I don’t have any funny jokes because I am not that funny, though I’ll admit the new news cracks me up. The circular thinking and reasoning on the mask issue is just insane. You literally went from them telling you only the sick should wear them to everyone should wear one, not to protect you from other people but to protect other people from yourself. Only in America would people gulp that up as some kind of elixir of truth and never question the mental gymnastics it took to even make those statements.

So, I am alone. but now a bunch of you are right there with me. I have seen 1 person I know aside from Don in 6 weeks as well as a girl who likes my dog. Aside from that, nobody calls me, nobody does any of the stuff you guys all seem to be scrambling to do. I am literally alone and if I did die, I would do that alone and my poor dog would be stuck with a dead body. But I would escape the embarrassment and complicated planning of any kind of funeral service, though I probably won’t be droned into a volcano like I want, at least there would be no service. For some reason nobody being at a service for me is great as long as the coronavirus is to blame.

Whatever, this shit is like any other big burden of shit we get handed. I am REALLY used to getting shit on by people, by my body, by whatever which is why I have never claimed to be suffering from PTSD or any other myriad of illnesses which could be pinned on something outside myself. I am actually getting kind of resentful with the anticipation a lot of people are going to be using that label for themselves because–shit happens to people. Shit happens to a lot of people. Most of the time, shit happens and we figure out what to do, and we do it. I feel that giving my discontent a label like that is just releasing myself from the responsibility to fix myself, and though I certainly am far from perfect, I do try.

So…I watched a video today about a guy and the Spanish flu. It is a terrible copy, but he said people did not come out again in groups until about 1922 and remember it was a 1918 flu. So I feel 2023 is my next golden year, though many might have different opinions, we might have to make that our new wedding date sometime then.

I bought another website drunk the other day. This one is a play on words to stay home forever but I will show it later. Nothing there yet but I am working on it. I also own the plural for our new band, you know, just in case we are overcome with some great musical talent. I told Don he should be happy my drunk purchases are like $20-$50 at a time and I do it once every few months, but lately clearly the theme is entertain yourself and others.

I am fine, you are fine, right now we are all fine and hopefully still alive. Be safe and wear your damn masks, people.