Louisville Weblog

Stepping outside early today, I thought “What a beautiful Friday morning!”

“Or Monday morning. Or Saturday morning.”

And I realized it doesn’t matter much these days.

Months go by without a haircut.

I’d like to think I’m starting to look like this:

Or even Kurt Russell:

But I’m afraid it’s more of a cross between Dracula and Wolverine, minus the sexy:

Wearing a hat helps some:

But a headband tends to give one the Duck-Dynasty-slash-domestic-terrorist look:

And why does it look so cute on this guy:

When this is the best I can hope for?

This story is potentially an argument against unemployment stimulus payments, as apparently some people have way too much time on their hands.

These people think that New York City’s Central Park is currently teeming with mole children who had been living in underground tunnels, and who have recently been rescued by the US military, on the orders of Donald J. Trump.

Seems that the COVID-19 epidemic is a big ruse meant to keep people in their houses while the US military rescues thousands of children from underground tunnels, some of which they claim are right underneath Central Park. These children were transported to the Navy hospital ships — the USNS Comfort in New York and the USNS Mercy in Los Angeles. Now these children are being treated in all of the tents that were set up in Central Park to treat people with COVID-19.

The mole children, it is claimed, have lived underground all of their lives, and are thus “deformed” and sensitive to light (because it’s dark down there in the tunnels). They have, of course, been bred for the specific purpose of being sex slaves, but also for being eaten and having their adrenal glands harvested so coastal elites can get high on their adrenochrome.

Actually, as someone who used to read the hilariously deadpan Official UFO Magazine back in the seventies, and closely followed the trials and tribulations of Bat Boy in the late, great Weekly World News, I kinda enjoy this stuff.

“The hurricane people are having anxiety attacks,” I told my wife recently.

“Why?”

“In the event of an evacuation, they can’t cram everyone into the dome like they’re used to doing.”

Pause.

“Hurricane season is a long way off,” she said.

“With an attitude like that, you are qualified for a high-paying job in Washington, D.C.”

…does not necessarily mean that the area under the curve diminishes.

Before getting out of bed the other morning, I asked CVH (Masters, Public Health) about corona lockdowns.  There won’t be a vaccine for at least a year.  Consequently, until enough people get sick and develop immunity (assuming they develop immunity; that is not clear at this point), lifting the lockdowns will just cause infections to soar as if there had never been lockdowns.  I asked her, therefore, if the lockdowns are lifted before the widespread administration of a vaccine, are we just prolonging the inevitable?

“Yes,” she said.  “Epidemiology science tells us the only way to control a pandemic like this would have been to have widespread testing early on.  We didn’t, and we don’t, so it’s just going to run its course through the population regardless.”

Economists quoted in The Wall Street Journal estimate current unemployment to be around thirteen to fifteen percent.  If the lockdowns aren’t lifted, Great Depression level unemployment is certain.

“So, it’s guaranteed that we’re going to see mass deaths, or a major economic depression, or both?” I asked.

“That’s right,” she replied, ruining my whole day.

I spoke with the neighbor across the street the other night (from an appropriate distance).  She asked how CVH and I were getting along.

“Pretty well,” I said.  “Frankly, I am pleasantly surprised.  I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with us being cooped up together for so long, but we’re actually getting along just fine. We haven’t been stuck with each other this much since the honeymoon.  I guess we really do love each other.  Who knew?”

I try to follow the Thumper rule: if you can’t say anything nice…and capitalize on those occasions when I can say something positive.  I told CVH this story and she said she would take it in the manner in which she would like to think it was intended.

CVH’s favorite ecclesiastical holiday is Palm Sunday.  She particularly enjoys waving the palm frond.  Of course, going to church was not a option this year.  So I remembered how we made newspaper trees as little kids and made her a frond that she could wave while watching the service on TV.

I made it from The Wall Street Journal.  I’m not sure if that’s ironic.

Corona has been found in a zoo tiger.

I told CVH we’re going to have to pull an Anne Frank and hide our cats in the attic, lest the neighbors surround our house and demand that we turn them over to The Committee.

Here I am, in my golden years, supposedly more prudent and sensible.

I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t drive fast and I always wear my seat belt.  I take my (doctor-prescribed) medicines.  I meditate and exercise regularly.  I drink a lot of water, and eat a sensible, low-fat diet.

And today I blow it all by going to the grocery store and using a cart.