The Talking Dog

March 15, 2020, A Journal of the Plague Year

I could also call this "Beware the Ides of March." As I sit here in New York at the moment, the third Covid-19 related death among over 700 cases in the state. Barely 72 hours ago, Familia Talking Dog returned from Spain, where coronavirus cases shot up in the four day period we visited, and now include 288 deaths and over 7,000 confirmed positive cases now. The Loquacious Pup was doing a semester abroad there (and in Paris-- that ain't happening), and so, instead...

To be honest, we were scheduled to return today, and then we changed it to yesterday, but only the President's insane incompetence in announcing a blanket travel ban that included American citizens spurred us into leaving immediately (at some expense). And we took the Pup with us. And so we're home.

We were waved through customs with only a cursory inquiry about visiting Italy (which we didn't, of course). And so, we weren't told to, but we will "self-isolate" to the extent possible for 14 days-- at least keeping our "social distance" (and working from home).

The Clown Prince in the White House continues to pretend everything is normal, including never-ending psychotic press conferences intended to drive up the stock market.

We have come to the nightmare that our entire press corps (and of course the GOP Establishment) just found hilarious: a genuine crisis and an inept, self-serving clown at the helm-- and the fuckers are going to do it to us AGAIN. But it's FUNNY, right? The, ahem, President, IS ENTERTAINING, right? And Hillary was so... cackly... and so... BORING.

Sitting in my self-imposed make-shift quarantine WITHOUT SPORTS TO WATCH, I just shake my head. It will take a miracle for this not to end in an unbelievable number of casualties.


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