Lionel Nation

This morning at around 10:30 AM ET my wife and I looked out our window and there was the magnificent USNS Comfort steaming up the Hudson thanks to President Trump and his concerted and dedicated leadership. You heard me. President Trump. Not Cuomo, Pelosi, Rula Lenska. Not Bono, Madonna, Cher (and Cher alike). Nope. President Trump. PRESIDENT TRUMP!

Yet not one mainstream media news outfit — NYC local in particular — covered it. Let me say that again, not one New York mainstream news source covered it. New York as in ground zero (again), the epicenter, the bullseye. The target. The base, the focus. Here. And local pipsqueak twits and their skeleton crewed miniscule minions never deigned to mention a word of it. On strict orders from the brass. “We don’t cover Trump. Period. Not his White House briefings, nothing. Especially when he’s kicking our ass!” I know no words to explain my contempt for these horribles. None. I boil. My loathing and abhorrence know no bounds our surcease. 

This! This is journalistic treason and malfeasance. From the mindless dastards who give us such riveting specials as “Things In Your Bathroom That’ll Kill You” and “Compost and You.” Nope, that tripe they covered but not a peep as to the Comfort.

I took this from my window, admittedly a rather simple shot of the event from what looks like a sniper’s vantage. But I was so proud of our efforts. The sight, the sound, the significance. You can’t hear the hum and buzz of choppers overhead, harbor boats, tugs, accompanying vessels, security, cops, the whole megillah. To see a Navy ship of this size on a dedicated mission to render aid and assistance arriving was nothing short of jaw-dropping, monumental and NEWSWORTHY! A concept dreadfully lost. How in the name of all that pretends to be holy can there not be unity in focus when the entire human species faces a pandemic that will not wipe out all that is human (no) but certainly one that will decimate all that it owns, runs, operates, controls, enjoys, possesses, loves, likes, prefers, watches, listens to, observes . . . I think you’re catching my drift. And this is not some overreaction. Far from it, it’s a reaction. I’m just an observer like you. Inside, in touch and inconvenienced.

Yet, I’m admittedly beyond shocked. I lived in the delusion that whenever there was a calamity or threat that focused upon all of us equally, everyone would attend and focus accordingly. As in concerted. Determined, dedicated, sharing the load, pitching in and spreading the holy word of truth. As in what’s happening. Not who’s benefitting.

Oh, and here’s the best part.

NYC moonbat and manchild, the benighted and befuddled Mayor Big Bird de Blasio tries to finagle some kind of control, or the image of control, with his maundering press conferences about . . . something. It must be about something. It just has to be. OED announced recently that his name would be placed next to the term numbnuts. As it should be. That pathetic impuissant pissant. But I digress.

Enter AC. Der Guv. He’s hung up the cargo pants and now he’s going for the Excelsior polo prep pose. Yep, the Empire State’s Emperor Governor Andy the Dandy Cuomo, the Sollozzo doppelgänger sans Sandra, is certainly enjoying the national Klieg as there’s now some significant talk of his being given the nom and nod at the upcoming 2020 DNC clusterfëck, now certainly destined to be virtual. A brokered convention is all but assured as it seems unlikely you’ll get 1991 delegates on the first ballot for a nod. As Creepy Skeevy Dr. Demented Joe Bidin’ (his time) broadcasts from a basement library lockup and spews, drools and drops the latest in cantankerous caterwauling about who (the fœk) knows, Andrew the Dauphin sits back for his latest trip down memory lane moment in free association that started initially as a press conference. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard him wax homespun as he details his years of Sunday sausage and gravy and kids and Italo-American Rockwell vignettes. 

His latest foray into purloined moments of hijacked credit came when he gave a tour of the Javits Center’s transformation into a 1,000+ hospital bed superstructure used to handle patient overflow. It was FEMA, the Feds and President Trump. As a friend of mine said, Andy unlocked the door and let Trump et al. set up shop. The elephantine huevos of these folks never cease to amaze me.

I was under the delusion that whenever all was shared in terms of catastrophe and harm, we all shared the credit and cooperated.

So, my friend, I bid you safety and health and peace.

Until the morrow.

Friends seen an’ unseen…to you that are ridin’ along
In your automobile…to you that are sitting at you table
I greet you with the holy word ‘Peace’…
For with my infinite mind I thinks constructively…
And I’m able to draw whatsaever I want into my immediate
Surroundin’…for yo’ minds are my mind
And my mind is yo’ mind and I’m sendin’ out
My mind to you, you, an’ you…

— Prophet Omega

Ask yourself this question: What reality would you care to inhabit now? Where should you go? That is, your mind and spirit and worldview, what happens next?

You can be freaked out beyond comprehension. And you would certainly be entitled. You could go full anti-Trump and blame everything under the Sun on him. Or blame Pelosi and the Dems. You could tout new drugs, remedies, vitamins, elixirs or potions to attack this deadly viral critter. You could rail against the oncoming decimation of civil liberties or squeal in glee over what may very well be the end of the Fed. Or combinations thereof. Pick your poison and angle. It’s entirely up to you.

It’s your reality. Take it. Take hold. Claim it. Be in charge and steward the helm of your ship. Seriously, just pick whatever you want to be true. Focus. Narrowcast and limit that which you care to attend to and act accordingly. But pick one. Two tops. Because if you try to absorb all realities and views and coverage you will lose your mind. And we’ve just started this terrifying journey.

Look, nobody knows anything about anything. And they never did. The level of inconsistency in news will astound you. You’ll see videos of hospitals that look like third world clinics after a tsunami. Patients everywhere, doctors overworked, importuning government panjandrums for help. Recently we watched Italians pleading online for help as dead relatives literally and actually decomposed in their beds, unable to be removed and buried. New York hospital workers wearing garbage bags because gowns and equipment were never received. Our Governor Cuomo entreating President Trump for help (which he received) and ventilators (which he already had) as he prepares to be drafted into service at the July 2020 DNC convention, most probably held online. Meanwhile our NYC mayor, the benighted moonbat BDB, stays up late thinking of new ways to scare, deconstruct and inconvenience. Alexandria Ocrazio-Cortex bleated that even more help and money and alms and charity must be given to all illegals who’ve ignored immigration laws. Jails are being emptied along with some very crazy and not-so-nice folks who would normally remain behind bars and are now given swag bags of cellphones, cab rides and hotel rooms. Plans to have makeshift morgues set up to handle the anticipated overflow of dead are now being made and chronicled daily. You choose which reality, which story, which horror you want. It’s up to you.

Or you can try and decipher the meaning behind the latest cryptic Tom Hanks selfie. You could watch narcissist Hollywood Z-listers wax incoherent about God only knows what. Watch local TV news for the latest in skeleton crew insipidity. Talk radio’s also fun as it tries to inform whilst locked in and concretized in a decades-old format that went the way of the rotary phone. (“Thank you for taking my call.” “First time, long time, Dick.”) You might even want to sit through Bob Dylan’s latest drop (clocking in at a paralyzing sub 17:00), his gravelly funereal and delightful dirge tour de force and pick-me-up toe-tapper Murder Most Foul, for a few laughs. And you can listen to the critics and fans ooze encomia per usual. Dylan could eructate to standing ovations. (Which I swear he has on a few occasions.)

Whatever the avenue or direction, you’re going to have to hold up for you and your families. You cannot listen to mainstream media doomsayers.

Say it with me.

Do not listen to mainstream media doomsayers.

I thank you for your time. Be well. Be sane. We’re going to get through this and we will survive. Stronger, smarter and more appreciative of our families and friends and what matters.

Until the morrow.itics and fans ooze encomia per usual. Dylan could eructate to standing ovations. (Which I swear he has on a few occasions.)

Whatever the avenue or direction, you’re going to have to hold up for you and your families. You cannot listen to mainstream media doomsayers.

Say it with me.

Do not listen to mainstream media doomsayers.

I thank you for your time. Be well. Be sane. We’re going to get through this and we will survive. Stronger, smarter and more appreciative of our families and friends and what matters.

Until the morrow.

The level of panic and misdirection are off the bloody charts. Here in New York we’re being warned about makeshift morgues that will be overflowing. Followed by a shortage. Of morgues. How’s that for sobering, Sparky? The Javits Center is now a 1000+ bed MASH unit ready to receive casualties. There’s talk of military takeover, martial law, shutdowns, lockdowns, shoot on sight orders, police ditching their posts via BLUE FLU mobilization. Infighting, scare tactics. Pols jockeying for the evening news. People walking around in HazMat suits, masked, gloved and socially distant.
 
Every conceivable reaction you can imagine is pouring through every media orifice. It’s news diarrhea. Drinking from a fire hose. And it’s impossible to react or to gauge one’s behavior accordingly because there’s nothing that can be done. There’s no remedy. No solution. We sit and wait and watch what politicians say and do. 
 
Oh, and blame Trump. Absolutely. It’s all his fault. Everything. He hand-crafted the virus. He created the supply shortages and under-purchased critical items even before he was elected. He’s a time bandit who traveled to the past and laid the groundwork for this pandemic. It’s all his fault. He talks too much. He doesn’t talk enough. The Coronavirus Stimulus Package is right, wrong, too much and not enough. It’s his fault if it fails and Pelosi’s Dems’ triumph if it works. Everything that is wrong, goes wrong or goes south is Trump’s fault.

And Obama did nothing wrong. Nothing. Or Hillary or Pelosi or Creepy Joe or Bernie or AOC or Schiff. Listen, no one has ever done anything wrong but Trump. Got it?

That’s the refrain.
 
Now, do you feel better? Does that about summarize it all?
 
I’m awash in experts. Experts with no plan or ideas. Experts who are killing me with their expertise. Everyone’s a Chloroquine expert. And an expert in Deep State treachery, martial law, the swamp . . . I’ve had it.
 
Had it with everything.
 
Here’s my plan. As in what I’m doing. Ready?

• Do nothing until I know what the hell I’m doing.
• Think in terms of what’s next and tomorrow.
• Read headlines maybe but only insofar as government directives and orders.
• Stay home as much as is possible.
• Turn off all news, particularly mainstream media Ted Baxter corporate news.
• Limit Twitter to the most perfunctory scans possible.
• Ditch Facebook.
• Monitor my family’s health stats and chronicle the onset of anything new.
• Intermittent fasting and calorie restriction. Why? Lose weight, Einstein.
• Stay away from negative, ignorant and panic-prone idiots.
• Watch no YouTube doomsayers, Cassandras or self-appointed Deep State experts.

Stay healthy.
 
Until the morrow.
 

“There’s a reason you separate the military and the police. One fights the enemy of the state, the other serves and protects the people. When the military becomes both, then the enemies of the state tend to become the people.”

Who said this? It’s so profound and succinct.
 
In Battlestar Galactica there’s a most critical scene where Laura Roslyn, President of the Twelve Colonies, and Commander William Adama are discussing how to respond to the potential rioting among civilians. In the absence of a suitable and effective police force capable of quelling the situation, President Roslyn wants the military to in effect police the civilians. Adama informs her that the military won’t be her cops and provides the aforementioned thusly. This is the essence of the firewall between civilian law enforcement and the military.
 
This isn’t a treatise so I’ll refer you to articles and references to Posse Comitatus and martial law and the various distinctions between such. This is a note of hope and support. Not saccharine pap but encouragement. And there are a number of very good people who’ve been sounding the alarm that martial law and military occupation are here because they’ve seen videos of thousands of heavy military vehicles and tanks transported on rail in seemingly endless strings of deployment. And to anyone who’s seen such, it’s frightening and daunting.
 
But to others it’s relief. It’s soothing and comforting. To many, military and National Guard assistance modes are needed emollients to a freaked out society. Many look upon it as summoning the cavalry (or the oft-mispronounced Calvary). And speaking of mispronounced and misspelled, how about Marshall Law?
 
I find the duality fascinating. One group (IMHO) overreacts at times and misconstrues assistance and governance and leadership and containment and reaction with governmental overreach and lost liberties. Another group lulled into a sense of trust can’t even contemplate the notion of a regime going rogue or drills going hot or the suspension and then abrogation of civil liberties being stripped when firewalls are relaxed and when populations are too trusting.
 
There’s a balance to be sure. But let me give you some immediate reality here that’s absolute, indubitable and certain.
 
We’ve not seen this ever before. And don’t give me that Spanish influenza bit. 1918 might as well be 1918 BCE. We haven’t seen this. This virus, as you know, is a MUTHA. You can lull yourself into whatever complacency capsid you’d like — it’s 5G, it’s manufactured, it’s patented and Bill Gates owns it, China made it, whatever — and you can seek solace in arcane plumbing of decoded messaging and the like. You can attribute this to God, Satan, the Chinese, Communism, have at it. None of that matters. What this is is something that no one ever figured or imagined or is even remotely prepared for handling. That’s a fact. And if you think this is some sinister plan to exact and enact martial law and the subjugation of American citizens, knock yourself out. Two words: NOT NOW. This is huge.
 
But . . . and there’s always a but . . . at no time, including now, are you ever, EVER! to allow anyone or any group to seize upon our vulnerability and fear and dread so as to allow the softening or dilution of fundamental Constitutional rights. Not a plague, pestilence, war, hurricane, bioterror, terror, Islamic jihadist stuff . . . nothing! Nothing can be used as pretext or artifice. Nothing ever, no matter what.
 
But (there’s another but) that doesn’t mean that there cannot be a melding, a sharing, a concomitant concurrence, a simultaneity of military, quasi-military and administrative entities working in concert without, repeat, without the relinquishing of civil liberties. And why’s that critical?
 
Order. Aside from the health and economic disasters that could in fact result and ensue, I am particularly fearful of disorder. Chaos. A breakdown of law and order. Crime. Gangs, looting, swarms. An ochlocracy (government by a mob or mob rule). The moment bad guys sense that the cops are busy, that citizens are scared, that response to criminal behavior is delayed or nonexistent, you can bet hoodlums and packs of miscreants will lay waste. Guaranteed. That simple. And when that happens, the best antidote and vaccine (perish the thought!) are an overwhelming show of force through National Guard personnel, the gendarmerie, constables, Barney and Andy, SWAT, name it. And, if their presence scares the civil libertarian tyro or hipster anarchist leftie wannabe, get over it, Emma Goldman! This is war and this is uncharted, so improvise or perish.
 
Get ready to feel overwhelmed from everything. To have your world rocked and your solid bedrock ideological truth pulverized. Get ready to improvise and adapt or perish. Be malleable, bendable and adaptable. Focus on what matters and get ready to play multiple chess players and have more plates spinning simultaneously than you ever thought possible.
 
And watch the usual suspects repeat the usual subjects. I’ve contracted greatly my worldview. I’ve ditched many of the commentaries and analysts that I once found piquant and fascinating. Now they bore me unbearably. And for most who’ve never delved into what was considered the conspiracy realm, they’re working overtime trying desperately to cobble together and weave the most fantastic attempts to forge and force order. I’m hit with homemade videos of stars delivering either cryptic messages of [DS] revolt or psychotic logolalic drivel without focus or purpose. I’m deluged with the latest hypothesis and theory on how Chinese officials created the illusion of a zoonotic death virus while being hit with the theme that Hollywood is in cahoots for having created the myth that contagions can crumble.
 
If you found this last paragraph supra loopy, welcome to my world. I swim amidst and among legions of the demented, yet artistic. I know as friends and colleagues good folks who sincerely need to see order in the world. Purpose. And with that come misinterpretations and such.
 
That’s enough for now, patriots and friends. You’ve been through enough. Just know that we’re all in this together (as Chin Ho Kelly often reminded Steve McGarrett) and we’ll speak again.

The Hill-Burton Act (The Act hereinafter) signed into law by President Harry S (N.B. No period after S) Truman on August 13, 1946, was nothing short of monumental in every sense of the word. It was game changing, historically critical and more relevant now and today than at any time. It reinforced the notion of the criticality of hospitals in cities and states. Not universal healthcare, not elective surgery, not Obamacare cardboard plan insurance policies, no. It addressed the fundamental and unsexy fact that people need and may indeed have a right to available hospitals in the case of epidemics, pestilence, war, terror and combinations thereof. See the relevance now?

The Act came in response to the country’s post-Depression, post-WWII realization and awareness of the need for hospital beds, with some areas having no hospitals at all. Period. The Act led to the Surgeon General’s establishment of hospital bed to patient ratios determining as a benchmark standard that 4.5 hospital beds were needed per 1,000 in population. And this was the basis, the capstone. The goal. Its necessity, its essentialness and quiddity.
 
The Act, known formally as the Hospital Survey and Construction Act, started as a Truman initiative and in 1997, sadly, this type of direct, community-based federal health care construction financing came to an end. But here’s the gist of today’s sermon, patriots. How are we today in terms of ratios and the like? How do we rank among the world?
 
What’s our ratio today? Not good. Try 2.7/1000 beds per thousand population according to the OECD. We’re 32^nd out of 40 countries. Look.

OECD Chart: Hospital beds, Total, Per 1 000 inhabitants, Annual, 2015 – 2018

And how do other countries fare?

Japan 13+
South Korean 12+
Russia 8+
Germany 8
 
Ireland beats us with a 2.9. Turkey’s at 2.75.
 
Let me stop.
 
Here’s the simple takeaway. It’s time, America, to abandon those idiotic kneejerks when it comes to governmental involvement and intervention anent healthcare, specifically now when we’re facing COVID19. Let’s get neoteric and new-fangled, patriots. I know what happens whenever we talk this health stuff, some folks lapse into a Bernie coma and start spouting the most incomprehensible drivel as to their ideas of socialism and Marxism. Shelve it. Stow it. Pay attention and focus.
 
Not if but when this country needs millions of hospital beds for patients on ventilators or the latest plague, pestilence, epidemic, pandemic, whatever, we’re going to also need doctors and nurses and techs and labs and the administrative personnel and structure to support it. That simple. That plain. So what are we doing? We’re arguing about whether the appellation China Virus is Sinophobic or xenophobic. Fox News is taking the opposite tack and going wall-to-wall with #ChinaDidIt coverage. Newbie YouTube conspiracist tyros are cleaning off the kitchen table and screaming into the green light that it’s Bill Gates’s fault while boys barely old enough to shave are lauding the virtues of quinine and anti-malarial elixirs with the points missed completely and altogether. Fear sluts and pity slatterns howl into Facebook echo chambers how they just can’t believe it, how they can’t fathom this mess, how they, they, they.

Stop watching the news. It’s not news. Stop reading Drudge. The morning shows are not informational, they’re funereal and macabre and pathetic and must be avoided. Keep a social distance from social media. Lose depressing friends. Jettison the somber. Stop reading lame health findings that promise a “cure” from ginger, Vitamin __ and Wolf’s bane. Stop blaming wet markets, bat soup and now pangolins.
 
Rediscover prayer, spirituality and your families. Virtually visit famous museums and attend religious services online. Watch funny movies, be silly. Seriously. Do this in addition to staying calm. Focus on what’s critical as in now. Your freaking out over 5G and chemtrail destruction of bees and HAARP LARPS will add nothing to your mental health or efficacy as parent and citizen. That will wait. Focus. 
 
So, #STFU and pay attention. Calling all grownups! We need you front and center and paying attention. And subscribe to the BEST YOUTUBE CHANNELbar none. Mine.
 
This is a wakeup call, America.

It was an inside job
By the well-connected
Your little protest
Summarily rejected —  Don Henley/Michael W. Campbell

Friends and patriots, I greet you with the holy word peace, quoth the Prophet Omega.

Please allow me this. Please let me intrude upon this, your valuable moment of the day with this most important message. A critical message. A message for your soul and sanity.

I want to provide the following warning to you and suggest that you follow it to the letter. One of the biggest problems that we face right now is that of misinformation, exaggeration and just plain old make-believe bollocks: made up, deliberately concocted, coined, construed and constructed cocksure cockamamie — manufactured lies. Avoid them. Lies not in the traditional legal sense of a misrepresentation of fact with the intent to deceive but rather the negligent (at best) dissemination of information without any basis in fact or any foundation in science or reality. Pulled out of thin air. Or mindlessly repeated. Thoughtlessly retweeted or reposted. Avoid them. Avoid that intended to scare, to alarm just for the sake of freaking you out. Avoid the incessant texter with the latest death toll. I have a pal who sees fit to text and email me on ventilator horrors, as in the lack of them. He’s almost giddy. “See? Look, we’re all going to die! Bwahaahaha!” What’s the point of these? First, to blame Trump. Second, to be the Larry Flynt of Fear Porn. Avoid these people. Like the plague.

And while these may be facts, haven’t you received the latest email on how Bill Gates patented the virus? Or how Tom Hanks is part of some military unit that has him quarantined. What about Oprah’s arrest for child sacrifice. Or was it trafficking? Anyway, it never happened. And it’s getting out of control. More than anything I could have anticipated ever. Behavioral scientists will be looking at this moment in time for a variety of reasons including how information is transmitted and how quickly. How the bait is taken. What levels of suspicion or skepticism are even used by the consumer of questionable data. How mythology becomes data. “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” (The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance)

So we have two vectors here: (1) the disseminator of fact in order to scare the shit out of folks and (2) the bullshit spreader and transmitter. Both guided by the same principle. To . . . freak . . . you . . . out. You biting?

Just today I spoke with and texted and emailed a slew of folks. Doctors, professional types, lawyers, cops, docs, media types, name it. And what I heard was the underground skinny. The blind item. The inside poop from a doctor who knows a cop whose sister works with the Pentagon and . . . (here we go) we are definitely going to have a lockdown, quarantine, isolation, shelter in place, martial law, name it. All of these Cassandras seemed to state that it was provided on some form of good authority that NYC will be under an occupying force of cops, soldiers, National Guardsmen, FEMA Stormtroopers . . . you name the entity, they’re coming.

“So where’d you hear this?”

“Can’t say.”

“How do you know it’s true.”

“I just know.”

“Well, what’s going to happen?”

“Martial law. I think. No, wait. Lockdown, maybe. No, shelter in place.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Not sure exactly.”

“So, why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want to be a big shot. I want to spread dirt and dread and fear. I want to be important. I love pretending I know something even if it’s wrong and even if it scares people needlessly.”

And what’s beyond creepy is the look (or sound or text) of glee as these sick people get their jollies and rocks off scaring the hell out of you or impressing you with how they’ve connected the dots, deciphered the code, read the entrails of the beast and figured it all out while you, some pissant normie, just walk around dumb and dumbfounded. I’ve never seen anything like it. And I’m supposed to be the tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist. (Actually, it’s aluminum foil and I’m a conspiracy analyst, à la Gore Vidal.)

This is a unique communications moment where everyone in the world is at this very place in time watching and worrying about the same thing. The same identical thing. Catastrophes and disasters are indeed common (sadly) but they’re not simultaneously experienced within the same time frame. Everyone on the planet is concerned about the China Virus now. And tomorrow. We look to other nations and governments in a universality of focus. Theoretically enemies join hands with enemies to cobble together and cull and collate solutions. The commitment to the expunction and expurgation of this bioterror. Zoonotic, at least at first blush.

Which brings me to this latest iteration of insanity. Calls of Sinophobia in referring to the virus as the China Virus. What utter tripe! Even in the midst of a pandemic, PC shock troops and thought vigilantes are screaming and yelling about phraseology and taxonomy. West Nile Virus, Spanish Flu, Ebola. That’s OK, but China?! How dare you impugn the good name of this benevolent government! Now, can you imagine if this virus originated in Russia? All bets would be off and the Russophobic torch and pitchfork crowd would be in full swing. [For a list of 17 diseases named after places and people, enjoy.]

Stay focused, patriot. We’ll get through this together.

I bid you the holy word of peace. And hello. And calm. And sangfroid and equanimity and equipoise.

• You must relax and focus.
• Be frightened but don’t panic.
• Listen and learn.
• Stock up on data.
• Fill your larder with facts and information and throw out expired fear.
• Lose the friends who bring you down for they aren’t friends.
• Turn off virulent social media.
• Never spend any time listening to anyone screaming about martial law who spells it Marshall.
• Ignore anyone who confuses lockdown with quarantine with self-quarantine with isolation.
• Walk away from those weaving and knitting fantastic yarns and scripts of Bill Gates and Soros and the dread (your favorite here), patented viruses and biowarfare. [It might be true, but not now.]
• Skip those who want to remind you constantly of how Europe is screaming for a reprieve and release and we’re next.
• Lose the number of anyone constantly texting you as to the latest death toll.
• Close your eyes to mindless media admonitions and threats that you’ve heard to the point of exhaustion.
• Eighty-six the incessant, interminable, insufferable and incomprehensibly soul paralyzing. You’ve seen your fill of empty shelves and know every last toilet paper joke. You’ve seen store runs and folks with the runs (see TP joke references infra). 

And now a word on toilet paper is in order. Why? Where’d the connection come from? Why toilet paper runs (OUCH! Very punny). Paronomasia aside, have folks confused COVID19 with GI distress? Is this the milk and bread bit that we see during hurricanes and storms? When this finally abates and common sense abides we’ll tackle this one, but not now.
 
This is going to be tough. Rough. Bad. Serious. But it will not destroy us. Repeat.
 
It will not destroy us.
It will not destroy us.
It will not destroy us.
It will not destroy us.
 
But don’t say that to those media clowns looking to burnish the Emmy reel with their latest fear porn installment, live from the bowels of despair. Please, Ted Baxter, more clips of an empty Times Square. More mindless MOS and citizen interviews from the monosyllabic and drooling. More filler, Ted. More hackneyed overdone overplayed overdose over the top.
 
We will get through this.
We will get through this.
We will get through this.
We will get through this.
 
Stay the ___ home. Reintroduce yourself to your kids. Read. Play board games. Talk. Laugh. Clean. Clean closets. Drawers. Do stuff. Write. Jot. Draw. Sketch. Call old friends on the phone. Remember the phone? Don’t text them. Call them. Start your own YouTube channel. Video your grandmother (if you’re lucky enough to have her with you) making a favorite delicacy. Interview a grandparent. Learn of his history. (Had I been wise enough to have thought of this earlier.) Watch lectures, learn stupid magic tricks. Play hide the soap. (I’ll get back with you later on that one.)
 
And #STFU (ask your kids) if you find yourself whining and kvetching. No one cares how you’re put out by this event that is being shared literally by everyone on the planet. And while we’re on the subject, learn the difference between literally and figuratively. Just saying.
 
But in the meantime. Laugh. Take notes and keep a diary because when this is over (and it will be) you’ll want to remember the finer points of our collective insanity.
 
And one more thing. Remember something. The election is 230 days away. Joe Biden will most probably be the Democratic nominee even if he has no idea of the year or where he is. He could very well be the nominee and that means he’s malleable and impressionable and is the perfect Manchurian candidate. The Pinocchio to the [DS] Geppetto. The servant of the globalist cabal. The marionette. The sockpuppet. The Potemkin POTUS. Viruses can be contained, systemic corruption and malign corruption can’t. It reproduces and replicates faster than anything imaginable.
 
Donald Trump must win reelection.
Donald Trump must win reelection.
Donald Trump must win reelection.
Donald Trump must win reelection.
 
He simply must. Triumphantly. Magnificently. Via landslide. This is not a joke and not a drill. I don’t care if you hate him or his hair or his hands or his ties or his whatever. He is America’s best chance. Its only chance. And if you want these libturd Demoncrats near the accelerator, ready to inflict on this nation the Green New Spiel or Master Beto at the controls of the Second Amendment’s evaporation . . . if you think AOC’s a groovy alternative to reality or if you like the hoary and wizened Bernie, spiting a socialist shit storm of logolalia hidden as dreamy progressiveness, you’re in for the fight of your life. Because after COVID19 goes the way of bygone pandemics (before election day, I add), we’re going to be focused and lasered on MAGA2020 and returning the greatest President in my lifetime back for round two. When the shit will absolutely and completely hit the fan. When the finishing touches are made. Call it the plan, the awakening or plain old justice. Either way, it’s happening. So join the winning team, get out of the way or prepare to be trampled.
 
Faith, patriots.

People are scared and rightly so. I don’t care who you are or where you’re from, folks are panicking as news gets more dire and ominous and foreboding. Schools closed, stock markets tumbling, panic in stores, fights over toilet paper. Mask(ed) hysteria. Store runs on everything with no end in sight. Mindless idiot pols and leaders giving press conferences that say nothing. And no one is more monumentally disconnected rhetorically and practically than New York Governor Andrew “Sollozzo” Cuomo. If you’ve never had the displeasure of hearing him address anything, let me explain. He possesses a cadence and accent pattern that knows no recognizable regionality. It’s a patchwork of awkward lilts, a sputtering delivery and the sincerity of someone in a hostage video. They admonish you to continue to live normally and rationally in the midst of this colossal chaos, this latter day Andromeda Strain, all the while instructing you on how to wash your hands. Seriously. This is the level of nincompoop leadership we’ve dealt with daily here in my state. And don’t get me started with our Mayor. Herr Boeotian.  
 
I was here in New York on 9/11. You? Hate to pull the experiential card, but you want to talk chaos and being scared shitless? Cataclysmic, catastrophic, existential THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING scary. Let’s talk about that day. Then we’ll merge into the Depression, WWII and we’ll throw in the Civil War and Vietnam just for good measure. The United States of Amnesia, Gore Vidal was right. Sure, this is spooky and your point is . . . ? But let me remind you that each and every year 650K Americans die of heart disease right here in River City, the US. The Number One killer. Bar none. The Number One killer that’s preventable. And not a peep from the masses. Our fright and fear have no historical perspective. No sense of permanency, proportion and persistence. No historical framework. No perspective, position, relativity. Nothing.
 
It’s hard to describe the level of international worldwide panic that #nCov19 has inspired. And it should. Can you remember anything remotely near it in terms of fervor? And dread? And terror? (9/11 notwithstanding, mind you. That was panic on a different level as I’ve explained.) But admit it, many have never imagined anything quite like this. Panic breeds panic. Mainstream media types have never been so gleeful when they’ve yet another weapon in the fear porn arsenal and quiver to unleash on viewers and listeners. It’s that simple really. It’s the Hegelian Dialectic front and center. The population is presented a problem, panic ensues and a solution is granted kindly by government types. We’ll help you, we being the government. We’ll make you safer: vaccines, quarantines, mandatory shut-downs, restraints on liberty, more control, more constriction and restriction. You’ll love how we’ve taken control and, what’s better, you’ll ask for more. Oh, you want a solution, have we got one for you. And oddly enough, the more Draconian the restriction the more people seem to actually like it.
 
Fear porn. Fear is exciting. Ask any horror film aficionado. It harkens back to the most primordial and atavistic of all reflexes and responses. A limbic response in unison. Fight or flight. Survival pure and simple. It doesn’t require any deep thought or analysis (and that’s always a plus) and it’s multiplied by virtue of citizen partnering in sharing and inspiring the collective dread. Panic sells. It’s titillating, inspiring and addictive. Fear’s sexy, media portrayal pornographic. And folks will charge and stampede for no earthly reason. Toilet paper runs (odd phraseology, agreed), Purell hoarding, alcohol swab swiping, name it. We see it all the time. In New York it’s guaranteed that the next snow storm will inspire yet again the usual suspects and passels and teams of lunatic consumers who’ll load up on milk and bread. Why? Dunno. No one knows. Nothing like being stuck indoors with a bunch of lactose intolerant flatulent toast-heads waiting for the deluge to abate. Even better’s when tried-and-true snow vets make mad rushes to Home Depot to buy (yet again) more snow shovels. What, do they break? Didn’t they have any before the fall? Panic is profit. Overreaction is gold. And throw in social media loons who will meme and GIF formatted horror through the exaggeration lens and, well, you’ve really got something.
 
It’s the time for leadership. My unabashed support for this President is evident but he’s missing a political opportunity that rarely comes about this directly and obviously. Let me be blunt. He could own the Corona Crisis with thrice-daily reports to his constituents (aka Americans) via his own unique Trump TV media platform, which he’s yet to construct despite my pleas. Updates and new information, all the while assuaging the fears of a panicked and terrified America. It’s political gold, sorry to be so crass. With 238 days until Election2020 you can’t miss one opportunity, make one mistake or have one unforced error. Optics are critical. The feeling, the view, the impression. Playing golf and partying at Mar-a-Lago along with reviewing blueprints for tennis pavilions do not . . . REPEAT . . . DO NOT resonate with a country and world freaked over something they can’t even comprehend. Trump has a maundering dotard as his presumptive opponent and he could wipe the floor with him using the power of the Presidency, the immane platform of unlimited resources and authorities and new media platforms that he hasn’t come close to exploiting. He was masterful, genius in fact, with how he commandeered Twitter and obliterated the competition by punting over the Fake News Media by directly speaking to the public. It was such a simple idea, but he made it happen, owned it and forever changed the landscape of politics. He’s wasting an opportunity. He has to (again) own the panic. Own the freneticism. Corral the pandemonium. It’s his if he wants it. And, lest we forget, actually do a great job being POTUS and doing his job as he is and has. This man’s communication prowess is like no other. He can connect with the average, usual and ordinary (that’s us, patriots), tethering them/us through his naked verity and candor. He possesses a genius for it. And with that comes the concomitant concern to never squander that connectivity by appearing disconnected, unattached, distant or excluded. Trapped in the bubble. There’s never been a problem with wealth disparity. He’s made no bones about his sick coin and lifestyle and while other phony pols were walking around sporting new flannel wardrobe straight from the package, while HRC was downing boilermakers with Scranton ironworkers, while Barry O was firing gutter ball after gutter ball (literally and figuratively), while Creepy Joe the partialist waxed tricophilic, sniffing and snorting the tresses of the unsuspecting, DJT was just who he was and is. The man’s a master. And with that comes the chance, opportunity and duty to meld true leadership with political opportunism. That simple.

If you read one article, make it this one. COVID-19 Isn’t As Deadly As We Think: Don’t hoard masks and food: Figure out how to help seniors and the immunosuppressed stay healthy. Seriously, stop for a second and give it a read. Jeremy Faust MD details the facts and realities. Perfectly. Here’s the quick takeaway.

• Look at who is infected and who dies.
• Look at comorbidity factors, i.e. the presence of more than one disorder in the same person.
• Look at sample age and whether transmissibility is contingent on or correlated with immune-compromised subjects.
• Look at China’s geographic and demographic factors when assessing infection rates.
• Look at nCoV19 vis-à-vis other pathogen and disease platforms, modalities and transmissibility.

Take a deep breath. (At least not in a packed subway.) Is it possible for people to hover around rationality when reviewing alarming news? F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time.” Stated differently, yes, be mindful and vigilant and scared if you must, but don’t lose your mind(s). Repeat: Minds. Apply critical thinking. Peruse carefully and understand that the MSM have no interest in the truth or amelioration or perspective. That simple.

The degree of incoherence. It’s easy at first impression to believe that #FakeNewsMedia is just acting incompetently by virtue of their schizoid coverage and treatment of #nCoV19. True. It’s easy because in great part it’s true. But in view of the foregoing and averments cited, be thoughtful, careful, wise, learned, educated and circumspect. And brush up on Farr’s Law of Epidemics, first promulgated in 1840 and later resurrected by Brownlee in the early 1900s. It states that epidemics tend to rise and fall in a roughly symmetrical pattern that can be approximated by a normal bell-shaped curve. Remember, this isn’t our first rodeo. Our as in us as in the world. Now, carry on.
 
Lionel at NYC’s Cutting Room May 16, 2020. LIONEL storms the stage and graces the portals of NYC’s fabled and vaunted Cutting Room for a May 16, 2020, performance that will wow the kids, shock the conscience and reintroduce audiences to the fine-tuned fine art of political absurdism. Yes, it’s time for the show that reinvents (out)spoken word. LIONEL is a raconteur, boulevardier and practitioner of the absurdist lens in a style no one, and we mean, no one has ever approximated. A celebration for charter members of the red-pilled clerisy and truth warrior contingent. Verity evangelism. His last Cutting Room event was one for the ages as the audience thundered rousing support for LIONEL and his Conspiratorium Review. LIONEL never fails to astound, confound, enchant and mesmerize his liberty sentry audience with tales from the front lines, a wicked dissection of fake news media charlatans and panjandrums and a keen and decisive inspection of the world through the unique prism that defies description yet redefines comedy, satire and critical thinking. And if that’s not enough he brings his trio and tintinnabulation troika, Lock ‘n Load, featuring Brobdingnagian flatpicking wizard talent Bob Harris along with Carl Baran, the high priest of banjo renaissance, to wow and cosmically jumpstart your soul through a musical foray into the roots-based gutbucket high lonesome America heritage songbook of the immaculate twang of Mother Bluegrass. Where to get tickets? HERE.
 
How do I follow this Lionel feller? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, the Lionel Media website and browse the merchandise, memorabilia and marketing available at the Official Lionel Nation Gear Store and above all, the Lionel Nation YouTube Channel where we engage in immersive, totally interactive live stream broadcasts twice daily. It leaves antediluvian talk radio in the dust. Where it shall remain. And when it comes to the moiety of the team, Mrs. L can be followed thusly on Twitter. Please also refer to Mrs. L’s Focus on Human Trafficking channel.  

LIONEL LIVE in Amenia, NY
 
On January 22, 2020 — LIONEL, the Emmy award-winning mononymous digital truth warrior, veteran talk radio practitioner, former prosecutor, trial lawyer, bluegrass practitioner, author and legal and media analyst inaugurates his 2020 Pop-Up Entertainment Activism Tour when he graces the portals of Monte’s Local Kitchen & Tap Room in beauteous Amenia, Dutchess County, NY on Wednesday, January 22, 2020 from 6-8:30 PM for a dinner show that will wow, mesmerize, delightfully infuriate, enchant and entertain in a style that is without peer. Seeing is believing.
 
America is witnessing an information renaissance. Never before have our country and the world had such access to so much information and political data while exhibiting in some cases a concomitant profound ignorance. Is it too much data? Too much information to process and digest? Nope, LIONEL believes that the best and only way to understand what’s happening is through the absurdist lens. If you don’t find what’s occurring before your eyes hysterically funny, you’re missing the point. And LIONEL will bedazzle you with a wit and perspective that will inspire howls and painful cachinnation and snorting chortles. Please join us.
 
Anyone who’s followed LIONEL knows he’s never hidden his support of and for President Trump. And that has certainly earned him his share of detractors from political sinistrality. LIONEL loves controversy. He thrives on it. After all, you only catch flak when you’re over the target. And baby, we’re over the target.
 
LIONEL’s been in the business of show for over 32 years and loves the adventure of platform innovation. When talk radio was at its zenith LIONEL was there. Talkers Magazine voted him in the pantheon “HEAVIEST HUNDRED: The 100 most important radio talk show hosts of all time.” He was podcasting before anyone knew what it was and again was honored by Talkers with inclusion in “Talkers Frontier Fifty,” celebrating pioneering podcasters. He’s hit the standup circuit with, what he calls, (Out)spoken Word. And now, Pop-Up Guerilla Thought Entertainment. Are you in? 
 
Dig this. F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” That’s you, patriot. That’s us. Are you with us?
 
For TICKETS and information CLICK HERE.
 
DISCLAIMER: LIONEL is an unabashed supporter of President Trump. Those unaccustomed to such unapologetic fealty and admiration for this man’s political genius or who suffer from chronic TDS may experience uncontrollable dyspepsia, teeth-gnashing and spiritual disquietude. Please consult your physician if necessary. See you there and God Bless America.
 

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How do I follow this Lionel feller? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, the Lionel Media website and browse the merchandise, memorabilia and marketing available at the Official Lionel Nation Gear Store and above all, the Lionel Nation YouTube Channel where we engage in immersive, totally interactive live stream broadcasts twice daily. It leaves antediluvian talk radio in the dust. Where it shall remain. And when it comes to the moiety of the team, Mrs. L can be followed thusly on Twitter. Please also refer to Mrs. L’s Focus on Human Trafficking channel. Please, watch her video with an emergency room pediatrician; it’s simply chilling.
 

Chugging through America’s atherosclerotic rail artery. As I tap this Mrs. L and I are all aboard the Amtrak regional to the sump pump of the swamp, Washington DC. We just pulled out of Penn Station, the most antiquated and anachronistic and antediluvian and ossified and concretized shithole of shitholes. A virtual human detritus arcade. The tabernacle of the psychiatrically bereft. The cathedral of Black Belt crackers. An assault on the olfactories. My God, what have I done! (Echoing Byrne.) Shoeless, toothless, senseless, reality-less urchins and spent souls, tattered and distraught while discarded. Mumbling nonsensical threats and belches through teeth like piano keys, a 10-year-old scruff, watery eyes and breath that could smelt ore. God’s children perhaps but transient nightmares. The travelers’ trauma. The commuters’ Cuckoo’s Nest. And Amtrak “police” do nothing, these fat sloths and tenterbellied oafs grazing about waiting to retire. Every conceivable loon and batshit crazy ambulatory schiz scaring the shit out of the innocent tourist is here. You can always tell the hardcore New Yorker who will not so much as shift a smidgeon of their atomic footprint, not one molecule or neuron firing recognition or acknowledgement as some demented vagrant voice-farts something about a dollar, coffee or Edward Witten’s hypotheses on supersymmetry. Ah, New York. Meanwhile the meanest, nastiest, rudest Amtrak . . . get this . . . CUSTOMER SERVICE agent greets us. CUSTOMER SERVICE?! Bwahahaha! This guy makes Ed Gein look like Robert Q. Lewis and, no, I have no idea what that means. Ah, Penn Station. The depot time forgot. The posterchild of the decline of infrastructure. While China and virtually every developmentally relevant society rolls out the latest in locomotion from Maglev to HyperSpace to InterDimensional whatever we’ve got Floyd Smoot and the Cannonball. But when you have to peregrinate to Swamp City DC, it’s the best ticket in town. Amtrak, Hunter Biden’s quarry and Creepy Joe’s mark. Amtrak, the apex of American locomotion and travel. And have you ever been in a Club Acela? Egad! You can luxuriate in a place that’s a cross between an ICE Detention Center and a Super 8 lobby. To be sure, they don’t let just anyone greet Acela dupes conned into this First Class dreamscape, no siree, Bob. Nope, they get the best to man the front desk. Think rejects from a Tilt-A-Whirl midway concession in Dothan. We’re talking rough. Enough with that, now the critical data.
 
Donald Trump is a genius. Not just a stable one. Just a bona fide genius. There appears to be in fact and on display a Trump Doctrine. And with 292 days until the election this is not good news for the intellectually disaffected Dems, Never Trumpers and terminally-afflicted TDS livestock. This is the worst of news for these miserable naysayers without a plan, hope, vision, dream . . . name it. These are very bad times. The worst of times. His latest brilliance was on full display last eve in Milwaukee, site of the Demoncratic National Convention in July. From the moment he hit the stage until he walked off 90 minutes later (with no water sippage, no can breaks . . . is he running a Foley, for Chrissake?) he had them in the palm of his hand and he was again masterful and how this must gripe their arse, those rancid Dems.
 
‘O Sole Mio’s dead and no one gives a shit. You know it’s true. Casey Kasem Salami was surgically dispatched and evaporated over a flame, hit by a missile with a precision that knows no equal. Meanwhile, Iranian geniuses blew out of the sky innocent passengers on a Ukrainian flight. Whoops. And have you heard this tack? While this story was being reported those quisling bastards at NPR went overtime reminding the world of how American error blew out of the sky an Iranian passenger plane in 1988. Can you believe these vermin? Stick to the point, Ayatollah Assahollah. Focus on your own Iranian numbnuts (cf. Deez Nuts) and targeting morons who are confounded by innocents on regulated flight paths. And here’s the best part, Demoncrats, unable still to even approximate a message, are now demanding to know the particular bases of definitional parameters of the imminent (not eminent) threat POTUS employed in assessing the threat posture of this (now) grease spot. They’re simply unbelievable.
 
Rerun of Season One. Have you heard the latest iteration of Russia, Russia, Russia, the Russophobic Kremlin-bashing redbaiting Cold War carping, bleating, barking seal circus act and feigned histrionics? Oh, you did, huh? Then explain it. Go ahead, we’ll wait. But let me save you some time. It’s in fact what is blatantly, nakedly and obviously a limited hangout in preparation for and anticipation of something tastily nasty from perhaps the illegally confined Assange and his merry band of WikiLeaker prankster journos laying the groundwork to expose and (if there’s a Gawd) indict Creepy Joe et fils. Remember, the Ukrainian subject model will prove to be the most incomprehensibly stupid move when Poor Ol’ Pelosi allowed her misfits to run roughshod: So where are they now? At what stage do they enjoy? Reruns. Season One. Back to the drawing board. The impeachment, fraud, Ukraine and Obstruction of Whatever slumgullion gumbo accusation they’ve mixed together yet again. If it weren’t so tragic and pathetic, it would be (as the kids say) hilarious. And look at who’s pushing this yarn. Yep, the usual suspects. Seriously, no need to even comment here. Trust me.
 
What the hell happened to these folks, Sparky? #FoxNews has become museum quality paleoconservatism without the paleo or the conservatism. It’s maundering populism couched in celebratory echolalia. Tried, spent and prime for displacement by the new, bold and fearless truth warrior. Think I’m kidding? These folks keep regurgitating the same rote presentation with a ball-less vim, scaredy-cat approximations of real critical news that would wow the masses and (as we say in West Tampa say) KNOCK THEIR D-CK IN THE DIRT. Why must news be so boring? Trite and manicured and trimmed and leveled and beveled to fit in a nice carrying case, free of the sharp edges that excite and incite and invite. Will someone please tell me! My colleagues from heritage talk radio are like the Japanese soldier who doesn’t know the war’s over. It’s not 1988. No more Rush wannabes. No more headline rippers. Please, not for our sake but for yours, wake up and grow up. This is serious bidness, Sparky.
 
There’s a simple reason why #Megxzit captivates me. Because I love to see these inbred homozygotes fail, screw up and plummet to dirt where they belong. Harry turned out to redefine schmuckhood when he hooked up with this viper, Double-M. Dear Gawd, terminally p-whipped. Maybe it was part and parcel of his self-destructive tack perhaps over the fact that he never bought the fantasy that his Mum was killed in a tragic “accident.” Especially with beady-eyed amphibian (not full-reptile yet) Phil lurking in the background. Watch. After a short spell, he’ll divorce MM and crawl back to the Royals, shorn, shot and shat on.
 
Lionel’s Pop-Up Road Show Invades Again. Take note. On January 22, Wednesday, 2020 CE from 6-8:30 PM ET in Amenia, NY, as in Dutchess County, I’ll be laying out the groundwork to the success and triumph of this noble republic via my blockbuster, sui generis, nonpareil and simply off-the-chain (out)spoken word presentation (others would call it “stand up,” never I) as spellbound diners howl with delight. The place is Monte’s Local Kitchen & Tap Room. Here are the details. But arrange now your schedule. Hie! Seats are limited and fire marshal rules limit human cacophonies in extreme. TICKETS HERE
 
How do I follow this Lionel feller? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, the Lionel Media website and browse the merchandise, memorabilia and marketing available at the Official Lionel Nation Gear Store and above all, the Lionel Nation YouTube Channel where we engage in immersive, totally interactive live stream broadcasts twice daily. It leaves antediluvian talk radio in the dust. Where it shall remain. And when it comes to the moiety of the team, Mrs. L can be followed thusly on Twitter. Please also refer to Mrs. L’s Focus on Human Trafficking channel. Please, watch her video with an emergency room pediatrician; it’s simply chilling.