Skip to main content

Bloggy Blog #82

Well shit, Martha. I didn't expect this COVID-19 outbreak to be as severe as I thought it would be. But what the hell do I know, I'm not some infectious disease specialist. Here I am already washing my damn hands like sixteen times a day and now I'm being told it's not enough? Well, nobody's saying that per se, but they might as well be. And I'll tell you what, color me surprised that our television celebrity President isn't showing that true leadership we've come to expect from him. Just a short time ago I received a notice from our former President about some of the realities concerning this pandemic that were way better than our esteemed leader blurted out the other night. The nerve of that guy, butting his head in with facts and data. You lost, get over it!

Can we shoot the virus away? I think we can shoot it away. It's an airborne virus, is it not? Covfefe-19 doesn't stand a chance against my trusty vintage war musket. I will dip my bullets in pig's blood if that's what it comes down to. This virus is going down one way or another, Martha. You and the kids will be safe. A man's got to protect his family!

What about simple prayer? Prayer works all of the time, against anything. I've been witness to it. Cancer, addiction, global pandemics, God works in mysterious ways, but he is ready to throw down and kick ass when need be. As for those who died of cancer or catching this Corolla-19 bug, well, maybe they just didn't pray hard enough. Let's all pray together, Martha. Get the kids out of bed for this one.

One thing's for sure with this Coppola-19 virus is that the Fed needs to pump in billions of dollars so my 401K doesn't crumble down the toilet. Martha, this Democrat hoax is really affecting my stocks and investments, and if we lose that then we will most surely have to move out of our gated community. Neither I nor my collection of muskets want that, Martha. For yours and the kid's sake, I hope you don't want that either. You better not.

And if they ever come up with a cure for Cornucopia-19, it had better not be free. My hard tax dollars at work demand cures for infectious disease are placed at some of the most ridiculous price points possible, and hidden behind layers and layers of paperwork and complexities and insurance roadblocks to obtain it. Otherwise, that's socialism!

Martha, please do not fret. I will be fine. What I lack in respiratory health I make up for having the best mind. One of my uncles was a Princeton professor, Martha. Did you know that? The most brilliant brains run in my family. He once told me about this dreaded Copulate-19 virus, years ago. So I knew about it, and just didn't tell anyone. I was very busy, sorry. Anyway Martha, can you please send me some of your delicious baked ziti, along with what looks to be approximately $872.59? There are no more athletic events for a while and I need to, well, reimburse some colleagues. I look forward to your shipment!

Best,
   Abraham

Popular posts from this blog

Bloggy Blog #84

The first time I visited, I had to park across the street in the lot of an abandoned gas station. The lot itself went up a slight hill, and the station's sign would occasionally spin some slow turns whenever the town spirits wanted to have some fun.  She lived in a questionably constructed building on the second floor of this sleepy Revolutionary War town, adjacent to a craft store that was hardly ever open. In the basement sat a four-lane bowling alley and a small bar. It was by appointment only, which really meant the building's landlord had to be there to serve drinks and keep an eye on the action. I didn't get a chance to bowl down there, but seeing the construction of the building, this was probably a good thing. When she moved out of her place, part of the process involved placing a three-foot wide plank over the bowling alley basement stairs, in order to move big furniture out. Needless to say she left the heavy lifting to the moving experts.  The new plac...

Bloggy Blog #17

     From 2001-03, I called the northwest corner of Louisiana my home. My initial foray into the real world was met with a trip halfway across the country - a trip that consisted of a thirty-six hour bus ride (with plenty of transfers in sketchy towns in between) and a friend in Little Rock who took me the rest of the way to the Pelican State. Prior to this, my only moment spent in the state was interviewing for the position. That was early June, where I hopped aboard a couple planes and was whisked away to campus for hours upon hours of interrogation. The interview process wasn't really that bad, but what was bad was my ill-fated idea to take a walk around campus shortly after the interview ended. I was drenched in sweat upon my return, completely oblivious that the humidity there stuck around much longer than it did back in upstate New York. Regardless, I was in love. I was in love with this idea of continuing (starting, maybe?) my life elsewhere. The first few weeks...

Bloggy Blog #19

    I was, to put it mildly, an absolutely disgusting high school cross-country runner. No, disgusting is not slang for good. I mean bad. Real bad. A teammate - who wasn't a very proficient runner himself - often competed in what appeared to be casual street shoes or cross trainers. During some races I finished behind him. This happened for a variety of reasons, none of which have to do with him probably being a better runner than me. The most critical reason why I often found myself in the middle or close to the end of the pack of meet competitors is the fact that at some point during the races, I just stopped caring. I mentally shut down. Gave up. Waved a white flag. Why the hell am I even here? , I'd ask myself. Literally hundreds of runners have passed me already, and I'm barely halfway through. There may have been a race or two where I actually stopped running once we got into the woods and knew there was no chance of anyone seeing me. I'd walk a couple steps,...