The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

I live so far from reality that it’s hard for me to imagine how this Pandemic is going to alter the alignment of the earth on its axis. But I’m not so removed from the daily newsfeeds that I think we will ever return to the way we were. The virus may not beat us, may not kill most of us, may not even be as bad as our worst fears, but it will, like Osama bin Laden and his kamikaze jets crashing into the World Trade Towers, change everything. There will always be a pre-nine eleven. It will be years before we understand what constitutes post-coronavirus.

The President is slowly starting to ‘get it’ in regard to this epidemic. He got the part where the economy is going to tank, that much his inward looking brain could manage. He thinks this thing will be over by Easter, then by summer, certainly by the Republican Convention aka Trump Rally. It doesn’t take a visionary to realize the economy won’t just turn back ON. In this era of globalization the wrecked economies of countries who couldn’t pour a huge % of their GDP’s into saving themselves are going to take a brutal whipping and decades to recover. Vaya con Dios and see you at Easter, if the government’s response is any indication.

They’re on their own. Just like the states here in the Yew Ess Aye. National inventories of medical supplies? Not for the governors who didn’t show enough gratitude for the Presidential favors he’s bestowed. Not for the citizens of their states. Kommisar Kushner declares that the national supplies are national, not meant for individual states. You tell me what national means when most of these states are in lockdown. D.C.? Or maybe for the President and his family? The Republican Senators and Representatives? Maybe to offer to N. Korea and Iran as some sort of bargaining chip?

I’ve never really been a state’s rights kind of guy, but I might be leaning that way these days. If the yahoos in Florida and Kansas want to hold church services, okey dokey. If the congregation in Georgia wants to attend huge funerals, I’ll send flowers. But let’s blockade the South, Mason Dixon on down, toss in Texas. Build a Wall, I say, and put razor wire around Mar-a-Lago. And sure, charge it to the federal government, well worth the cost this time.

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