Author: BC

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner was a groundbreaking film of the mid-60s. Although dated now, at the time it was a provocative look at race in America with a cast of Hollywood A-listers. The plot centers on a beautiful daughter of wealthy “liberal” parents – played by Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn – who falls in love with a black man, John Prentice. No doubt the producers only had Sydney Poitier in mind to play the movie’s pivotal role, and he was superb. Times being what they were, no story arc was going to fly on Main Street that didn’t have John Prentice as the Jackie Robinson of future son-in-laws. A chunk of White America may have been prepared to consider interracial marriage, but it wasn’t going to accept a beautiful white woman shocking her folks with a black construction worker. No, he had to be special. So John Prentice was a doctor, and not just some general practitioner, but a director of tropical diseases for the World Health Organization. Now those are bona fides nobody could question.

It’s a tall task to find responsible people with honor and good faith to denounce the World Health Organization (WHO). Founded by the United Nations on April 7, 1948, WHO has been primarily responsible for everything from dramatic improvements of third world sanitary conditions to coordination of global outreach for training doctors to the eradication of smallpox in 1980. WHO deals with critical emergencies on a global scale and, of course, is not perfect. Yet and still, its good faith has always been a given. To find fault with it past trial and error associated with human and bureaucratic limitations requires an agenda with purposes other than constructive criticism. In other words, the only type Donald Trump and his GOP ever pursues.

The 2016 Republican presidential primary was perhaps the ugliest in modern US history, which is to say it was a red flag for how low the party was prepared to descend to make sure its Fox/AM base felt “heard”. It became a game of chicken as to just how personal and malicious candidates could become; in other words, it was no contest at all. Trump was a Grendel among salamanders, a carp among minnows. His sophomoric nicknames set the parameters, and the Jeb Bushes – he of the $100 million war chest – flushed red and slinked off into cowardice’s irrelevancy. The bully quickly seized everybody’s lunch money and the rest is history. Had somebody had the testicles to walk across the stage and punch old sunken eyes in the kisser, we may be thinking about going to the beach right now, instead of rightly detesting those willing to do it anyway.

Senator Marco Rubio, or “lil Marco” as Trump tagged him, was never going to be the one to do it. Any misguided hope he would vanished as Rubio flattered the Donald by imitating him. Whatever momentary advantage Rubio felt he secured by implying Trump’s “tiny hands” meant other physical shortcomings, evaporated as Trump did what he always does, effortlessly played the victim, with attack dog Sean Hannity wailing how “inappropriate” and “childish” Rubio had become. Stricken, Rubio abased himself on CNN, apologizing for being unfair to poor Donald, assuring the audience “ that’s not who I am.” That was that. The next thing anybody knew, Trump and his wretched core were slithering to daylight and the nomination.

Now, more than three years later, Rubio has nestled quietly into the GOP fold, acting as a criminal accessory when he thinks a credible niche has been found, and he can impress donors by overtly licking Trump’s shoes without bending over too far. Dissing China when Trump requires a news cycle filled with the Peking boogie man has become a bit of a Rubio forte. Works perfectly for him; he often doesn’t even have to mention the President while doing his bidding. More importantly, if an “historic trade deal” is in the works, Rubio knows how to disappear, along with the previous grievances he shrilly trumpeted when Trump needed him to. All forgotten…. until they are required again.

And so it was no surprise several weeks ago, just after Trump and the GOP decided the pasta that stuck best on the wall for shifting blame from his grotesque mishandling of the Covid-19 crisis was to bash China and smear WHO as its willful puppet, Rubio called for the resignation of the organization’s leader, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus for “subservience” to Peking. Righteously whiny as usual, Rubio acknowledged WHO “serves an important purpose…. but unfortunately has been politicized.”

Trump then announced suspension of US financial support of WHO, proclaiming “they really blew it on China.” The storyline established, Rubio has since led the GOP drumbeat in the Senate to paint WHO as a once effective organization China has “infiltrated” and brought to heel for its own desires. One struggles to imagine what that looks like during the chaos of a global pandemic that China locked its country down and ruined its economy to address. But no matter, this is their story and, as has been true since this Presidency began, facts are now fungible, employed with nefarious purpose.

That the WHO has, since its inception, enjoyed generous financial sponsorship from the US – an enduring example of bipartisan American altruism – hardly matters to toadies like Rubio. It seems they fear Trumpist tweet storms more than the fires of hell their relentless amorality uniquely qualifies them for. One thing is clear, halting US financial support carries dire implications for WHO. From the start of 2018 through 2019 the US contributed $893 million to buttress the organization, compared to China’s $86 million of support.

Of course, it’s doubtful Trump has given much thought to the devastating consequences suspending that level of funding will have, but nobody anywhere is going to hold it against WHO for accepting help from whoever offers it, except the Republican Party. MAGA jackals like Rubio and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, who is working overtime to estrange the US from virtually every alliance and global responsibility the Administration inherited, are intent to do Scar’s bidding.

China’s recent pledge of $30 million in WHO support was quickly repackaged by Republicans as just more proof of how it has Tedros by the short hairs. Speaking to Fox News, quickly becoming the only network our snowflake chief diplomat now deigns to take questions from, Pompeo ratcheted up the scapegoating of Tedros, sniveling that any future US financial support of WHO may require his resignation and a Trump-approved replacement. Did someone say “politicize”?!

The mission statement of MAGA has morphed during the Trump presidency. He was ushered in as an empath for the bottomless grievance and resentment Fox/AM incubated and his wretched core of followers defined their interests by.
The awesome White House bully pulpit, exponentially amplified and distorted by Fox/AM, has metastasized Trumpism into a classic totalitarian movement. Now his chaotic personal whims define his followers’ aspirations; they want nothing more than what he decides he wants, and that is now usually to vilify an enemy of his choosing as part of one cover up of his incompetent corruption after another, an endless hunt for scapegoats.

This month’s target is history’s most respected global health organization. Previously it was foreign service professionals with spotless records. Prior to that it was a former FBI Director and a genuine war hero. Before him it was another FBI Director and his staff. The list goes on and on; it will continue to grow until we say enough…. or a two-bit apprentice Stalin finally decides what the absolute power he needs truly requires, and figures out how to bring the awesome resources at his disposal to bear in achieving it. That specter moves continuously closer every moment he is tolerated. The relentlessness of ruin. BC

In the summer of 1976, a couple months before my 16th birthday, a brand new Roy Rogers opened its doors in our area. My friend Tim, who in addition to being one of our school’s leading marijuana peddlers, had a natural leadership air about him, quickly secured one of the coveted minimum wage jobs. When it opened, I remember walking through the line to get lunch and being green with envy as my buddy dropped the fries at his station. I wanted a real job! Cutting lawns had grown old long ago, and besides, there were a host of Churchill High’s prettiest Tim now counted as coworkers. My hormones wanted to be a part of all that! Finally, like Tim, I had a bit of a pot business myself and needed to launder the proceeds. My mother was already suspicious about my burgeoning album collection and the new stereo I purchased to play them on. Legitimate employment had become a must!

Unfortunately, when Roy’s was staffing up in early summer I had yet to turn 16, which disqualified me from consideration. Indeed, Maryland law made clear anyone under 16 carried a host of liabilities employers were not interested in dealing with. Until my birthday it would be the indignity of lawn mowing and babysitting my little brother, a task my parents were delighted to keep in-house. As luck would have it, another friend of mine had secured a job washing dishes at a restaurant called Emerson’s. Welcoming the prospect of having a familiar face to work with, he talked to the manager, who assured him as soon as I was legal a position would be waiting… lucky me!

Emerson’s Steakhouse found success by pioneering the all-you-can-eat salad bar. That’s right, what is now standard fare in 1976 was revolutionary, and quite popular. Long waits for seating on weekends was the rule, as patrons lined up to fill their refrigerated plates with roughage and all the fixings. Where Roy Rogers seemed idyllic, sort of an extension home economics class, Emerson’s was the real deal, and I quickly found out washing dishes wasn’t dropping in and salting up fries; this was hard work. Moreover, it took but an hour or so for me to understand what rung of the kitchen’s food chain I occupied, only the rodents that revealed themselves after hours were lower.

Initially, though, the gig really wasn’t so bad. In fact, the several times I worked with my buddy it was downright enjoyable. In between waves of bus tubs we would ogle the gorgeous waitresses, most in their twenties and wholly uninterested in us past getting them some clean flatware on the fly. The operation was set up to be manned by three people. One emptied the tubs and scraped leftover food off the plates. The second placed the dishes, glasses etc on racks and sent them through the “Hobart” conveyor-like machine for washing. Last, the third man removed the clean, still hot items from the rack and stacked them back at the various kitchen stations.

A full team of three could handle any rush with fairly effortless efficiency, and more importantly close everything up after hours so we could clock out by 11:00 pm even on a Saturday. However, as I was soon to learn, three guys showing up, or even being scheduled, was a rarity. After only a few shifts I would discover just how high the turnover rate was for a job like dishwashing, and toil through the consequences.

By the second month my friend had left, securing a cushy job at a furniture store as a stock boy. Worse, it was becoming clear, only moronic high schoolers like me and felons transitioning back into society constituted the dishwasher applicant pool. Mind you, I had no problem working with felons; it was they who had trouble showing up! By my third month it was the norm for me to struggle alone throughout busy weekend shifts, doing the work of three as bus tubs became stacked on the floor awaiting my frantic attention. But it wasn’t serving hours that I minded, it was the long hours after things had closed, when I was alone and couldn’t leave until every dish was done and the disgusting floor mats were sprayed down. One Saturday shift I didn’t clock out until 3:30 AM, a stinking and exhausted mess.

And so it was I showed up for work at 5:00PM on what promised to be another very busy Saturday night. Suffice it to say my patience and good faith as an Emerson’s employee was nearing its limits. The novelty of a real job long expired, even lawn mowing had regained lost luster. As I entered the kitchen I was disheartened to see nobody else on the schedule to help me, another very long night awaited.

But it wasn’t until I saw my work station that what would evolve into a signature temper began to boil. Apparently, management had hosted a private gathering that afternoon of way too many. Every bus tub in the establishment was filled and taunting me as I put on my apron. I stared in disbelief, realizing virtually every dish, glass and fork in the Emerson’s inventory was caked in residue. An entire shift of work needed to be finished before the night even began. Clarity seized me as never before, rebellion consuming my being. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go…. “ the assistant manager I already disdained ordered indelicately. Whoever was present certainly still remembers my reply as I stormed for the exit, keeping their apron, perhaps to burn later. I’ll admit here I cried driving home, my anger matched by my feeling of shame for quitting so unceremoniously my first real job.

These recollections flowed fresh this morning as I read in the Washington Post about the travails of Mikaela Sakal, a young Detroit ER nurse. She is a hero who now will spend a long time traumatized by her recent experiences in the ER of Sinai-Grace Hospital. Pushed to the breaking point, she quit because continuing felt implausible and torturous. From fully committed and determined to do her best under the most difficult circumstances she could find, to angry and defeated for no better reason than the catch-22 situation she found herself in only promised insurmountable disillusion, making a light at the end of the tunnel impossible to even imagine. Covid-19 hell.

Sakal, fresh out of school and looking for the toughest challenge available, thought Sinai-Grace in the heart of Detroit ideal for her ambition to test herself under the most demanding circumstances. “This place will make you a great nurse,” she was promised. However, when Covid-19 detonated in Detroit, Sinai-Grace was quickly overwhelmed. In the ER a sensible ratio of nurse to patients is 1 to 4; 1-8 is considered the outer rim where quality of care becomes dangerously jeopardized. Sakal and her shift partners were constantly at 1-15! Seven or eight nurses staffing an ER with scores of critically ill patients, people dying, whose names they didn’t know. Resources exhausted and new incomings constantly on the way. Staff that were finishing a 12-hour shift unable to leave because to do so would put their relief in an untenable situation. “You’re lucky if you find time in a 12-hour shift to get a glass of water. You spend every minute moving from patient to patient trying to keep them stable and alive.” Imagine a place where the only noise is the constant sound of alarms going off as life-sustaining medication pumps demand to be refilled.

The breaking point for Sakal came when a colleague had to leave the ER to help transfer a patient to the ICU and she was alone with 26 critical patients. Sakal said she and her fellow nurses told management time and again they needed help, “this wasn’t ok.” She acknowledged some efforts were made to bring in more nurses but the numbers actually went backward. “We went from having 14 nurses on at night to sometimes having 10 or less,” said Sakal. Finally, because they felt only if they left would the situation no longer be ignored, she and two other night shift ER nurses, including the shift supervisor, quit.

It’s impossible to imagine the torment Sakal must feel right now. That one so talented and dedicated should be forced into such a situation lays bare the myth of American healthcare superiority, while confirming how totally unprepared it was for this pandemic. That a multitude of idiotic MAGA wretches in Michigan and beyond would zealously protest, shoulder-to-shoulder, for the “freedom” to exponentially increase the carnage this wonderful woman has been overwhelmed by confirms the life support status of America’s civic sensibilities. And last and most disturbingly, that a President we elected is permitted to traitorously encourage such madness, as nothing more than a function of his psychotic insecurity and perpetual vileness, pinpoints an existential threat to the nation’s survival. It must be confronted by any means necessary….. yesterday! Dammit, stand by her side! BC

When my wife and I first moved into our house back in 1999, one of the things I wanted to do was cut the lawn. This was the height of irony since my father and I carried on a years-long war of attrition revolving around my myriad of strategies to avoid that exact activity. Once my dad quipped to my mom: “if that kid put the effort into just doing what I ask him to do that he puts into trying to get out of it, we’d be on the cover of Home and Garden.” Ah, childhood memories.

Anyway, the movers hadn’t been gone long when I hustled out to procure a 6.5 HP Briggs and Stratton workhorse, ideal for manicuring my estate. Mind you, simply cutting the grass was not enough in those heady days of home ownership. We were fortunate to buy a house on a hill, and I wanted that sloping front lawn to have symmetry. Instead of taking the easy route and cutting across the incline, I would trudge straight up and then sidle straight down, taking care not to slip and chop my size 15s down to size. There was nothing like the satisfaction of gazing at those perfect lines of pristine greenness, the honest sweat sopping my torso. I remember distinctly during one of those moments wondering how a man could forsake such pleasure for a lawn service! My dad, as usual, had been right all along as he ordered me to do his bidding. This would never get old…. Hah!!

About a decade and 40 pounds later, not to mention a back with nothing but harsh and painful indignity to offer, I looked enviously toward my neighbor Tom’s place as an impressively efficient team of landscape specialists descended on his property. It was going to be another July 100-degree steam bath in the Nation’s Capital and my 1/4-odd acreage approached overgrown calamity. Still, the idea of attempting to tackle the beast only reinforced a desire to nap before dinner. As Tom walked to retrieve his mail, it was as if an angel of mercy was guiding me:

“Those guys look like they do a great job,” I offered.

“Yea, I love Nestor. He’s the best…. and the price is right.”

No turning back now… “Do you think he’d like some more business?” I asked with a hint of desperate hopefulness.

“I’m sure he would. Go ask him.”

And so it came to pass that the lawn mower I had grown to despise slinked into the ash bin of history, a dusty relic in the corner of my garage’s clutter. From that hellishly oppressive summer evening, when he gave my overgrown mess the Tom treatment, Nestor has never failed to show up and perform his magic, leaving it to my guilt, rather than his request, to increase the amount on the checks I hand over.

Two weeks ago, just as I was thinking I better give him a call, Nestor and crew breezed in and had me looking like Augusta before my second cup of coffee was done. I walked out to give him his check, a cost-of-living increase included, and he approached to within about ten feet and gave me his usual broad smile, although his eyes seemed a bit sad. We said our hellos and I joked how much it irked me he never seemed to lose any hair or gain any weight. He laughed and asked if “we should do the usual schedule?” It seemed odd because he had never brought that up before; I quickly surmised other customers must be cutting things back on him. His eyes now appeared to me hopeful. I said sure, same schedule, and laid the check on the hood of our Subaru.

The designation of “hero” has been stretched way past the tipping point necessary to threaten its entire relevance for a long time now. After 9/11, as America prepped for ceaseless occupation, heroes began to pop up everywhere. Of course, those at ground zero digging feverishly – with many getting chronically ill in the process – deserved exactly that level of respect and adulation. Moreover, it was an appropriate time to appreciate the sacrifices of all in uniform, who could at anytime pay the big tab just as so many NYC fire fighters did after the Twin Towers exploded.

However, in the months and years that followed, as Madison Avenue seized heroism as a fixture for ad campaigns, and jets flew over countless football pregame ceremonies punctuated with gigantic American flags, the precise characteristics that define the term became way too ambiguous, applied with carelessness and, much worse, ulterior motivation. Those who, say ten years ago, worried about stolen valor fanatics crucifying an intellectually disabled man for pretending to be a veteran, or real shysters cashing in with cons centered on some affiliation with a uniform, realized all of their worst fears this February when Trump had his wife clasp the Medal of Freedom around Rush Limbaugh’s scruff. Nothing, anywhere or anytime, could be a more powerful exhibit A for the highjacking of selfless devotion and its place within our national discussion. Perhaps the most significant nadir of a disgraceful reign filled with shameful quantities of them.

Now we endure a crisis that renders 9/11’s death toll modest by comparison, and have been afforded a fresh opportunity to revisit the subject of recognizing who are rising to the top based on splendid behavior during trial and tribulation. After that State of the Union disgrace, such a forum is overdue, a scarce silver lining in Covid-19’s otherwise bleak horizon. Rather than pointless ceremony, or referendums on what is and isn’t patriotism, this crisis effortlessly distinguishes the chaff from the grain.

Surprise! Turns out they’re everywhere, friends and neighbors simply doing their jobs, many for far less than they deserve. When I went to pick up a prescription my eyes misted as I expressed my appreciation to our pharmacist, Amy. She is a lovely woman, and has always been the consummate professional, but now, during this crisis, speaking louder than her usual soft cadence in order to be heard through her mask, she sure seems heroic to me

Ditto John Carter, a 71 year old retired Milwaukee bus driver, who waited three hours to vote last Tuesday to give the boot to right wing Wisconsin State Supreme Court Justice Daniel Kelly. Forced to risk his life by Kelly’s fellow travelers on the US Supreme Court, whose best justification for refusing to extend by a measly week the deadline for absentee ballots during a global pandemic, was their reticence to tinker with well worn “voting procedures and practices,” Carter said he was shocked when he first saw the line, but resolved “I have to vote…I must stay here.” Carter said he wanted to send a message to Republicans they can’t bully him. Kelly was defeated handily by liberal Democrat Jill Karofsky. Message sent.

Our universe operates on the basis of opposite forces – energy and inertia, high and low pressure, mountains and seas – so it makes sense that carnage created by the most shameless and vile among us, should be met by the most selfless and honorable. The day that stops happening is when we are done. Nestor, Amy and John are who hope looks like, even as we get daily “briefings” from one who oozes wretched disgrace.

Trump’s preposterous relevance has always owed to the awful fact he has no floor for abasement, no bottom when his conscience screams enough. Pushing forward to do his worst just comes natural. And so we see his opposite numbers doing the same in addressing the consequences he loses no sleep producing. America is great because of them; his worst won’t change that. Thankfully, it will only help us better appreciate how important they have always been to what we now may very well lose. Stand by their side! BC

“The process of election affords a moral certainty, that the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications. Talents for low intrigue, and the little arts of popularity, may alone suffice to elevate a man to the first honors in a single State; but it will require other talents, and a different kind of merit, to establish him in the esteem and confidence of the whole Union…..”

Alexander Hamilton…. Federalist Papers – No. 68

In the modern communication age, which began in earnest with a radio in near every US domicile, the most basic responsibility of Presidents we elect has been to inform us from the vast platform their office provides when significant tides of our nation’s fortune shift. Starting with FDR’s “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” pronouncement, American voters have taken for granted when a President takes to the national airwaves we should stop what we’re doing and pay attention, and what he’s telling us is truth that the seriousness of current events has elevated above partisan packaging.

When JFK reported on the presence of missiles in Cuba, only certifiables were questioning his veracity or motivation. In fact, until now, it was a very safe bet that, if you asked the question “if the vast majority of the country can no longer believe what a POTUS has to tell them during a national crisis, should he be replaced…,” an overwhelming percentage wouldn’t hesitate to answer yes. Indeed, even a cursory glance at the fall of the only President who actually did resign his office, promotes the conclusion it was precisely the realization he could no longer credibly lead America in crisis that most influenced Richard Nixon’s calculus and prompted him to finally abandon ship.

That was then, this is now. Our current equation flips it all upside down… only the wretched core now receives our President’s daily gibberish as anything but designed to further rabidly immediate processing of what his political and personal fortunes require. A referendum on who the nation believes is coming soon; Trump will see to that. Even as Covid-19 deaths reach new highs near daily, and states like Florida and Texas are bracing for the worst, the Trump Administration, with little to nothing in the way of details, is making clear May 1 is long enough for flattening the curve…. data be damned.

The Civil War produced roughly 660,000 American deaths. It’s doubtful most understand that near 2/3 of those fatalities were caused by infectious diseases such as typhoid, dysentery, pneumonia and malaria. In 2016 our divided republic elected a President with no greater desire than to increase the estrangement. He has succeeded and we are now in a state of cold civil war, unable to abide each other’s most basic sensibilities. At the heart of it is who to believe, or more to the point, who not to believe. Covid-19 now provides the means for us to face off diametrically opposed as to how we proceed, with one side putting its faith in a narrative always at odds with fact, the other preferring the cumulative expertise MAGA has never had any use for.

Nobody has chronicled the slide from decency of the Republican Party more diligently than Dana Milbank of the Washington Post. Since the Tea Party began its metamorphosis into the totalitarian mob it has become, Milbank has documented and accurately assessed each malevolent stage. Nothing has garnered more of his attention than the party’s efforts to addle the Federal Government, constantly repeating Fox/AM bromides about its repressive uselessness. Yesterday, he finished a ruinous maxim long-time strangle-the-government fool Grover Norquist started. Norquist once quipped he’d prefer to see federal programs shrunk to the point he could “drag what’s left to drown in a bathtub.” Marking what any sober analyst understands was the fully preventable milestone of our 20,000th Covid-19 death, Milbank sadly observed the obvious… “When you drown government in a bathtub, people die.”

Social distancing is working where rigorously applied and followed – read states with governors not affixed to MAGA idiocy. Washington and California are flattening the curve despite being initial incubators of the virus. New York is holding its own and may have seen the worst of this wave. Maryland Republican Governor Larry Hogan set the right example from the outset, aggressively closing down his state to all but essential services. DC Mayor Mariel Bowser and Virginia Governor Ralph Northam followed suit and the DC-metro region may well dodge a bullet.

Kentucky voters had the good sense to send repulsive Trumpie Matt Blevin packing last November, many lives will surely be saved as a result. Democrat Andy Beshear declared an emergency March 6, then didn’t hesitate to close schools, restaurants and bars, making clear the crisis required the state to shut things down. Next door in Tennessee, MAGA-dependent Bill Lee was enjoying dinner out until just before April, when he finally suggested perhaps Covid-19 may be a bit more serious than the flu. Tennessee now has near three times the confirmed cases Kentucky reports. DeSantis in Florida, Kemp in Georgia, Abbot in Texas, Reeves in Mississippi, Ivey in Alabama, etc. etc. The list is as long as it is despicable. Trump flunkies are fatal to public health, no less than the President they owe their viability to. The numbers won’t lie, even if Fox/AM and their creation certainly do.

Nobody believes America can stay inside until a vaccine comes to the rescue. Perhaps the most important policy in US history will be what balances our vigilance to keep Covid-19 at bay with restarting the economy. Who can we count on to develop the protocols necessary to recirculate those who have survived the virus with those yet to be infected, and those more likely to suffer its worst? Tragically, this Administration offers zero basis for confidence it will do anything but demand we again ignore Covid-19’s dangers and get back to work. Testing protocols? Certification of those who have been infected? Aggressive procurement and deployment of antibody testing? Protecting target groups most vulnerable to the virus’ worst? Clearly, Trump and his lackeys have given no thought or preparation to what restarting will look like. Worse, they are fully prepared to move forward unprepared. Only the wretched core views that as acceptable.

This crisis clarifies how long it takes to ruin the Federal Government as a vehicle to competently intervene during national crisis – just a bit more than three years, given a President embodying “the talents for low intrigue” Hamilton warned of. Nobody excels at that pursuit like Trump. Moving forward, the new federalism foisted on us is simply this: responsible Governors of good faith and honor are going to be forced to ignore Trump’s edict, coming way too soon with no basis other than his rabid discretion. If it’s May 1st, that will be just about the time both Florida and Texas hospitals will be overwhelmed with death. If he surprises us with patience to wait another two weeks, that will be in time to match surging fatality rates in flyover states, as their decision makers’ ugly bows to MAGA political expedience exact too many pounds of suffering.

In other words, we are on our own, and the vacuum seditious Presidential indifference and laziness creates is not only dangerous to our health, but very bad for business as well. Expect whoever leads your state to either ruin you by mindlessly following MAGA nihilism, or try desperately to save you by cobbling together state and local coalitions, collaborating with an aim to find some workable balance without resources or guidance, simply doing the best they can. Either way, we aren’t the United States right now, nor will be until we again “elevate a man” with “the merit…. to establish him with the esteem and confidence of the whole union.” We failed miserably in 2016, another debacle like that is not an option. BC

To work for Donald Trump one has to assiduously attend to two competing primary guidelines. The first is to never outshine the boss on a public stage. Competence is far less important to the President than who is receiving credit for it. Anthony Fauci, for example, first brought to Coronavirus press conferences to address questions Trump and his other minions had no idea how to answer, quickly got on the President’s last nerve simply for his effortless display of expertise.

Due to the dearth of anything but inane and inappropriate Trump homage anywhere else on the Pence task force, Fauci’s authoritative cadence made him a star. Trump is too lazy to learn any minimum necessary for the relevance required to be more than an emcee of his public dog and pony shows, but that doesn’t stop him from rapidly resenting those relied on to carry his water when he senses them eclipsing his bloated shadow. Do your job, but not well enough in the public eye to escape the taint of your slobbering servitude to me! Rule number one.

The second rule of the Trumpist lackeyhood is one must be ready to fully abase themselves and destroy any or all of the credibility they have amassed in support of any senseless whim the boss may exhibit, or even be expected to unleash. Nicki Haley, perhaps the GOP’s brightest future star, learned this in a hurry as she rushed headlong into declaring sanctions against Russia that Putin put the kabosh on during a personal call that immediately had our asset-in-chief turning tail and pulling the rug out from under his U.N. Ambassador. Haley was forced to eat crow and talk gibberish through a humiliating weekend of Sunday news shows. Of course, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo has perfected this shameless backtracking by simply starting fights with questioners, an approach Trump appreciates and rewards. Always be willing to look stupid and powerless when countermanded without notice. Better yet, learn to anticipate it! Rule number two.

In line with these ruinous metrics, Trump appeared to have a real keeper in acting Navy Secretary Thomas Modly. Surely the President was initially delighted by every facet of Modly’s approach to blackballing Captain Brett Crozier for the actions he took after hundreds of his crew on the USS Theodore Roosevelt tested positive for Covid-19 following an R&R stop in Vietnam. The gratuitous venom Modly displayed in surplus for an officer, whose crew turned out en masse to shower with extended and riotous applause as he disembarked after his command was terminated by the SecNav, is just what Trump likes to see his eunuchs dole out to “rats” who risk public exposure of his realm’s incompetence. Modly seemed that rare MAGA breed with the instincts to “feel” just how ugly his master’s inclinations are, while at the same time jumping at the chance to disgrace himself carrying out such loathsome measures.

The story being pieced together tells of Covid-19 rampaging through the aircraft carrier’s tightly packed crew, its captain at odds with his superiors over how to proceed, and all the while top brass insisting everything was under control. Sound familiar? Crozier wanted the carrier taken off line to segment the crew and treat those with symptoms. Once the crew was quarantined and recovered, the mission could continue… sensible from any view. Rear Admiral Stuart Baker and US Pacific Fleet Commander John Aquilino thought the outbreak could be handled aboard the vessel while it continued its mission. Of course, Crozier was at the helm of the carrier and was seeing the exponential math multiplying by the hour. Without adequate testing or protocols to employ, he simply couldn’t see how that was possible.

To hear Modly sneer it, Crozier’s grievous sin was “going outside the chain of command” with a March 30 email sent to between 20-30 recipients, many on the captain’s own staff. The “blast-out email,” as Modly labeled it, recommended 90 percent of the crew be tested and quarantined and the ship be disinfected. After all, Crozier noted, the carrier was not engaged in hostilities, crew members “do not need to die.”

What’s now clear is the content of the communication wasn’t the issue; the fact it leaked the next day and was published by the San Francisco Chronicle was what got Modly thinking WWTD (What Would Trump Do). Even though top Pentagon brass were making clear they “didn’t want to shoot the messenger,” the SecNav figured he’d show the type of initiative that earns Trump twitter props, take the scapegoat by the gruff! Rather than respect the chain of command and even wait for Crozier’s immediate superiors to weigh in, Modly pulled the trigger. Secretary of Defense Mark Esper and Mark Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff really had little choice but to get behind the move. Another good man, performing his job in good faith, tarnished by MAGA dreck.

Asked about the decision to relieve Crozier of command, Trump did what he always does, lie and abase. Even though the stop in Vietnam was a Pentagon priority to celebrate 25 years of good relations, Trump implied it was Crozier’s bad judgment to do so. Next, he characterized “a 5-page letter” that “was all over the place…. totally inappropriate.” Two days later, the President doubled down, amping up the insults and making clear he backed the decision.

Yet, incredibly, Modly felt the need to stomp on Crozier’s reputation some more Monday, when he addressed the stunned crew of the Roosevelt. Laced with profanity, his diatribe denounced Crozier’s email as “a betrayal” and indicative of one either “… too naive or too stupid to be the commanding officer of a ship like this.” The speech didn’t stop with just libelous character assassination of a decorated officer, it also checked off other MAGA boxes. Modly worked up a lather railing against media “agendas,” and took a swipe at Joe Biden’s defense of Crozier, amplifying his attacks against the ship’s popular skipper (“what your captain did was very, very wrong.”) The tone and content of the whole thing made clear the speechless crew was not who Modly was actually speaking to…. that guy was on a couch in the East Wing sipping a Diet Coke and retweeting Candace Owen’s epiphany about running for office!

At press time a sliver of sunshine seems available as the blowback of Modly’s gratuitous outrages consumes him. More than a quarter million signatures support a petition condemning him and calling for Crozier’s reinstatement as captain of the Roosevelt. No doubt Modly was informed by top Navy brass that his idiocy destroyed the authority of his office and support for his position no longer existed. But what about support from the one whose sensibilities he was certain the whole enterprise reflected? Yea, sure thing.

His resignation submitted, the now ex acting Secretary of the Navy has learned another, perhaps even more fundamental, rule Scar imparts to the hyenas seeking benefit from his rabid whim. Everybody is expendable without second thought. His sights now focused squarely on siphoning enough Coronavirus stimulus cash to keep his businesses from going belly up and laying bare the myth of his vast wealth and business acumen, Trump no longer sees any upside to Modly’s initiative. In fact, the President now appears ready to offer Crozier mercy from on high, declaring his career should not suffer for “a bad day.” Here’s hoping Crozier tells the CINC he’d do not a thing different if given another opportunity. And Modly? He’s learned the hard way Trump never says thank you. He wishes you luck and forgets your name. Just another acting somebody gone from a valley of nobodies. Good Riddance! BC

When it comes to national leadership in times of crisis, few are easier to please than the American public. When scared enough we become very tolerant and willing to grade on a curve, simple as that. After 9/11, even as it was quickly becoming clear he had ignored full throated warnings, and appeared as a deer in the headlights when informed of the second attack on the Twin Towers, W went to the smoldering scene of the crime, grabbed a bullhorn, and was at 80+ percent approval ratings before you could say “we’re going to put a boot up their ass!”

FDR was America’s first disabled President. His intimates feared constantly during the transition leading into his first term that the increasing numbers of destitute citizens would hold his condition against him and begin to lose confidence from the get-go as unemployment figures surged. They needn’t have worried. His “fireside chats” became essential listening. The calm reassurance he offered was enough to rally, if not optimism, at least hope that better days would at some point become visible, and more immediately, that the banking industry would not fail. Voters showed their appreciation every fourth November for the next twelve years.

The power we turn over to those we elect President is immense, and the public is never more willing to permit its deployment than during national emergencies. All we expect is to be kept informed about how it is being dispensed on our behalf, how it is bringing to bear the collective resources required to solve the issue at hand. Wide latitude is provided so long as we are confident White House good faith is available in generous supply, with unity and teamwork embraced as dominant themes. Until very recently that has never been a problem. Now it’s an existential crisis. Even so, many remain willing to provide plenty of slack, even if it kills them….. or at least their neighbors.

It is no mystery why so many are sleepless and disconcerted these days. Sure, there is a dangerous contagion on the loose, unpredictable and fully resistant to cure or even treatment for those unfortunate enough to suffer its worst. Moreover, the economy offers nothing now but debilitating uncertainty and looming hardship. Yet and still, were we all certain our President was appreciative of how enormous his responsibilities have become, and how dependent he is on the best efforts and cooperation of the apparatus he heads, our plight would feel less dire. Alas, if only that was all we weren’t getting. 

When Trump mused over the weekend he was considering the titanic step of ordering New York, New Jersey and parts of Connecticut quarantined, the subtext wasn’t hard to decipher: I have the power to do this and I will if it suits me; your opinion is neither requested nor appreciated. The same Trump “weighing” whether to essentially impose a state of siege on the nation’s most critical metro area, was less than a week ago holding forth on his vision of overflow churches on Easter, something every epidemiologist agreed would lead to thousands of unnecessary deaths. A sudden epiphany? Of course not. Merely our President tormenting another nemesis who “has never treated me fairly” – in this case Governor Andrew Cuomo – because he can.

It has always been a good idea when assessing Presidential candidates to ask oneself what the world would be like if this person could do anything they wanted, impose their will on the rest of us without modification. Regarding Trump the answer to such a hypothetical was always frightening. Now, within the bowels of perhaps the gravest American crisis since the Civil War, the reality, playing out at roughly 5:00 PM each afternoon grows increasingly unfathomable. It is as bad as it gets, but we can bet with confidence it will get worse still. Nothing should surprise, but it still shocks the senses, and only adds a new layer of worry to our quilt of concerns.

It’s more than noteworthy the White House’s statement outlining how Trump has “Mobilized the Full Resources of the Federal Government to Respond to the Coronavirus” spends more time on steps designed to subsidize both small and large businesses, not to mention predictable tangents like filling the Strategic Petroleum Reserve, with far less in the way of stabilizing the nation’s hospital infrastructure.

The March 13 announcement addresses Covid-19 testing, really the lynchpin to any successful strategy for mitigating short-term loss of life or long-term plans for reviving economic activity. Lots of verbiage about “cutting red tape” and of course “public and private sector partnerships,” but little in the way of details. Two million kits are on the way we are assured, the implication being without Trump’s bold anti-regulation efforts or unique entreaties to fellow business titans, such a promise would not be possible.

Yesterday, 17 days later, Governors Larry Hogan, a Republican from Maryland, and Democrat Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan – deemed “half” Whitmer by L’Enfant Terrible last week for having the temerity to question both his performance and veracity – issued about as pure a bipartisan statement as current times allow, detailing where their states are and what they now need. First and foremost on their minds is testing. Near three weeks after Trump pledged two million test kits, Hogan and Whitmer were clear:

“There simply aren’t enough test kits, medical supplies and other lifesaving equipment to meet the scope of this pandemic…. the federal government must take extraordinary steps to deliver what we need.”

As always, Trump meets such desperate pleas with his unique brand of crisis leadership, expounding on the popularity of his press briefings, which include cameos by top MAGA contributors like “the pillow guy” – who called on Americans to use their time at home as good patriots should and pay homage to grand leader as the second coming – and of course attacking Joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi. It’s likely pleas for federal help on testing will fall on worse than deaf ears, they will be met with efforts to sabotage the mission.

From the start Trump has equated the number of Covid-19 positives with political liability. Anyone who thinks that calculus has changed isn’t merely inattentive, they are purposely obtuse. More than a month into this crisis, getting a test remains a privilege for the wealthy and connected or the dreadfully sick, when it’s merely a pro forma ritual. Were all states to possess ample testing resources, those yet to be hit full force could develop procedures to make certain the numbers don’t reach the tipping point necessary for exponential growth.

Moreover, sufficient testing is essential to discredit MAGA drivel this is MSM hysteria, which continuing mega church attendance and the reopening of Liberty University, not to mention Florida beaches not yet closed by Trumpie Governor Ron DeSantis, makes clear the wretched core still embraces. None of that is attractive to Trump, who has always viewed accurate information as the enemy of his various schemes, kryptonite to his always false claims. This situation is no different. He’d much rather grudgingly accept epidemiological forecasts with a wink wink nudge nudge to his MAGA faithful. Leave plenty of room for Hannity and Dobbs to redefine things. Keep his options open and the nation hostage to his ever devolving whims.

As to whether the US public’s well documented patience has been exhausted by previously unthinkable Presidential sociopathy, displayed daily in ever increasing doses; there is little to inspire confidence in our current national composition. Tragically, the numbers only confirm how divided we have become, and how slavish Trump’s core supporters, now the full GOP rank and file, are. Fox/AM is responsible for the Trump Presidency and in our darkest hour cultivates support for however horrific his daily 5:00 PM national embarrassment becomes. There isn’t another news provider whose listeners grant the President even a 30% approval rating for his Covid-19 stewardship. Almost two-thirds of Fox viewers think he’s been doing swell. Anybody who doubts the GOP has been consumed by MAGA need only consider 90 + percent of Republicans see leadership in insulting reporters, using ventilators to settle petty political scores and making clear the buck stops anywhere but here.

In the throes of an open ended challenge that will shake this country to its core, we are separated as we were before it, divided into two camps. One now demands more than the less than minimum it’s been receiving. The other is willing to bet their lives on whatever their champion comes up with at any particular moment. Fill the churches for Easter one day, lockdown a major portion of the East Coast another. How he uses the awesome power his office provides is of little concern to them, only that he stays in office to continue wielding it. Like the cultists they are, Trump’s wretched core believes, as they have all along, now is the time for them to support him, not the other way around. Circle the wagons.

Most recently there have been what within our current national surreality pass for hopeful indications. Trump seems to ever so slowly be glimpsing the enormity of what we face. The language he held to yesterday should have been the sentiments he was expressing two months ago, even as he jabbed at the usual suspects. But who knows? How can we trust him for sustained reasonableness? Welcome clarity today may be fully disavowed tomorrow, such is the leadership chaos we suffer at his hands. The chickens of normalizing his Presidency now roost with all of us. His wretched core continues to digest and even celebrate his disassociation as “Trump being Trump.” The rest of us are forced, from our living rooms – while we wonder if that stray cough or itch in our throat is the start of our personal reckoning – to curse him and those whose still enthusiastic acceptance of the worst faith ever to guide Presidential crisis management will survive until they literally go into the dirt. The calamity of ruin. BC

When I was a kid in Evanston, Illinois, I loved to play hockey. Nothing made me happier on cold winter days than going to the “lagoon” several blocks from my house and playing pick up games until dark. By the time I was ten I was set to graduate to organized leagues, with practices and games played at Northwestern University’s rink a couple of miles from my home, and far further afield were one fortunate enough to be chosen to the travel team.

Now, my mother had delivered my brother Alex not two years before, and had yet to learn how to drive. It being the Mad Men 60s and Evanston being a classic midwestern small town, such a deficit had yet to seem like a big deal to me. It soon would. My father was a young hot shot Chicago lawyer, who had to “work late” often enough for me to notice my mom’s aggravation when the predictable late afternoon phone call came to again inform her she would be alone with three small children that evening.

I tried out for the house league, which I don’t believe cut anybody, and was satisfied that I was in the upper tier of talent. I wound up on a team anchored by a kid named Johnny O’Brien, generally considered one of if not the best player for his age in the general vicinity. When we broke into our teams to meet our coaches etc., I was flattered the young prodigy seemed to recognize me as his line mate and sort of number two on our squad. Still, I had one serious concern I couldn’t share with anybody because I was ashamed and thought revealing it would open me to ridicule; I had no idea what this thing offsides was! To this day I can’t say why I kept it such a personal secret to suffer senselessly from, but I did.

The rule that an offensive player cannot precede the puck across the opponent’s blue line is, of course, foundational to organized hockey. All strategy and orientation takes place with this restriction in mind. To not understand it makes one unable to participate with any sense of focus, only confused reaction. And so it was my first practice I lurched around, unable to hit my stride, and admonished several times by the coach for either being out of position or violating the fundamental I did not understand. Why he didn’t comprehend my ignorance that night and explain things to me, I cannot say. He waited until the next practice to do so, but by then it would be too late, the damage done.

But for all the confusion and frustration I felt during that initial practice session, it was what occurred after that stays with me to this day. Since Northwestern’s rink was too far to walk, and my mom could not drive me, I was required to take the bus. Again, just as I had digested my mother’s lack of a driver’s license to that point, catching the bus did not initially seem like such a big deal. That changed as I watched every one of my fellow players get escorted to their cars by hockey moms of the day. Suddenly, now I had two things to be ashamed of, only this indignity now dwarfed the other. I cut a solitary and pathetic figure as I trudged alone in the bitter cold toward the bus stop, watching the brake lights of Johnny O’Brien’s family station wagon disappear. No doubt any of the mothers would have been glad to give me a lift. Asking was unthinkable! It was the first time I can remember feeling sorry for myself. It was also the first and very few times I resented my mother.

As it happened, tryouts for the far more prestigious travel team were being held that Saturday in neighboring Northbrook at 0-dark-thirty… some things have always been thus. I had secured my father’s pledge to drive me a couple of weeks before, but he had yet to arrive home as I finally fell asleep that Friday night. How many late nights were actually devoted to work versus downtown Chicago watering holes is a question I never demanded my father answer, mainly because I already knew the answer.

Even so, that Saturday sunrise I felt like I was heading toward my execution. It was one thing to be clueless on a house team; this was the elite, the cream of the crop. How could Johnny O’Brien respect me as a teammate when he found out my ugly secret, which I was certain would spill out for all to see? As we silently drove toward Northbrook, my groggy dad still in his pajama top, my anxiety mounted. I desperately wanted to ask him to explain the rule, but just couldn’t make myself do it!

By the time we arrived I was frozen with doubt. When my father asked what was wrong, I blurted out the whole thing was a mistake and I wanted to go home. My dad seemed more incredulous than empathetic or concerned. He impatiently asked me why. I lied and said I didn’t think I was good enough, and besides, it would take away from basketball at the Y. Of course, not so deep down, I hoped he would be unconvinced by my excuses and gently but firmly nudge me out of the car toward my reckoning. He didn’t. When we arrived back home, my mother asked what had happened. “Ask your son,” my father said as he headed back to bed. I yelled I didn’t want to talk about it and closed my own bedroom door. … and for many years after I didn’t.

These specific vivid memories were foremost in my mind in late 1998 as my wife, Sue, and I discussed family planning. My daughter, Isabelle, was born that January, and after overcoming the initial trepidations of fatherhood, I genuinely felt I was hitting my stride. Things were good. With the Rolls Royce of downtown DC daycares permitting Sue the ability to work while visiting Iz just two blocks away whenever she pleased, we had settled into a very comfortable routine. Two incomes meant financial security, but more importantly to me, it was clear this status quo would fully permit me, like my father before, to compartmentalize parenting. Sue loved every minute with our daughter and seemed to have no real issue with me seeking distance when I needed it. Golf, beers with buddies, ponies and working out… it seemed I could have it all, just like pre-child.

Yet and still, even while luxuriating with the cake I could have and eat too, when my wife directly asked me whether I really wanted the daughter I now treasured to be an only child, the answer was natural. Of course not. My girl would not be alone and ashamed to lack what all of her peers would take for granted! Moreover, she’d always have a ride home from practice by parents, and a brother or sister, there to cheer her on! Whatever accommodations needed to be made for my narcissism would be dealt with on an as needed basis. I could do this for my Issie!

In March of 2000 my son, Luke, was born. About three years later he was diagnosed with pervasive autism, instantly shattering whatever selfish preoccupations I hoped to protect, and finally forcing me into real manhood. My daughter grew up with all the struggles, and self-imposed shames a sibling of a special needs child confronts. As her parents have been forced to divide and conquer responsibilities simply to cope, my wonderful Iz has many times felt solitary and detached from her peers, alone in circumstances they can’t relate to. She has time and again trudged alone to that bus stop.

Now I shelter in place with my wife and the one who changed everything, making me a man of worth and my life a rewarding struggle instead of a predictable dalliance. One by one Sue and I have been gutted as we try yet again to explain why another thing he so relies on has been taken away by “the virus”. Disappointing him has always been painful, never so excruciating as now. Both of us are fearful we could suffer the worst of Covid 19 and leave him at the mercy of this world. Isabelle would then be most all he would have to protect him She knows this and seems resolute as she sits tight hundreds of miles away.

We all have reached together the crossroads of national crisis. Each and every one of us has a tale like mine to tell, pivotal events of our lives that now define us and will prove invaluable during this part of our journey, even as days begin to string together and the dull ache of depression and hopelessness begins to pulse. It’s in us all and will get us through this; we simply need to hold it close. It’s called our humanity. Never forsake it or we are lost. BC

Keeping our mortality in its proper perspective is a uniquely human preoccupation; at least I suppose it is. To date, say, a lion’s views on dying remain a mystery. I work on the assumption they haven’t given it near the amount of consideration I have. It’s doubtful we give the subject more thought than during national crises, when the routines we depend on to distract us from such morbidity are temporarily unavailable. Of course, now we are instructed to do more than merely forsake routine, we are told to literally turn inward, to essentially hibernate for a while, for the sake of ourselves and, more importantly, the most vulnerable among us. It is an acid test of our civic demeanor. Many are failing.

“We are looking at a new war no one has seen before,” New York Governor Andrew Cuomo warned Monday. “We have never fought a virus like this with this potential consequence.” On the other coast however, despite both multiplying cases and increasing numbers of death, California GOP Congressman Devin Nunes was all about, er, reassurance. “It’s a great time to go out to a local restaurant,” advised Nunes, directly contradicting the assessments of every responsible health professional. “Let’s not hurt the working people in this country…. go to your local pub.”

It’s a certainty, when we are finally out of the woods with this pandemic, and assuming we are still an ongoing democratic concern, Hollywood will run with the events we are now living. Surely, as is most always the case, writers, directors and various A lot “suits” will be predisposed to embellishing the truth to accentuate drama. They needn’t worry here. The good guys are clearly delineated, the bad guys even more so. Whoever plays Devin Nunes will have to take a lot of showers. Trump’s portrayer may require post-production therapy. As an annoying pest with a taste for the obvious once remarked… “you can’t make this stuff up.”

The Mike Pence Coronavirus response team, whose daily findings and recommendations are emceed – not to mention frequently contradicted – by the President, never seem to offer much more than hype and redundancy. Shout outs to “private industry partners” are frequent, but Anthony Fauci pounds away on the desperate race to “flatten the curve” of the disease’s spread. The clock is ticking.

Perhaps that’s for Trump and his wretched core’s benefit, a continuing effort to counter what they digest from all of their favorite Fox/AM “personalities.” Until earlier this week, most all of the usual suspects continued to ply the virus-as-hoax/political attack feces their loyal listeners will surely refuse to let go of until the bodies start piling up. For his part, Trump has grudgingly embraced the basic facts of the pandemic. Yet and still, one senses his cultists believe it’s a wink wink, nudge nudge situation. Hey, he’s just giving the swamp what it demands, read between the lines. Let’s go have some beers, pandemic my ass.

It should be clear to anyone paying attention to facts they aren’t keen to reframe in support of a Hannity narrative, this pandemic is going to dramatically alter the face of this land. Epidemiologists seem to concur we are going to be forced to confront a choice straight out of Faust. On the one hand we can adopt a prolonged “shelter-in-place” mentality that will reduce the carnage and protect our healthcare resources from being overwhelmed but ruin the economy. Or we can dispense sooner with social distancing and see if we can live with death like we’ve never seen before, fatalities measured in the hundreds of thousands. Any hope this condition is tamer than advertised has been extinguished by testimonials of “healthy” patients sent to ERs by near fatal complications.

To be clear the beginning has just arrived, but already ominous indicators are coming out of New York and Washington state, with patient numbers matching near to the number with Italy’s disastrous track. Cuomo, whose leadership is a reassuring contrast to the President’s indifferent counter- productivity, is doing all the right things while running out of time. He knows he’ll need more space and facilities, more people, more… everything. His pleadings to the White House for resources have fallen on worse than deaf ears, they’ve met up with Trump’s petty vindictiveness. Get your own ventilators, L’Enfant Terrible bellowed on a conference call with Governors, which he later tweeted was great with the exception of Cuomo, who “needs to do more.” Never bet he can’t go lower.

Meanwhile, according to Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin, the nation, “except millionaires” is about to get Christmas for Easter. Checks up to a cool grand are about to be cut. Even though work missed has yet to exceed a significant snow event, looming economic hardship is already tangible. It appears Mnuchin and his jefe want to get the loose details out of the way before focusing on some serious corporate welfare down the line.

Pay offs are a specific strength in Trump’s skill set, and he seems enthused to start dolling out the goodies… times being what they are. Airlines, cruise ships, the restaurant and hospitality industries – no doubt energy interests are right now deciding how big a bucket to bring – the line is forming, like a Costco with freshly stocked toilet paper shelves. However far $1000 is going to go for now unemployed people already living hand to mouth, most unable to afford a sudden $400 expense in the best of times, you better believe Trump will remind them from here to eternity how lucky they were to receive his largesse. But at the end of the day the same boardroom folks who Trump maxed out the deficit platinum card for two years ago are who will feel the true healing balm of Coronavirus relief. Count on it.

In the meantime we are still a divided nation precisely when we can least afford it. Apparently, in flyover country, plenty MAGA faithful are not about to fall for this one, abandoning Fox as it relents to what passes for reason in its studios, to OAN where conspiracies about the virus as Fauci plot to destroy Trump’s economic miracle are rife. “The lord is my vaccine,” they are declaring as they wait for a table in Kansas. Worse, coddled kids will not be denied their party time. With neither Governor Ron DeSantis in Florida, or Gregg Abbot in Texas willing to do their jobs, instead ceding responsibility to local mayors and city councils, beaches have been slow to close, providing critical days of skin to skin bashes. Much good social distancing sacrifice is sure to be undone as the partiers disperse nationwide. Instead of back to school, they will return home to middle aged parents. How many will enforce rigorous quarantine measures? Clown Question.

In New Orleans, where critical cases are beginning to surge right on cue several weeks after Fat Tuesday, pulmonologists have never seen anything like this condition. The devastating speed it inflames the lungs, and the restrictions it places on oxygen intake, bring to their minds victims of toxic gas inhalation. Worse, the comfort that good health and relative youth protects from the condition’s full wrath is fraying as 40 somethings with no preconditions struggle for breath. Those in the most acute stages of Corona’s wrath require ventilators to hold on. With the patient surge just starting, they are already in short supply.

Denial is a powerful outlook. Right now it is held close by millions, stunned by events fundamentally reshaping their nation. Blaming media desires for drama, or lib agendas to bring down Trump, surely will not withstand the images we are all about to see out of virus hotspots, even if the POTUS refuses to accept truth on the ground. The profound danger added to our worry about surging fatalities is a certainty many will digest tragedy as a basis to scapegoat who they are told to blame, and lash out instead of reconciling with reality. Ominously, Trump is already encouraging such impulses with nobody of national stature stepping up to confront him on it. It’s very hard to feel reassured when your President is disintegrating into a hateful mass of lies and recriminations right before your eyes.

So where can we take heart? What can we bank on to provide hope this to will pass? Two weeks ago could anyone have imagined no NCAA tournament? Or NBA or NHL? Masters? Kentucky Derby? Wholesale school closures? The most radical transformation of American life and routine in generations took place with a few fistfights over hand sanitizer. People standing to lose millions did the right thing at first asking. That’s better than a poke in the eye.

Consider that in 1918 the flu pandemic hit in three waves just as a disastrous world war was winding down. What they had to deal with it was far less than what we are blessed with. Yet the world survived to nearly consume itself yet again two decades later. There are far graver sacrifices asked than staying at home and fretting about untimely death. Nobody ever promised us our lives would be free of collective fear and suffering. I told my daughter, sheltering in place in San Francisco, to embrace the moment as history, a tale to tell from the rocker.,So should we all. BC

By:David E. Whiteis

To the Trump voters, a little something I wrote.

A tale of perfect storm of calamity:

Aww, politics is stupid. None of that matters. Hey Trump is running for president, wouldn’t that be funny if he won. Anybody is better than Obama or Hillary!

Ha, that is so hilarious, he did it! We did it! Lol, he is going to drive those libtards crazy!

Man, that stock market is rocking it! I knew that whole climate change thing was all UN bullshit. Cleeeaan coal! Frack it up…. my kids don’t drink groundwater anyway. Nothing but eco-whiners!

Elections bore the hell out of me. It’s all the same swamp! At least Trump isn’t taking a paycheck!

Well, I’m not getting too many hours at the shop lately, they said it is something about Chinese tariffs, but it will pick back up. But it does suck that going to part-time status at work made me lose my health insurance. What are you going to do? At least we aren’t disrespected anymore!

Another record day on Wall Street! My brother in law says he’s going to buy a house in Hawaii! And Trump says he’s got some kind of tax break on the way, but I haven’t seen any of it. He’s the best though! Says everything I’m thinking, without worrying about the PC police. Love him!

Look, I’m not a big fan of the tweets; Sure, sometimes he sounds like an idiot talking by the helicopter. But the reporters love it and are just trying to trap him into saying something stupid. I won’t even watch it anymore. Fake news!

That is some wild shit going on in China. But it’s probably overblown to help the Dems. Trump said it is going to go away in a few days; he’s on it.

*********** The Trump administration fritters away precious days that other countries were using to make preparations. The virus spreads silently in Italy, Spain… and the US.

That science stuff is just crap. I’d rather be back on the assembly line, I want to earn enough so I can mod my truck so it can “roll coal”, that cracks me up. But I gotta go now, I need to take my cousin to her chemo appointment. Let’s hope this round is covered, she’s too sick to work for Medicaid coverage

It looks like many other countries got their coronavirus testing going a while ago, but we still don’t have it happening here. My sister has a bad cough and needs a test, but they didn’t have one available at first, and now it is taking forever for the results. I told you, the federal government sucks…. just like Mark Levin says!

Yeah, Trump kind of blew it on that testing thing, mostly because he always thinks he is right. But he usually IS right. It is the Mexican immigrants that are messing up our country. He stopped the flights from China, didn’t he!

Wow, the number of cases is doubling every day or two. I wish my 401(k) looked like that “confirmed cases” graph! How could it lose 3 years of gains so fast?!

What do you mean? He has great insurance, Grandpa worked for that union for 40 years, his insurance should take care of him. How can they not have a bed? They say his case is not that bad, and he should just stay home unless it gets worse.

I don’t care what the damn fake new media say, I’m going to church and then we’re going out to Denny’s with theguys from the Boston office, we’ve been planning this for weeks.

That scum payroll guy at work said my going bowling was actually going to be helping kill people in nursing homes, what the f**k does that even mean? I ain’t giving up bowling or my line dancing anyways, for some stupid lib fake flu thing. Rush says it’s nothing but a cold!

Grandpa’s in the hospital, but they have him still in the hallway, he has been there for 5 hours, they don’t have a room for him. They say the virus was spreading for weeks, but the US did almost no testing because the Trump Administration said it was all bullshit, and then blew it when they first started ordering tests.

Yeah, he’s been there three days, and he isn’t allowed any visitors, so he has to just lie there in the hallway. I think he is pretty lonely and scared.

The funeral is tomorrow, but we are not allowed to go.

Aunt Susan has a bad cough now. And I’m not feeling that well myself, but you know me, I never even get colds. I’m going to stop by Joe’s bar, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.

I don’t think I can make it in to work today.

I understand, I feel the same way, it is hard. Just drive over with a couple of cans of soup or something if you feel up to it, I don’t have anything left in the house, and I don’t think I can get out of bed.

Man my chest hurts.

Cough.

[a motionless figure in a silent bedroom]

POSTSCRIPT:

————–

Do you know which cities in Italy are as large as New York or L.A.? Trick question, nothing is even close.

“But,” you say, “China has cities much bigger than New York, and they are pulling out of it now” you say…

Do you think Americans will do voluntarily what China forced its cities to do by martial law? Starting two days ago? Because that is what it would take, to avoid what is coming.

————–

Stay home. If one member of your family gets sick, keep the whole household home for two weeks. Wash your hands. Prepare for the long haul, it is going to take months. Look out for your neighbors. 

Next election, let the adults vote. You can just stay home.

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Read and understand both of these web sites, all the way through:

Flatten the Curve

https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2020/world/corona-simulator/

– David E. Whiteis, 3-17-2020

By all accounts there wasn’t much that frightened Earnest Hemingway. From the front lines of WWI to the chaotic carnage of the Spanish Civil War, and all manner of exploration, fearless was not a misplaced adjective as applied to the literary legend’s disposition. However, one scenario did unnerve him throughout life, to the point of self-imposed worry and distraction. Franco fascists “papa” could deal with, but catching the Spanish Flu or its offspring terrified him.

It really gets down to the most basic of human urges, control of our circumstances. Pandemics exert their will and distribute harm to any and all, nobody gets special dispensation. Rich or poor, smart or stupid, anyone dependent on basic socialization is asking for it. Hemingway, who was born to connect the dots and convey stories based on the consequences of humanity’s struggle for purpose, was simply terrified by the randomness of the flu’s trek , and the purposelessness of its damage. Really, who can’t relate to that?

If the normalization of US history’s ugliest public servant has demonstrated anything at all, it’s that Americans are pathologically committed to our routines. Nothing seems powerful enough to deter that obsession. Veterans returning from any war of the 20th and 21st century struggled with hometowns and loved ones utterly the same as when they waved goodbye. Whatever chaos and hell our boys experienced abroad, when they returned nothing had changed. Clubs, weekly meetings, church pancake breakfasts, high school basketball games, one could still set their watch by each of them. The dichotomy between ceaseless repetition and war’s devastating spontaneity was in itself a trigger to many a troubled transition back to civilian life.

After 9/11, the most traumatic event in American post-war annals, the crusade was to get back to our routines. The Towers were still smoldering and Rudy was in his box seats for the World Series. Everywhere the mantra was “don’t let them win, get yourself to a mall!” Sure we were heading off the cliff of endless war and occupation without markers and plenty of unprecedented ugliness, but Saturday soccer mornings would not be denied! In America the occasion, whatever occasion, must go on. That’s all about to change. The critical question that will literally determine the death toll we suffer, is if we’re capable of changing enough.

Our White House resident infant’s constant idiocy aside, this is a genuine, certified, lose-some-serious-sleep crisis. In Italy, a doctor’s desperate Facebook posts have gone viral, and it’s horrific. Wave after wave of hospital admissions, all diagnosed with the exact same thing… bilateral interstitial pneumonia, Coronavirus’ clinical calling card. Dr. Daniele Macchini, who works in the northern city of Bergamo, provided chilling details of overwhelmed resources and exhausted staff in a “war zone” setting. While youth may spare most, the “target group” elderly in northern Italy are surely dying, only to be replaced by a new group of critical patients…. again and again. The country is now locked down and nobody is worrying about canceled weddings. Deadly serious stuff.

Here, our Executive government has utterly failed us. Trump, a soulless child at his core, has publicly demonstrated over and over he is not up to the task of crisis management. When Hitler turned on Stalin and blitzkrieged Russia, the murderous Bolshevik went into denial and hid from view for several days, leaving his entire realm without any leadership at all. Trump has been no different, instead of a Dacha, it’s Mar-A-Lago and the links of Doral, but the denial is the same. Children have trouble with proportion, to Trump three percent is “a real low number.” Dr. Brian Monahan, physician to Congress and the Supreme Court, believes between 70 to 150 million Americans will get Coronavirus, with a one percent fatality rate. That’s 700,000 to 1.5 million dead, uh yea, a real high number! Anybody witnessing our President’s goofball routine at the CDC had to wonder whether any kind of coordinated response is possible.

Thankfully, seemingly overnight, serious adults are acting with the haste required. A plan now seems to be taking shape, as state and local governments rush to fill the void, taking their cues from the best national and international guidance they can determine. In other words, anybody but Mike Pence and Alex Azar!

The emerging strategy is to try and slow the progress of the virus as much as possible in order to stagger the numbers of seriously ill people taxing the medical infrastructure. This can only be achieved by preventing socialization, particularly events with large crowds. March Madness will be spring silence as the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament will be played with only family and essential personnel in attendance. Whether CBS et al will try to drum up hype by filling up sports bars for viewing frenzies, thus sabotaging the whole point of the effort, remains to be seen. The NBA just suspended its season after a player tested positive for the virus. Now, that is messing with routines.

Yet and still, some routines are more valuable to certain groups than others, and without governmental coercion, it becomes like an honor system; some will act responsibly, others won’t. Some officials will be Roy Scheider in Jaws, some will be Amity’s mayor. The stakes now pertaining to those decisions are very high.

In Panama City, Florida they are raking the sand and preparing for the annual spring break invasion of college kids from every corner of the country. Judging from their civic leaders’ public declarations, with the exception of worthless lip service to following hand washing protocols etc., all systems are go. Few aren’t familiar with how that looks. Thousands of near naked young people doing just about everything one could imagine to spread a contagion… beer bong anybody?

After a week of this annual gropefest, they will then disperse back to countless cities and towns to spread whatever they have received. Being young and in good health, most will suffer minimal symptoms while fully transmitting the virus to all they encounter. Whatever good work has been done to counter the disease’s spread will quickly be undone as typhoid frat boys and girls unknowingly convey illness to those they love. Will Panama City Beach reconsider its plans? Will Governor Ron DeSantis, heretofore a mindless Trump lackey, make the call for them? One example out of thousands, one looming disaster out of thousands of other potential calamities. The movie script writes itself!

It’s the height of irony that, at a time we need national unity most, lockstep cooperation and sacrifice of our most precious touchstone, the routines we follow to the letter, we are as divided as can be. Maybe this desperate exercise in collective discipline will bring us back together and prevent countless deaths. I hope I live to see that.

Many of us have felt alone since January of 2017. Now, many more surely feel the same way, and before this is over many others still may suffer such fears. But we are all in this together, and that must be enough to bind us. We can be confident as things worsen this President will lash out for scapegoats and pursue the division he needs for continued relevance. Only if we ignore him and stick to the plan, while supporting each other, can we get back to the precious routines we measure normalcy by. Our greatest challenge. BC