"S/he's so stupid s/he thinks "more" is "better."
As the quarantine takes its bite from state to state -- stay inside, avoid close contacts, cough or sneeze into your elbow, wash your hands, never mind going to work -- the juxtapositions of life rise up. Actions don't ameliorate; inaction doesn't absolve. The ads for cars and jewelry haunt the TV airwaves. Newscasters look increasingly desperate for something to say. What if...what if...what if we were all just well and truly fucked?
The president of the United States slumps as he steps away from a podium he had peopled just moments before. He knows his bloviations just don't cut it. People are afraid, and he is a part of a fearful problem ... and he knows it as listeners heed the scientists on the dais at his side and ignore his half-assed meanderings and makes promises he can not and will not fulfill. China, where the outbreak of coronavirus 19 was initially addressed a couple of weeks ago, seems to be on the mend to some extent, but Italy is locked down and other Europeans look to follow suit.
Schools, churches, businesses, Democrats, Republicans, children, adults ... it is a fearsome thing when everyone agrees on everything.
Across the street here, my neighbor Mike enters his house toting a large, plastic-wrapped package of toilet paper. Twenty-four rolls, perhaps. Whole lot of shit coming down, literally and metaphorically. Cafes are empty. The neon lights invite as once before, but there is no one in the streets to heed.
Just look at this ring ... an opal or diamond or sapphire and it's oh-so-carefully crafted; and how about
this vitamin that improves memory or breathing... a luxury car for your delectation. The TV ads cast a preposterous glow.
I woke "this morning" with some pep in a half-light outdoors. But, wouldn't you know it, the half-light was the half-light of sundown, not sun up. But it was too late by the time I understood. By then I had washed some dishes, made a cup of coffee and wondered why the hell I was the only one up and about. It's a good thing I turned 80 and feel somewhat 'excused' from being sane or well-rounded or full of understanding. Not being an asshole is an old reality, a shadow of a shadow.
As the quarantine takes its bite from state to state -- stay inside, avoid close contacts, cough or sneeze into your elbow, wash your hands, never mind going to work -- the juxtapositions of life rise up. Actions don't ameliorate; inaction doesn't absolve. The ads for cars and jewelry haunt the TV airwaves. Newscasters look increasingly desperate for something to say. What if...what if...what if we were all just well and truly fucked?
The president of the United States slumps as he steps away from a podium he had peopled just moments before. He knows his bloviations just don't cut it. People are afraid, and he is a part of a fearful problem ... and he knows it as listeners heed the scientists on the dais at his side and ignore his half-assed meanderings and makes promises he can not and will not fulfill. China, where the outbreak of coronavirus 19 was initially addressed a couple of weeks ago, seems to be on the mend to some extent, but Italy is locked down and other Europeans look to follow suit.
Schools, churches, businesses, Democrats, Republicans, children, adults ... it is a fearsome thing when everyone agrees on everything.
Across the street here, my neighbor Mike enters his house toting a large, plastic-wrapped package of toilet paper. Twenty-four rolls, perhaps. Whole lot of shit coming down, literally and metaphorically. Cafes are empty. The neon lights invite as once before, but there is no one in the streets to heed.
Just look at this ring ... an opal or diamond or sapphire and it's oh-so-carefully crafted; and how about
I woke "this morning" with some pep in a half-light outdoors. But, wouldn't you know it, the half-light was the half-light of sundown, not sun up. But it was too late by the time I understood. By then I had washed some dishes, made a cup of coffee and wondered why the hell I was the only one up and about. It's a good thing I turned 80 and feel somewhat 'excused' from being sane or well-rounded or full of understanding. Not being an asshole is an old reality, a shadow of a shadow.
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