I’ll tell you what’s up. April is almost over. Finally. We got a lot of rain in April. What do you expect? It’s April. But regarding the rain, I’m speaking figuratively. COVID-19 has rained on all of us. Are you like me? When you think of COVID-19, the first thing that enters my mind is someone missed two extra points.
Mom used to say that those April showers brought May flowers, although truth be told she hated flowers and wouldn’t allow them in her house. Flowers reminded her of funeral parlors. It might not be logical, but we’re talking my mother here. It’s like when my cousin Ruthie was a kid and she wouldn’t drink grape soda because it reminded her of feet. I guess she thought they were stomping on grapes while making the soda at FRANK’S.
This coronavirus is something, isn’t it? I’m in the high-risk bracket. When you’re in your 80s, you’re in the high-risk bracket for everything, including prickly heat. They tell you to wash your hands frequently for 20 seconds — which I do. I know 20 seconds have gone by because I hum the first chorus of YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT while I’m lathering up.
This frequent hand washing is causing me a bit of a problem. It’s kind of an intimate problem, but I know I can trust you not to tell anyone. See — when I run my hands under water, it makes me need to pee. So — I stop and pee, but now I have to wash my hands all over again. And then I have to pee again. It’s what you might call a vicious cycle. And the whole process is wreaking havoc on my potassium levels. As if that’s not enough of a problem, I’m spending a whole lot of time in the bathroom. So much, in fact, that my wife Fran keeps wondering what’s going on in there.
Can you explain something to me? Gun sales are going through the roof during the pandemic. What’s up with that? You think these people figure they have to be packing to protect their toilet paper?
And there’s something else you can help me understand: those protests. Trump finally issues guidelines on what steps we have to take to end the quarantine. He seems very proud of his guidelines. I like them because I think Fauci and Birx are behind them. So — he announces the guidelines with a lot of fanfare. Next day, he sends out three “LIBERATE” tweets encouraging protests. Suddenly, people show up to protest Trump’s guidelines. It’s like they have a constitutional right to get sick and infect the rest of us. They’re not wearing masks, but they do have their MAGA caps and pro-Trump signs. Don’t they realize they’re protesting Trump’s own guidelines? But Trump supports the protesters, so I guess he’s protesting his own guidelines, too. Didn’t Peter Sellers play in this movie?
Our plans for a Princess cruise have gone out the window. Try getting your money back. The cruise lines have come up with special deals. Princess is offering customers their choice of viruses.
Fran and I are following all the rules to try to stay healthy. We both wear masks. Fran is tired of me yelling, “Hi ho, Silver!” when I put mine on. With everybody wearing masks, it’s tough to tell a hold-up man from a law-abiding citizen. Just last week, I ran into a guy trying his best to stick up a bank without success. The teller just kept complimenting him on his mask and asking him his pin number.
I have to say that I think Fran is getting carried away with the guidelines. She tells me that we have to socially distance during sex. I don’t mind wearing the mask. I think Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman played in that movie.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned during this trying time, it’s that I never knew how much I loved touching my face. I think the thing I miss most. Not seeing my kids or going to ballgames, I miss touching my freakin’ face.
I don’t know about you, but my hair is getting a little shaggy. I miss Lori, my hair stylist. My wife calls me “Fluffy.” I don’t find “Fluffy” an especially complimentary nickname. I could get back at her and call her “Roots,” but I don’t think it’s wise. Fran is already a little testy, as it is, having cooked for 32 consecutive days. How many ways can you prepare meatloaf? But if I complain, I might be wearing the meatloaf. And sex, even at 6 feet apart, is better than no sex at all.
I understand wildlife is beginning to take over the streets. Rats are running New Orleans. At Café Du Monde the other night, one of the rats was heard complaining about the beignets being stale.
In our old neighborhood, we used to see an occasional possum. Possums are shy by nature. You don’t ordinarily run into pushy possums, but right now, all bets are off.
These are strange times. Folks having Zoom sessions with people they don’t even like. Everybody is just craving human companionship. You get 40 minutes on a Zoom session and spend 38 of it trying to figure out why Aunt Anna can’t hear you.
And how the hell did Piers Morgan suddenly become relevant?
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