of one at mar-a-lago! What a fabulous deal! And if you are over sixty and get your test within the next 24 hours he’ll throw in a free round of golf. Only he can make such an amazing offer. Most of the flights into miami have been cancelled so top off the tank (gas is getting cheaper!) and hit the road boomers. Just like the old days!! Woohoo! Road trip!!!

And although what’s left of his health team were instructing people to self-quarantine, practice social distancing and not to assemble in groups of more than ten, he assured his fans that his rally events in toledo, detroit and chicago are still a go. He cautioned people to arrive early as the lines will be very long. To ensure everyone’s safety, each attendee will receive a make america clean again bottle of hand sanitizer as a souvenir. These rallies promise to be really, really great and people should definitely come and bring along their voting age family members!

Meanwhile in the real world cities are shutting down schools, restaurants and bars and workers are being sent home as businesses close. But all is not lost, jarred, despite his total lack of expertise is on the job as the recently appointed czar de corona, coordinating all of daddy in law’s fictional rapid response to the pandemic, Jarred, aka wonder boy, already has a pretty hefty work load: achieving a middle east peace accord, moving israel’s capitol to jerusalem, supervising the government’s response to the opioid crisis, criminal justice reform, and liaison to mexico, china and the muslim community. So I guess he’s batting like 125. Not so good. But despite his amazing capabilities, real and imagined, he is unable to turn back the hands of time. Nor is he capable of coordinating the federal government’s shambolic response to what was a wholly predictable situation. The one thing he does have is a half empty building at 666 fifth avenue which he will be happy to lease out for additional hospital capacity, obviously at well above market value, given the current situation. America first!