Trump Takes Charge As U.S. Pandemic Worries Grow
In order to assure my re-election, I am stepping in by myself to save the nation. What the inept and stupid and dumb Congress won’t do, I will do. By Executive Order I am extending unemployment benefits and preventing all evictions until election day, eliminating all payroll taxes, which I will make permanent if I am re-elected, which I will be, thanks to the Russians and misinformation and not allowing any mail-in voting, which is unconstitutional anyway according to my flunkee, er AG , Bill Barr, and hereby I declare illegal by Executive Order. And I am declaring the China-flu a fake flu and a hoax. I am firing the inept Fauci and the pathetic Birx at this very moment. No one in the world has done a better job fighting the fake China-flu than me. Anyone wearing a mask from now on or staying home from school will be arrested.
And while I am at it, by Executive Order I am declaring the Congress a fake congress and am directing them to stay home permanently. We don’t need them anyway, and we do not need the fake press either, which I am, by Executive Order, also declaring unconstitutional and illegal. And , by Executive Order, I direct the Homeland Security Police and Park Police to report to me personally from now on and also by Executive Order, I order all protests about Black Lives to be illegal, and anyone who promotes this hoax will be arrested by Homeland Security. And I and I and I…..Oh yes, I am declaring the election illegal if I lose–but I won’t lose–because by Executive Order, I am postponing the election indefinitely, and I and I and I….Oh yes, I am declaring Obamacare unconstitutional and illegal and I and I….
Hey, do you think he may be going too far?
A Faux News (Serious) Editorial: Apocalyptic Times?
I am sitting at my desk in my home office watching the trees violently thrash this way and that as tropical storm winds gust to over 50 miles an hour in blinding rain.
I learn today in the Washington Post that deaths from Covid-19 have topped 155,000 and are continuing to add about a thousand a day with no end in sight. Known infections from the pandemic now top 4 million though many public health experts believe the number could be as much as 10 times higher. Most experts see these numbers rising in the weeks and months ahead, until we can get a vaccine. But when will that happen? Will it happen? We have never come up with a vaccine to prevent AIDS.
Apocalyptic times?
I also learn today that the more than 30 million people who have lost their jobs and who were receiving an extra $600 a week in unemployment insurance saw their benefit cease yesterday, and Congress appears stuck in an effort to try to keep the money flowing. Republicans and Democrats appear so far apart that there is no certainty that any comprehensive, additional federal support will come out of this. Over 25 percent of the households in the United States missed either a mortgage or rent payment in July—and that is when most struggling households were receiving additional unemployment benefits. More than five million have lost their employer-based health care and now have no health insurance.
It could get worse. The federal halt on evictions also ceased on Monday. It is only a matter of time before hundreds of thousands of people could be thrown out on the street. Yet our ability to deal with homelessness is already inadequate. It is also only a matter of time before the real estate portion of the economy could collapse. When landlords don’t get rent, they can’t pay the banks or mortgage companies for the loans they have taken out. When banks or mortgage companies do not receive payments, they foreclose on properties. When banks or mortgage companies do not receive income, they go under.
And the same could be said of many state and local governments who have lost tax revenues while they have had to add services. Many are laying off workers now because they do not have the funds to pay them, and this includes teachers and other essential workers. Unemployment numbers are likely to rise. Yet there is disagreement between Republican and Democrats about whether bailout money is needed and who should get it.
And all the while our president sits on the sidelines complaining of potential voter fraud and news networks he does not like, and lashing out at people like Doctor Deborah Birx, who have dutifully stood by the president at the risk of their own reputations hoping they could make a difference.
Apocalyptic times?
Perhaps not. Perhaps we will come out of this ok. We will elect Joe Biden, and the Democrats will control both houses of Congress. Responsible legislation will pass. But this is by no means guaranteed; and even if this does happen, huge challenges still remain. The pandemic will not magically go away, and there are no quick fixes to the economy. And the answers are not all that self-evident. For example, we know that getting kids back into the schools is critically important and that virtual learning is not an answer long term. Yet going back into classrooms risks lives of teachers and kids and their families. And what about the colleges and universities that are now trying to re-open in a Covid-world? Does anyone think they can do this without serious outbreaks? Yet the on-campus college experience is so important. Where do you draw the line?
Apocalyptic times?
And what about the vast majority of the country who has not gotten sick? We are the fortunate ones. Yet we are also paying a price. We miss getting together in person with friends and family. We are sick of having to wear a mask when we are out of our home. We want to be with real people—not just Zoom images. We want to go out to eat inside a restaurant, to see a show or a performance, to attend group or club in-person meetings, to go to religious services. We want to go back to the office, to go to work, and to go back to our familiar lifestyles. And so many of us live at home alone. My goodness, how will they get through this? How will all of us get through this? Just think of all the weddings postponed and all the cancellations: the milestone birthday parties, the graduations, the retirement parties, the vacations and trips, the family reunions, the in-person funerals. Lord have mercy, these are the kinds of things that keep us going. When will this nightmare end?
Apocalyptic times?
Well, yes. At least in my experience. My generation has experienced nothing like this. We are living in an historical moment.
But wait! As I look out my window, I am stunned. The rain has ceased. The wind is calm, and a tiny hint of blue is peeking through the clouds. Suddenly a flash of sunlight lights up the drenched tress. The storm has passed.
I think as I conclude this writing: This hideous pandemic, like the storm, will pass. This divided country of ours will come through this. We will become a kinder and gentler nation. The world will make progress. Yes, this is a statement of faith, not fact. But what I do know is this: Only a hour or so ago the sky was almost black, the wind was howling and the rain pounding on my window. There seemed to be no end in sight. Right now the sun is shining brightly.
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Covid Time
So the question of the day is why does everything seem so much harder during the covid pandemic. Take today, for example. Now today was not all that typical since I actually ventured out of our apartment for a change. A typical day for me would mean an early morning walk with Embry to avoid the 95 degree afternoon heat, an hour or so of Dump Trump television (I am limited by Embry to no more than an hour a day of watching MSNBC.) and then working in my office on board stuff, blogging, or cartooning, followed by a happy hour starting at two and ending at six (slight exaggeration), followed by a Blue Apron dinner (prepared by me), PBS news (“balanced, trusted,” a tad boring) and maybe a series like “The Wire” or “A French Village.” There always seems to be at least one Zoom meeting thrown into the day somewhere. So that is basically it. Pretty routine, pretty boring, and for an extrovert like me, somewhat depressing.
But not today. Today was a very big deal because I had an appointment at Kaiser, our health care provider, to pick up rechargable batteries for my hearing aids. But I am getting ahead of myself. The day actually started at six this morning when Embry woke me up and said, “Go for it, get on your computer right now so we can reserve a swimming time five days from now!” I jumped out of bed and charged into my office to log on to my computer while Embry logged onto hers so we could make simultaneous reservations for two slots for lap swimming at the apartment house where we now live, the Kennedy-Warren. “Quick,” she shouted, “there is only one time slot left.”
I was nervous and still groggy from being waked up so abruptly. I was nervous because getting a reservation during Covid-time for the pool is close to impossible. We have been living at the Kennedy-Warren for almost five years during which time I have swum my 30 laps probably 400 times. I have never had to wait for one of the three lanes to open up and most of the time have had the pool to myself. Not now. During Covid-time it seems that everyone in the building (435 units) now wants to swim. You can reserve a spot up to five days in advance except there are never any slots available. I have complained to management that something does not make sense since I never had to wait for a lane before and could swim any time I wanted. Just to prove my point two days ago I set the alarm to wake up at midnight, so at 12:01 AM I could be the first to reserve a spot on the fifth day that would open up at that very minute. Admittedly, I was late. I did not get online until 12:15 AM. All spots were already reserved! Impossible I concluded. Thirty people at the K-W staying up late every night just to reserve a swimming spot as the clock struck twelve midnight. No way.
But today at six in the morning Embry had found an open slot for two swimmers at 2:00 PM on day five. With nervous fingers, I sat at my computer typing in my password. Denied once, denied a second time. Okay, I admit I was a bit nervous. And then a third time. A message came on saying that because of three wrong passwords, I would have to change my password. “Hurry up,” Embry shouted from the other room, “Time is running out. Someone else will beat you to it.”
I quickly came up with another password, typed it in again, only to be informed that the two passwords did not match. Tried it once more. Same result. By this time my fingers were really quivering and my heart beating madly. I tried really carefully and slowly the third time and was sure I typed in the same password each time when the message came on, “You have exceeded the required attempts to reset your password and are hereby denied access to this website.”
So that is how this Covid-time day started.
But the big outing was still on the agenda—getting on the Metro and going to the office of Kaiser Permanente adjacent to Union Station. All I wanted to do was purchase two hearing aid rechargeable Oticon batteries, which it turns out is not possible to do over the internet or in a drug store. But still in Covid-time this was a big deal and an excuse to get out of the apartment and to ride the Metro. In fact during the past four months that we have been under one form or another of covid-19 house arrest, I have not even been on the Metro.
I walked down to the Metro station after Embry and I finished our morning walk in the National Zoo (which reopened last week) and was astonished that at 9:15 I was the only person on the platform. And this was still rush hour! It took almost fifteen minutes for a train to arrive; and when it did there was virtually no one on the train. I got in the third car where there was only one other passenger. I felt completely safe since both of us were wearing masks but still amazed that so few people were using Metro. I did not see more than one or two people riding in the first two cars. Ghost town. Where was everyone?
The situation became even more bizarre when we roared into the Union Station stop to see another empty platform and only a handful of people getting off the train. The situation inside the usually packed Union Station was no different. I counted maybe a dozen people in the long corridor connecting all the gates. On a normal day at this time there would be a thousand people or more. I had planned to have a cup of coffee at my favorite pastry shop, but it was closed. In fact every food establishment in the vast station was closed except McDonalds, which, of course, I would not consider patronizing for a single moment under any circumstances.
So off to Kaiser, about a 15-minute walk through the vacant station, and then through a long, empty corridor connecting to the office building where Kaiser is located. There a nurse stood at the door, fully masked and wearing what looked like a hazmat suit.
“Do you have covid-19?”she asked.
“Nope.”
“Are you seeing a doctor because you think you might have it?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have a cough or sore throat?”
“Nope.”
“Can’t smell anything?”
“Nope.”
“Funny feeling in your toes or fingers?”
“Nope.”
She then took my temperature and said it was ok to enter the building. I thanked her but softly complained that all I wanted to do was buy a couple of hearing aid batteries.
When I arrived at the empty audiologist waiting room, I checked in with the receptionist to let her know I was here to pick up my two rechargeable batteries. After checking me in, she informed me that the audiology technician was not in and would not be in until the afternoon.
“Look,” I said, “She told me to come by and pick up the batteries. She said all I needed to do was to show up. For some reason Kaiser is not able to mail them to me. All I want to do is buy a couple of batteries. Isn’t there someone at Kaiser who can sell me two rechargeable hearing aid batteries?”
“No,” she replied firmly. “You will have to wait until two this afternoon, which is actually the time for your appointment anyway.”
When I protested that I was never given a time for an appointment and that it made no sense to have to wait four hours simply to purchase two hearing aid batteries, she excused herself and returned after talking to the audiologist and said that if I came back around eleven-fifteen—only an hour and a half later, the technician might be back, and I could buy the batteries.
Dejected, I retraced my steps back to the food station area of Union Station, muttering under my breath that this is ridiculous. Since I had not eaten breakfast, I figured this would be a good way to pass the time. Then I realized that all the food shops were closed except for McDonald’s. Me, eat at McDonalds? Well, given the alternative of not having any breakfast, it did not seem like such a bad idea. Actually, the Egg McMuffins are not all that bad, and there was no line. I got my Egg McMuffin and decaf coffee almost immediately, perhaps the fastest time ever.
So where to eat it? I looked around. The tables at McDonalds were stacked up and cordoned off with a sign saying something like “no eating allowed.” Just behind me, however, was one of at least a dozen enormous empty waiting rooms for train arrivals and departures. There were several hundred seats and only two people seated, both wearing masks and at least a hundred feet from me. I sat down and took a big bite out of the Egg McMuffin, an action which is impossible wearing a mask. So naturally I had taken off my mask off. Just before the second bite, I felt a tap on the shoulder and a person wearing a Union Station uniform reminding me, “masks required, masks at all times. No exceptions.”
“Oh, I understand that, but how can I eat with a mask on?”
She replied, “You can eat outside the station.”
The walk from where I was to the entrance to Union Station was at least 10 minutes. The place is enormous. A suggestion dead on arrival.
She then departed and I sat back down in my seat, ready for the second bite. The first bite of the McMuffin tasted so good. Her parting words were, “Well, you better be careful not to let a cop catch you.”
I shrugged my shoulders and took the second bite, then looked up and saw two huge, burly, masked men in police uniforms approaching me. I knew I was in trouble. I had been forewarned. All I could think of was whether they would they handcuff me. Would they put me in a paddy wagon? How much jail time would I have to serve? I was caught red handed with no excuses. I would go down as yet another casualty of covid-19. Guilty as charged.
Then miraculously just before they got to where I was seated, they made a sharp right turn and got in the short line at McDonalds, ordered what looked like a couple of Egg McMuffins and coffee, smiled at me, walked over to a row of empty seats, took off their masks, and ate their food and drank their coffee.
The morning ended with my returning to Kaiser, answering the same questions about whether I have covid-19, having my temperature taken again, and finding that the technician had returned. I bought the rechargeable batteries and returned home on yet another almost completely empty train. Welcome to Covid-time! Call the day a success.
But as I tend to complain about the new normal, at the same time I realize just how fortunate I am. Embry and I do not know anyone who has died from this dread disease or has been hospitalized. We do not have to worry about losing our jobs because we don’t have jobs. Our children and grandchildren are weathering the storm pretty well. We have stuff to keep us busy and have been able to travel to see family. We were even able to do a week of cruising on the Chesapeake on our sailboat. We have no right to complain. We are the lucky ones.
I think of the first responders, the medical personnel, and the essential workers who are on the front lines risking their lives every day. I think about those who have lost their jobs or are furloughed. I think about people who do not have the ability to social distance and live in crowded apartments. I thinks of all the students of all ages having to adjust to “virtual learning.” I think about people living from paycheck to paycheck and fearful of missing rent or mortgage payments. I think of old folks like me but who are not in good health and are confined to nursing homes or assisted living. I think of the 150,000 people in our country who have died and their families and the more than four million who have been infected.
While the new normal, Covid-time, is an inconvenience and annoyance to people like me, it is life and death to others. If anything good comes out of this horrid pandemic, it will be that we develop a sensitivity to those less fortunate, do something to level the playing field, and become a kinder and gentler nation and a better world.
