“Tap, tap, tap…this thing on?”

Holy cow. It’s been almost a year since I posted. “Day 61” was my last post. How quaint…

I don’t even know what day of the pandemic we’re on anymore. Clearly, I lost count/interest/energy at Day 61.

Whatever it is, it’s, unfortunately, the new reality.

A friend hit me up today and wanted to catch up…via Zoom. This is the new reality.

I want to tell my kids something. But then again, I don’t. Life is over. Well, let me clarify. Life as we know it…errrr…as I knew it at least. Here we were (and by we I mean me) rolling along in this thing called life–triumphs and tragedies all–and the next thing you know, it all get’s fucking upended like a goddamn turnip cart.

Trump. Nah, let me be more precise. Reagan. Falwell. Bush. All the neoconservative, fundamentalist Christian nutjobs (update: domestic terrorists) have successfully changed the paradigm of what used to be “my” world.

I didn’t see it coming. Or maybe I did, and just didn’t realize just how game-changing the hate, racism, and misogyny would be. I just assumed life would be a series of changes, but that we’d be rolling along pretty much the same path. The same track.

Not anymore.

When my friend and I chat later this week, I’ll express to him my fear. The fear that we have all had our heads in the sand for far too long and good people like us have allowed this cancer to grow.

It’s not too late, but it’s awfully damn close.

More to follow…

Day 55: Murder Bees and Murder Cars

I’m no structural engineer, but I’m pretty sure this photo of my bike last Tuesday does not represent the preferred geometry of a road cycle.

But more on that later.

Murder bees, amirite? WTF.

Between wondering if the next presidential election will be compromised, the very first time in my 59 years I’ve even considered the possibility that our election may be illegitimate, and then fricking Murder bees…

And now we have Billy Bob and Jethro murdering African American’s in cold blood in the South. Lynching by Winchester. Yeah, I know, I’m late to the game. Most of my liberal, boomer cohort is late to this reality. We just KNEW this wasn’t our America. Until a vile, grifting, wannabe despot opened our eyes to a new and ugly world, that our privilege has allowed us to ignore.

Maybe the quarantine is a good thing. It’s allowed some of us to take a very hard look at how our perception of our America and how our new reality of America squares. News flash: it doesn’t. My gut tells me that despite the horrors we are collectively experiencing, that these hardships were/are a necessary corrective mechanism. God, I have to believe that, because if I don’t, desperation and cynicism will win the day.

This is our opportunity to fundamentally reshape our democracy for the better. But that won’t happen until folks like me, erstwhile liberals who have skated along waiting for the other guy to do the right thing, take a deep dive into the agenda of organizations like Black Lives Matter and #MeToo. Because if we don’t step out of our freshly cut front lawn encapsulated hallucinations, we will eventually be at the mercy of the steadily rising fascist movement crawling out from underneath their rocks and finding agency in a new media landscape.

Fuck. This is depressing.

Back to the bike. On my lunch hour Tuesday, I decided to try to get an hour ride in at least three days per week to combat my predictably expanding waistline. Less than a mile in I was approaching a four-way stop sign and saw a pick-up truck approaching his stop on my right. I slowed down to nearly a stop and entered the intersection as I watchfully eyed the truck, out of sheer habit and a well-earned caution of Berkeley drivers. Sure enough, the truck never even slowed down, entering the intersection and turning directly into me.

Had I not anticipated this, I would have gone underneath the truck, just as my bike did, but seeing it unfold in slow motion, I was able to unclip from my pedals and ninja jump backward as the bike crunched under the front bumper. I literally landed on my feet, unhurt.

I’ll spare you the legal details, but a HUGE shout out to the witness that stopped and provided his name and phone number. His testimony to the insurance company solidified their ruling that the driver was 100% at fault.

I don’t recall if I’ve documented this on my blog before, but I suffer from PTSD (TL:DR, but it can be gleaned from previous posts) and this little incident unexpectedly caused it to rear its ugly head for the balance of the day. This is the second time in the last six months that a stressful incident has unleashed the PTSD symptoms. I’m sure some of it is simply aging, but I intend on checking in with a therapist specializing in PTSD to explore this more. I’m no hero and strongly encourage others to seek out mental health. Time for me to take my own advice.

Day 55. Nearly 80k Americans dead. Damn…

 

Day 38: Office Space

I started my new job on Monday. Remotely.

You haven’t lived until you get a chance to meet your new coworkers, thirty-plus of them, via Zoom. It’s all you can imagine it is, anxiety-wise.

Starting a new gig is tough to begin with, but Employment in the Time of Corona is a unique beast.

For starters, even working remotely, I’m exhausted. 8-5, Monday through Friday, sitting at my desk, trying to navigate the ins and outs of a massive bureaucracy that I’ll soon be enmeshed in.

All I can think of is Office Space and TPS reports.

But I digress…

I actually LOVE my new job. I work for an organization that I love and I’m a part of something much bigger than myself. Educating human beings. It’s pretty cool.

Not to mention that I have a job to quasi-bitch about. Lots of folks don’t. In fact, my EDD money for my lost work is AWOL, right along with my Stigmata Check signed by Dear Leader.

Speaking of Dear Leader, at today’s televised auto-fellatio session, Dr. Trump recommended injecting disinfectant.

I swear to God if I went back ten years and time-traveled to just now and read the words I just typed…I’d…fuck I don’t know that I wouldn’t just end it all right then and there.

But here we are.

In logistical minute news, we scored a 30-roll of toilet paper at our local Asian market. In direct response to Dear Leader’s putrid racism, I vow to envision wiping my ass with his way too long ties every time.

All end with this: dear office workers–God bless you. This is the first time in 45 some years of employment that I’ve had an 8-5. It’s a lot more challenging than I anticipated. Kudos to all who trudge this important path.

 

 

Day 29: The Real Enemy

I have a well-documented hatred and disgust for Donald Trump. It began long before he announced his intentions for a run at the presidency, back in the days when he was simply a grifting real estate mogul in New York.

As the nation saw yesterday, under stress, his true colors came out. He’s a fraud. A grifter can only run the game so far and it’s my desperate desire that yesterday was a peek at what’s to come.

But amidst the death and destruction caused by this would-be despot, the fact of the matter is he’s just an instrument of a far more sinister personality: Republican Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky. Forgetting for a moment Vlad Putin’s influence on Trump (I believe it’s there, but less active and more opportunistic on Russia’s part), McConnell is the real enemy.

On April 12, 2020, the New Yorker published an exhaustive examination of McConnell: his upbringing, his motivations, and his relationship with Trump.

As many have suspected, absent the support of McConnell, the Trump presidency, and the disaster it has wrought, would have ended almost as soon as it began.

Without re-narrating Mayer’s excellent piece (its TLDR for sure, but worth the time), it’s painfully evident that at some point, McConnell developed a sociopathic need for control. He has become the poster child for the end justifying the means. Witness the article’s discussion of McConnell’s personal disgust for Trump, balanced against his own innate lust for power, and his unremitting willingness to turn up his nose while he does the unpleasant work of satiating the President as long as the Republican base, particularly in Kentucky, is soothed.

Perhaps the most striking feature of the piece was an anecdote about McConnell’s long relationship with David Jones, former head of Humana. Upon Jones’ recent death, McConnell said he was “without exaggeration, the single most influential friend and mentor I’ve had in my entire career.” And yet when Jones, prior to his death, and his sons, post-mortem, implored McConnell in detailed and pointed letters to prevent the train wreck that Trump was foisting on America, McConnell chose the path leading to power, and simply ignored their pleas. That corporate donors wield such specific policy-making power is the subject for another day, but further evidence that the Oligarchy is already among us.

It’s abundantly clear where McConnell’s priorities lie, and he has no shame in doing whatever it takes to attain that goal. He is willing to destroy the United States of American and her constitution to retain his hold on power.

Without McConnell, Trump goes down in history as another failed sideshow barker, properly disgraced and reviled.

With McConnell, historians will have a field day describing the global criminal enterprise that Trump has amassed.

I only hope they give credit to the real enemy.

Stay safe…

Day 28: #trumpmeltdown

Brief one today because I want to tackle a New Yorker article tomorrow.

#trumpmeltdown is trending on Twitter.

This is in response to his WH Task Force Briefing in which he played a campaign video (produced at taxpayer’s expense, which is illegal) that extolled his virtues in responding to the #trumpvirus. Then he went on to meltdown when a CBS reporter, properly, and FINALLY held his feet to the fire about his negligent/criminal response. He lost it.

More of this, please. Just in time for November.

Perhaps most sociopathic moment was his direct claim that the President had “total authority.”

Yup.

Stay safe…

Day 27: The blood on his hands…

Dear Leader recently downplayed the need for Covid19 testing at one of his televised masturbation sessions.

Today, I read an excellent article by one of my former classmates detailing the tragic death of a young Santa Rosa police detective. It was heartbreaking.

The detective and her family requested tests multiple times during the initial stages of her illness and were refused by Kaiser (this is a post for another day, but it appears that they were following federal guidelines). When the test was finally performed, sadly, the young detective was too far gone. She died.

And our “President” has blood on his hands. My god, even ignoring (Narrator: there is NO ignoring) his intentionally negligent behavior leading up to this crisis, that his narcissistic obsession with ratings overrides any efforts at correcting the mess he’s already made just makes me sick. And makes me very, very embarrassed to be an American. That’s a first for me.

There is ZERO excuse for his behavior and when I read about a preventable death like this, well, it makes me want to take action. That’s the silver lining to this ominously dark cloud we’ve been living under since 2016.

Maybe the lives of those lost can be remembered and honored by those of us unaffected physically by taking action to guarantee something like this never happens again.

Look, folks, we’ve been headed down this road since Reagan and the moral majority and we’ve sat on our asses and let it happen. What we are experiencing today is the direct result of privileged apathy. It disgusts me. And I share as much responsibility as the next guy.

Let’s do something about it in the next presidential election. Regardless of your views on Biden it’s IMPERATIVE that we vote out the criminal currently occupying the White House. Spare me all the arguments about voting for Trump in protest or simply not voting. You’ll have just as much blood on your hands as Dear Leader does.

But that’s not enough. We MUST institute significant constitutional reform. The reality is, we’ve outgrown the document as written, but the framers were keen enough to create an amendment mechanism to allow growth. Well, it’s time to grow kids: starting with oversight of the executive branch, term limits in the Senate, campaign finance reform, and measures to eliminate gerrymandering.

And lastly, Trump and his entire criminal enterprise must be investigated, prosecuted, and sentenced to the full extent of the law.

To do anything less is to dishonor the memories of those Americans who have been preventably lost to this pandemic.

Stay safe…

Day 26: Ennui

Listlessness and boredom punctuated by moments of terror.

And by terror, I mean those private moments, for me generally at bedtime, when I feel a bit of a sore throat. Or my allergies kick in and I cough.

When I suit-up and ride my bike, I’m subconsciously aware of the fact that a distracted driver can mow me down on each and every ride. It’s a risk I accept and a trade-off I choose to engage in for the joy of cycling.

But the Covid19 virus has me worried. I don’t know specifically why, but there’s something about the prospect of going to bed with a bit of a sore throat or a little cough and spiraling into the emotional projection that four days from now I’ll be intubated, alone, and drowning in my own fluids. Unable to spend my last few moments on earth with the ones I love.

Adding to the ennui is the global reality that specifically what worries me is a phenomenon that has been exacerbated by Dear Leader and negligently mishandled by the same. There’s just something about the fear of dying and knowing that the entity that you’re forced to rely on and trust, your government, has bungled its response so horribly. I can’t imagine the rage felt by those who’ve lost loved once to this virus as they watch the fuckstain-in-chief brag about his ratings or point to his empty head and claim those are the only metrics he needs to defeat “the invisible enemy.”

We are fucked.

The good news is: as with all things, this too shall pass and I’ll share some silver lining thoughts in the coming days.

Stay safe…

Day 25: “Get off my damn lawn”

Finding myself sleeping in way too late; 0930 this morning which is close to a “fuck it and blow the whole day” time in my world.

Stuff like that happens in quarantine. Absent a job, there’s not a whole lot of reason to wake up. Surely, I jest, but I am pointing out one of the components of our new reality. Too much sleep, and as I’m reading on social media, too much drinking. I’m definitely subject to the former and no longer allowed to engage in the latter, so I think I’m good.

Today, in response to a question about what metrics he would use to decide when the country should go back to work, Dear Leader pointed to the oblong object just beneath the bleached mop on his head and said: “the metrics in here.”

I can’t even.

I understand why Bernie supporters are upset. I cannot understand why, despite their hatred for Biden and the so-called establishment that he represents, they would either not vote for Biden, abstain from voting, or cast a vote for Trump.

I hate to sound all “you kids, get off my damn lawn”-ish, but holy shit, grow the fuck up. This is NOT a perfect world. Sometimes adults must choose between the lesser of two evils. This is one of those times for Bernie Bros and it’s time for them to either buck up, or just freely admit their goal is anarchy because I can damn well guarantee them that will be the result of a second Trump term.

Jesus, just writing that increases my blood pressure.

How hard is it, to simply cast a vote, not necessarily for your nirvana, but in your own (and that of your community) best interests?

OK, enough of that crap…

I took a friend on a bike ride (yes, we observed all the proper social distancing for cycling) for the first time today. She enjoyed it and I’m hoping I’ve secretly indoctrinated another poor fool into the majestic (and expensive) sport of road cycling.

I reconnected via text with an old friend today.  A friend from Part I of my life and it was both a genuine pleasure and a real healing moment for me. I highly recommend this type of thing when possible.

Finally, I’m pretty close to broke right now. No stimulus check has arrived and I’m navigating an EDD system that is confusing and I’m not sure when or if I’ll be getting any unemployment benefits. Stressful but manageable.

And I’ll end with the heartfelt sentiment that despite this, I’m incredibly blessed by whatever spiritual force/entity that maintains this thing we call life.

Stay safe…

Day 24: Did we get vaccinated? edition

Didn’t ride today. Legs felt like logs. Meh.

I did get stuff done though so I felt productive and it wasn’t a total waste.

Stressing about money. I cut this new job way too close, so it’s going to be incredibly tight for a month or so. I know. Quality problems…

I’m starting to sense, on social media, that people are starting to settle into this quarantine gig. They don’t at all seem happy about it, but there is a distinct sense of acceptance and adaptation.

We heard a strange theory today. Researchers at Stanford are investigating whether or not the Covid19 virus made a visit to California in late fall. All sorts of anecdotal reports of “odd” illnesses are popping up in northern California. Including my own.

I can generally feel when the flu is coming on and in either late November or early December I told my girlfriend it was coming. It stalled for a week then finally hit. But it only lasted a day and was gone. That’s NEVER happened to me before. It’s usually a 5-10 day ordeal.  The hypothesis is that it arrived here in a milder form, ergo my weird symptoms, and created antibodies for some of us in California. Sort of like a flu vaccine for Covid19. This speculation is based both on the anecdotal reports, but by statistics. New York City pulled the trigger on Shelter-in-Place only 72 hours after where I live, the Bay Area implemented it. Yet they are experiencing a Covid fatality rate 14 times higher. I took Stats in college and freely admit they are nowhere close to proving this based on statistics, but it’s certainly interesting dinner fodder while…well…not doing a whole lot.

Tomorrow I’ll find out about possible funding at the University of Montana and will need to make a decision on whether to attend next fall or defer a year. I think I already know the answer but will keep it under wraps until I here more in the coming days.

I can’t imagine what Missoula, Montana will be like for this suburban/City boy…

 

Day 23: Remembering Matt

Returned a few hours ago from an early morning grocery store run. I was hoping to score some highly prized toilet paper.

I was allowed to buy 4 rolls.

Apparently, the trick is getting to the store at 6:00am vs. 6:45am.

Whatever.

I’m feeling a bit sick of this whole thing. I was not able to take in my own grocery bags. I could not buy more than one carton of eggs. Yadda yadda yadda…

I’m whining now. The world isn’t the same and I don’t like it. I don’t like wearing gloves and an N95 mask to buy fucking groceries. I don’t like asking the grocery store workers, many of whom I know on a first-name basis if they and their colleagues are okay.

I don’t like having an orange Cheeto despot running my country.

But all that is beside the point.

Today, I’m healthy. Today, I’m not struggling to breathe.

Today…I’m alive. And that’s a gift.

When my 17 y/o step-son became a quadriplegic in 1999 (he died in 2005) as the result of a car accident, I learned first-hand the advantage of not taking the little things for granted. Matt used to tell me he had dreams about running…about simply walking. It fucking broke my heart. In fact, it still is hard to talk about.

So when I see myself spiraling into self-pity, I remember Matt. I remember the things he yearned for that I took for granted. I miss him so much.

Today, I’ll remember to be thankful for the little things.