We’re Down to Our Last Roll – 13

Shelter in place observations. An ongoing chronicle of the plague.

Peak Virus. Today is Peak Virus in California, we are told. Someone with a model has predicted that it will be the worst day, with the infection – or at least the first wave – starting to wane after that. Their model is so precise that they even predict 66 deaths today.

It’s a bit like the solstice. I feel we should celebrate, but of course, we can’t have a party. I only wish I had sparklers.

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Discordant headlines:

Sex Toy Sales Take Off Amid Quarantine

Looming Global Condom Shortage As Manufacturers Shut Down

Looks like it’s you and me again tonight, Rosie….

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Land of Opportunity Congress has passed the Coronavirus Aid Relief and Economic Security Act. The abbreviated form is the CARES Act, showing that congress is more concerned about marketing than governing. But we already knew that.

The act does more for the rich than it does for workers or small businesses, but we already knew that, too. For one thing, it includes a tax break that will give an average $1.7 million to 43,000 taxpayers who all make over a million bucks a year1. Don’t you hate welfare recipients?

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Different Strokes. The Governor of New York has ordered people to wear face masks in public. The police in Maryland have ordered people to wear pants when they go out to bring in their mail.

1 href=”https://www.forbes.com/sites/shaharziv/2020/04/14/why-are-rich-americans-getting-17-million-stimulus-checks/#7fd2d6d1665b”

We’re Down to Our Last Roll – 12

Shelter-in-place observations. An ongoing chronicle of the plague.

An Old Fisherman. I took a long walk down to the harbor this morning. Highway 1 was completely bare of traffic in broad daylight, something I don’t remember having seen before.

On Johnson Pier, I ran into Cary and his dog, Boda. We greeted each other from 6 feet. Cary is an old fisherman who lives on his boat, makes a living working the trawlers that put out from Princeton in the mornings. He has a long beard with little braids in it, which he twirls together. He was blonde, once.

He must have really weird working hours, usually seems to be done for the day if I come around at 9 or 10AM. He hangs around the outside tables next to Princeton Seafood, before the place opens, drinking coffee with a half dozen other guys who look just like him. Cary keeps an ancient Mercedes in the harbor lot, uses it to bring in food. And coffee, sometimes.

I watched as he and Boda climbed up the ramp from the docks to the pier. They both struggled to make the climb, Cary bent over, encouraging the dog. I thought to myself, these two will die within days of one another. Such thoughts are not uncommon, lately.

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Feeling the Heat in Japan. Here, we have a shortage of masks. In Japan, where the government is sending masks to every household, there is a shortage of thermometers. With fevers being checked at home and at work, the manufacturers can’t keep up with demand. There’s a call for any unused thermometers people might have at home. If they don’t work, they probably just need new batteries.

Japan must be a really tough place for foreign workers right now. Most of them have only a rudimentary understanding of the language, can’t follow the news. And Japanese apartments can be tiny. You think you feel isolated?

The NHK news service ran an article about a government outreach for these people. It was a headline piece, illustrated with the following stunningly bad photo. I present it here without crop or edit:

Is this the worst news photograph ever? No heads or faces, we have no idea what they’re doing. But, they do seem to be workers of some kind, foreign or not: they have tool belts and all that. The photo was clearly taken with a cell phone by the story reporter, suggesting that all the photographers in Japan have disappeared, probably plague victims. Are we photographers a high risk group for severe infection, like seniors and people with asthma? Stranger things have happened.

We’re Down to Our Last Roll – 11

Shelter in place observations. An ongoing chronicle of the plague.

Passover. Passover has begun, and for the first time since Raye died four years ago, I did not wonder if anyone would invite me to a seder. Nobody did, of course, but this year it never even crossed my mind. The coronavirus is even less popular than I am.

We are taught that god, pissed off at the Egyptians, sent a plague to slaughter all their first born babies, but that it passed over the Jewish kids. Looks like someone else’s god is running this one.

It’s not the catholic one, though. People are dropping like flies in catholic Italy. The other day the pope came out and suggested that the pandemic is nature’s response to global warming. I will make no attempt to find any logic behind this statement, but I was struck by the fact that he pointed to “nature” rather than “god”. Everyone’s trying to shift the blame.

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Congregation. When I first read that Greg Abbott, the governor of Texas, had asserted that religious services are “essential businesses” under the covid 19 response, my first thought was, well, we have marijuana. And then I thought, rather more self-righteously, that we can get weed delivered, we don’t have to gather in contagious crowds.

Not that weed is the same as religion, to be sure. But, it serves more or less the same purpose.

Anyway, I was wrong about Texas. It turns out that their worship, while essential, must still conform to the broad tenets of our fuzzy national pandemic response. And it turns out that religion is the same as weed, at least in that you can get it delivered.

Gov. Abbott’s order calls for congregants to maintain social distancing during in-person worship. Everyone gets their own pew, staggered seating, please. Where the faithful are numerous, this may require adding shifts. Will the pastor demand more pay? Will the sermons be shorter? Where to spread the choir? How to chew the wafer?

The phrase “in-person” had me asking myself what other kinds of worship might be available. Perhaps the process had been automated, like setting up payments for your car. But, it turns out that absolution is absolutely available online, through church websites and by other means. Not only is social distancing maintained, online worship has the further advantage that each congregant can pray at his or her own pace.

In addition to the many online benedictions there are also drive-through options, where you can repent from the insulated comfort of your own car. You just have to roll down your window to interact with a small loudspeaker (robotically sanitized with fragranced bleach after every worshiper). I imagine the sermons are short to keep the lines down, because congregants are asked to remain one car length apart. Not recommended for Harleys.

Finally, can we even call it a “congregation” any more? In the era of remote worship, wouldn’t “segregation” be a better term?