Please Stay Home This Holiday Season

I’ve always been meh on Thanksgiving because family, right? But my favorite favorite favorite holiday is Friendsgiving, which happens on the same day. Whether it’s a giant gang of all your friends and their spouses and kids and college roommates and some lonely soul they found at the grocery store or just an intimate get-together in a small dining room, there’s hardly a better day all year long: everyone relaxed and convivial, everyone brought a dish or a treat so there’s lots to taste (and less to cook, yourself, unless you want to), and you just enjoy a bunch of good things and good conversation together in a relaxed, unhurried atmosphere that’s as exciting or mellow as you want it to be. I love it. Some years I’ve loved it a little too much. But I love it.

And I’ll miss it this year, as I’ve missed so much, as we all have because JFC on a pogo stick is shit out of hand right now. But I’m staying home, in my immediate bubble, and I’m asking — begging — you to do the same this Thanksgiving.

It’s like, if it was just me, maybe I’d be more willing to take unnecessary risks. But that’s not how pandemics work. It’s certainly not how Covid works. You get other people sick before you know you’re sick, yourself. Worse, it’s the people you love and are closest to you’re most likely to infect, or who are most likely to infect you. Think how you’d feel if you killed your wife, your husband, your mother or father or best friend or roommate. It’s not a good death, either, fucking intubated and surrounded by medical staff in PPE instead of your loved ones. And that’s if you or they can even get into a hospital. Which, if you get sick this week, is a shaky proposition, at best. They’re pretty well full up, and because of the time delay built into how the virus works, they’re going to be for at least another month, if not more. You could have the best insurance in the world. It won’t matter if there’s no bed for you or doctor to see you.

We’re all tired. We’ve all had to give up a lot. And there’s further, so much further to go. But please, for the sake of yourself and your loved ones, for the sake of the country and all the heroic, exhausted health care staff out there on the front lines, for the sake of us all, please just stay home this holiday season.

If you don’t, not everyone you love will be around for the next one. I’d say that’s worth sacrificing for.

The Reason They Won’t Say When He Last Got Tested

One of many obfuscations President Trump’s doctor has engaged in is refusing to disclose, so far, when Donald Trump’s last negative COVID test was. Now, of course, he won’t say why, but I have a hunch that fits the facts and fits the pattern of the Trump White House’s behavior like a Savile Row suit:

Trump hasn’t been getting tested.

Not regularly, despite the White House line that they test more than anybody. And maybe they do, if you aren’t the President (never mind the fast turnaround tests they use aren’t super-reliable, from what I understand). But Trump himself? I agree with Josh Marshall that they were probably relying on testing everyone around him as a proxy for testing him.

But why not test the President? Why not test Donald Trump?

My guess? It’s the same reason he’s downplayed testing in general. If you don’t test, you don’t know. You can do the Trump thing where you decide what reality is based on what you want and pretend it’s actually so. It’s the same willful ignorance/knee-jerk malevolence that drives everything he does. Only this time it’s come back to bite him in the ass, him and a whole super-spread-alicious chain of Republican movers and shakers.

And hey, you know what? It couldn’t’ve happened to a more deserving bunch of folks. Not only as karmic retribution for what they’ve done to our country, but as just desserts for their own hubris thinking COVID couldn’t touch them. Guess that’s what happens when you get high on your own supply.

It’s Alright to Wish Donald Trump Ill

A lot of people I know are taking the high road with regard to Donald Trump’s Covid infection, and urging others to do the same. As someone who for the most part takes the high road myself, when it’s available, I applaud them, and agree: in general, it’s not good to wish others ill, or wish that someone would die.

(For my own part, I do not wish for Donald Trump to die of Coronavirus. I want him to die many years from now, broke and in prison for his life of crime, so he really has time to kick himself for all his mistakes. Barring that, I prefer he survive at least til November 4th of this year.)

That all said, Donald Trump is the exception that proves the rule. Or maybe the rule’s better understood as a guideline. Whatever. Donald Trump is not only a manifestation of almost everything that is worst in human nature, he has also done untold harm to more people than you or I or all our friends put together could count. He’s an abuser we’ve all been forced into a relationship with, and he’s hurt all of us, without caring or apology. His handling of the pandemic has not only killed two hundred thousand Americans and counting, it’s disrupted the lives, well-being, and livelihood of the whole goddamned country. It’s going to take decades to fix all the damage, if we even can, thanks to the judges that have been confirmed on his watch; either way it’s going to leave scars on our democracy and a lot of us with PTSD just from bearing witness to the whole tragicomic shit-show.

So yeah, it probably is better for your soul or whatever not to wish death or suffering on anyone, no matter how terrible they or the consequences of their freely-taken actions are. But as far as I’m concerned, when it comes to history’s monsters — and Donald Trump is one — you may excuse yourself from that particular aspiration, and wish the man a speedy rendezvous with his just desserts.

Quick! Someone Inject Him With Bleach!

From the Department of Chickens Coming Home to Roost: the President, Donald Trump, has Coronavirus, and the schadenfreude is both sweet and savory.

As for myself, I am torn. On the one hand, it would be sweetest irony for Trump to die of the pandemic he’s so consistently downplayed and handled so terribly, putting his fellow Americans — his own supporters most of all — at risk and wrecking the country and its economy.

On the other hand, I want him to live long enough to lose the election, and for his hundreds of millions in debts to come due, and for all the prosecutions waiting in the wings for when he isn’t President anymore to indict and convict him for all the crimes he’s so blithely committed, so he can spend the last years of his life broke and in prison, as would happen in a just world.

Either how, I suppose irony isn’t completely dead after all.