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Sometimes Schulz says it best

It’s 8:33pm, Central Time, Tuesday evening, April 22. I’m sitting in my living room, my dogs laying on the floor nearby, the house mostly quiet (save my son talking to his Xbox in the next room, as he does), thinking about Friday.

Friday is when our idiot Republican governor, no doubt following the lead of the maniac in Washington, D.C. who calls himself President, will begin “opening up” Texas. And I’m wondering what will happen next.

I’m completely convinced in a few weeks there will be a surge of new virus cases and deaths, this time in Red states with Republican governors. Perhaps this will be mitigated somewhat by the fact that the hardest-hit states on the coast have Democratic governors who took firm action and are not easing them too soon or too radically, and the idiocy of the Republicans won’t be as damaging. God watches over children, drunks, and the United States, Bismarck supposedly said, and maybe that will be the case once more. But I don’t think so.

So we’ll have another surge of cases, this time in late May, which will lead to another set of closures, which will last until June or July, which won’t ease until August. Which is what I told my disbelieving daughter the other day, who has tickets to some show in Boston in August. Well, I don’t like it either, my girl, but I don’t control the 33% of the population that seems determined to do whatever idiocy floats through Trumps head at a given moment.

I’m sitting here thinking about my son, who in spite of being on the autism spectrum is doing damn well overall, but is basically terrified to leave the house at all. I explain to him about the risks of taking walks with me (low), or going to the grocery story, or going out on drives, but he doesn’t want to risk it. And really, I don’t blame him.

I think about these utter morons on Twitter who try to make it about “freedom” and the Constitution and their “rights.” How they’re just repeating nonsense they heard from microcephalics like Hannity or Limbaugh or the complete nitwits on Fox & Friends when what their arguments really just boil down to is, “I wanna go to the movies; I wanna go to the gym; I’m tired of staying inside; you can’t make me; you’re not the boss of me; wah wah wah!” That they’ll put others and not just themselves at risk doesn’t matter; that this is a deadly pandemic and not some cooked-up hoax to make their Great Leader look bad doesn’t matter; that their arguments are illogical and stupid doesn’t matter. They want to go outside, Fox News is telling them it’s safe, their Great Leader is demanding it, so out they’ll go!

It never occurs to them that all these people telling them to go out don’t give a damn if they live or die. That the GOP and the various large corporations and big banks and other plutocrats have said, explicitly, over and over, that a 2-3% death rate is a reasonable price to pay to “save the economy”. These Trumpers have no conception¬†they are the blood sacrifice the 1% is demanding so they can remain the 1%. After all, in their mansions, gated communities, and luxury flats, the 1% is safe; it’s the blue-collar folks at the meat-packing plants that will die. But with cold disregard the 1% has convinced the gullible that this will, somehow, “own the libs,” and for them that’s enough. Off with the masks, out into the world, and let’s go to the movies!

Such thoughtlessness was no doubt common in Pompeii as the smoke was rising from the cinder cone on the upper slopes.

I worry about going to the grocery story after Friday, surrounded by these nitwits, these chowderheads, serene in their stupidity. Will they try to squeeze by us cautious, reality-oriented people in the aisles? Will they be there with their masks off, rubbing their eyes and faces, wiping off sweat as they come fresh from the gym? I don’t know, and apparently my idiot Governor doesn’t care.

Sometime in the next 24 hours the number of dead in this country from this calamity will surpass that of all those killed in 20 years in Vietnam, a war that, IMO, broke this country for good. Two months. Not all of it can be laid at the feet of Trump, of course; as much as I despise that prancing, lying, self-aggrandizing, psychopathic fool, he is not solely responsible. But just as Johnson and Nixon bear the brunt of the folly of Vietnam, so does he bear the brunt of these deaths. The blood is on his hands.

I worry for my friends and family all over this country. My mom up in Olympia, near the hot spot of Seattle, her lungs already compromised. My sister down in LA, surrounded by 10 million other folks. My brother and many many friends in the Bay Area. My friend Geoffrey in Georgia, with their own noxious governor. My bff Tim just outside DC. The seemingly-unlimited progeny of F.J., Sr. & Elizabeth Moran all over the Northeast and elsewhere. My beloved Bastian relatives in Colorado and elsewhere. You all know who you are. All in danger, all doing their best during this crazy time. I haven’t gotten in touch with you all; I don’t think I could. But I think of you, all of you, all the time.

That’s what I’m doing right now, here, in my living room, the dogs at my feet, this evening, at 8:58pm, Central Time, Tuesday, April 28. Thinking about you all. And the future. And hoping and yes, even praying (in the very non-orthodox way that I do) that we make it through.

We’ll make it through. We’re a strong, smart, ornery, determined bunch. And we’ll make it through.