That co-worker who snacks twelve times a day, crunching softly at the other desk in the doubled-up cubicle.
How bad that merge from six lanes down to two on the freeway is going to be this morning?
How many times will I hear the word “enterprise” in the eleven meetings on my schedule, and how will I avoid laughing out loud in each and every one of them?
The Internet Archive set up a “Free Emergency Library” stocked with crappy digitized versions of random books and backlist authors everywhere are concerned that someone might even find their books in that morass and deprive them of a meager portion of their meager earnings.
Is the next episode of that show going to be any better than the last?
How are the eight million suddenly unemployed people going to eat?
Who do I know who is going to die this week or next?
Is that lady on aisle seven infectious?
Out with all the old concerns, in with the new, but I feel like I’ve already heard all the takes, all the opinions, all the wild-ass guesses, all the well-informed predictions, all the medical advice, all the sober analyses. Social media is even more a wasteland of conformity than ever – on the bright side, I did read that Bernie Sanders once advocated the Wilhelm Reich notion that conformity causes cancer, so now I guess if we all do what we’re supposed to do to avoid the virus … never mind.
If you live in an orgone box you’re already ahead of the curve.
Those of you who went out and “got a life”, how’s that working out for you now? Those of us who never did are having a much easier time of it.
It’s got to be something really strange to make a dent in my attention span these days – and that happened recently when watching Avenue Five on HBO and people began seeing the face of John Paul XXIII in the ring of feces circling the ship, all lit up by lasers.
Live concerts on Instagram from musicians’ living rooms are a new treat.
No doubt more innovations will follow on from all of this but I think we’re all wondering the same thing; where are all the fucking robots when we need them to be doing all the jobs?
Porch theft of packages took on a new light this week when the deliveries were cannabis.
If we were all ants or bees, we would know just what to do. Turns out that being wacky hairless apes living in a fake reality of our own creation has its drawbacks. The things that man creates cause more harm than good unto the earth (says a song by Misty in Roots).
Every time I start to worry about something I have to stop and ask myself, is this worth worrying about? Ever since I came down with stage four cancer the answer has been “no” almost every time.
The fear of death gets boring, I can tell you that much.