Lionel Nation

If only they knew what they were talking about. SCOTUS is the least understood governmental/juridical function fervently and vociferously argued and discussed by the least aware contingent of the least focused. As with diets, nutrition, science, politics, American history, Darwinian mechanics, the Bible, religion, particle physics and cosmology — Americans assume an unearned conversance with a subject matter they’ve never studied for a moment. They have a tenuous grasp of what this Constitution thing is and an almost puerile innocence that what isn’t fair is or should be somehow addressed through guarantee or prohibition, whatever fair means. Once the scrums are assigned both sides rail and howl anent RBG without any idea or notion of what she’s about, said, done, written, ruled, name it. But here’s the bottom line.
 
Crying on cue. With the procession of moirologists comes the concept of automourn, a cultural contrived collective hysteria whereby social media participants feign inconsolable grief over any remotely famous celebrity who dies, irrespective of how they die or their age at the time of death. The focus is on how the grieving’s sorrow outweighs others’. How their pain is the greatest. How their referenced and felt anguish outweighs everyone else’s and how they know best the degree of loss that the mourned represents. RBG you can bet is the subject of great lachrymation from a variety of mourners who confuse her with a Kate McKinnon character. You know, that judge lady who wears the lace doily collar. (You know it’s true.) Remember, I was a fan of RBG for many of her decisions. Not all. But that goes for all SCOTUS Justices. With the exception of the great and Brobdingnagian jurist Bushrod Washington.
 
Dragging out the usual tropes. The screaming and yelling and teeth gnashing and the contretemps and petty bickering, especially from the reality-bereft Bela Pelosi who’s quickly competing for the confused crown with the root cellar denizen Biden, handcuffed to a radiator who’s dragged before the masses after being hit with a nice Adderall booster. She’s threatening impeachment again. Nancy, please. We’ve heard it. Not again. The country hasn’t the stomach for it. Have some gourmet ice cream, get a wash and set and call it a day. Deal?

What America needs. I want a Justice who plays by the rules. Who, as is now the oft-cited norm, calls balls and strikes. That’s it. Who rules with a dispassionate and surgical focus on the Constitution. THE Constitution as written, as intended as designed. Not the mystical magical protean ever-evolving, ever-changing, ever-morphing, the perpetually transmogrifying, shapeshifting Constitution. Balderdash! Legislatures may change and reflect mores and attitudes. That’s fine. That’s expected. But the Constitution is another story. Yes, I’m echoing Nino Scalia’s originalism. You betcha, Sparky! It certainly can envisage and address new issues and challenges to conventional thinking but the basic precepts of the Constitution remain intact, based upon the original understanding of our drafters and forebears. That simple. That basic. It’s really not rocket science or political science.

Get used to it. And if it hasn’t hit you yet that everything post-Bork is a dumpster fire, cluster flock you must have been in a coma. All SCOTUS picks will enjoy this horror. (In fact, how Gorsuch slipped through I’ll never know.) And this goes for anyone irrespective of party affiliation. Politics loves blood and pain and destruction and collective agony. Ratings surge. Congressional stars are made. It’s a media bloodbath that will never cease. Never stop. And never change. So when POTUS nominates Amy Coney Barrett, hold on to your hats, buckaroos. It’s going to be bloodier and nastier than anything you’ve ever seen or could imagine.

That’s all.

The rudiments and abecedarian fundamentals of hero worship and becoming a truth acolyte. Simple.  This is the LionelNation YouTube Channel. Watch our twice quotidian LiveStream. At 8AM and 8PM ET we meet. So join up, join in, sign in and click the alert bell so you’ll be notified of future live streams, new videos and pertinent miscellany. Click here. Subscribe to the channel. Click here.
 

“The unlimited power of the sword is not in the hands of either the federal or state governments, but, where I trust in God it will ever remain, in the hands of the people.” — Tench Coxe

It’s as bad as it seems. There’s no way to explicate the insanity extant without sounding redundant and like everyone else who’s desperately trying to find new ways to articulate every level and layer of societal dreck our beloved republic is facing. As much as we try. As much as I try. Its beyond horrible. Beyond explicable. It’s tragic. And it’s all being done via scripted architecture. And in plain sight. By whom, you ask. George Soros, the grand lever puller of this controlled demolition. And this time he may have finally gone too far. Perhaps he never bargained for the reality of the very people whom he enlisted and auditioned and set loose with looter honoraria, a box lunch and pallets of bricks strategically left on corners would get so lost in the destruction skiffle that they couldn’t be turned back or off. Because it’s so bad now that even Basement Joe Biden is being yanked from his sedation cellar suite at an undisclosed location and forced to speak up against violence. That’s right. Violence. And just let that marinate. He’s being forced to speak against the obvious. That which every politician of the meagerest of note would clamor for and climb over anyone to get in front of a camera or Zoom session to speak the brutally obvious anent. The crystal clear reality of being against wanton violence. He was pulled from his increasingly frequent sunsets, made to face the crowd. Say something! Joe, say something coherent! Meanwhile the political nullity with steamer trunk emotional and political baggage, the unavailable and disconnected Carmen Harris utters through the shriek screech of cackle something that even her handlers can’t comprehend. Oh, you haven’t even heard anything about her yet. Anything that everyone knows, that is. And we’re not talking about the usual concupiscent stuff, but we’ll address that later.

So, think about this. The greatest country in history equipped with a remarkable Constitution in working order is now walking around, bumping into furniture as the election approaches: 64 days by my count. And since just last week since DJT’s triumphant appearance before one of the greatest stagecrafted events in modern political history, everything seems to have changed. The Demoncrats now realize that good polls don’t lie and the American public, get this, just might not be too crazy about rioting and looting and urban terror. And they may be further not too crazy about how Joey and Carmen have said virtually nothing about cities razed by BLM and Antifa thugs. And that begs the inquiry: How long did they think they could ignore everything before they sounded complicit? And let me throw in the additional glaring fact of how all of the cities that are exhibiting and witnessing this destruction all seem to be Demon-controlled.

Brass tacks time, kids. The polls show that Joe the Coot is nowheresville compared to the Oven Mitt Fashionista when comparing 2016 numbers. In fact, he’s way behind her and she lost. Remember? She lost even though polls showed her besting Trump by 7 points in some states the day of the election and (e.g. Wisconsin) 15+ points ahead at this time, lo those four years ago. And, let me remind you, Joey’s trailing. So they’re scared. Scared so much that you shouldn’t be surprised if Antifa and BLM shenanigans taper off instanter. But here’s the problem. Listen up.

Shock troops, brown shirts and thugs, oh my. They’re having too much fun to stop now. Keep the box lunch and the scratch, Georgie, this murder and mayhem stuff is a hoot and we’re not stopping, they intone. So demented are they and so off the skids that they’re even protesting at Portland Mayor Teddy Wheeler’s crib as well as the zombie who looks exsanguinated, Beetlejuice Lightweight, abogado of Mud City. This is the beauty of the event, patriots. The bad guys don’t know who their allies are and think everyone’s the enemy. Trump couldn’t have crafted anything groovier. And that’s where we are now. A country PO’d beyond measure and in no way inclined to blame Trump who’s been champing at the bit to send in the troops. Insurrection Act, baby. But what did Teddy and the Chi-Town cadaver say? No way. You couldn’t write a better scrip for reelection.

Start spreading the blues. And being in New York, I have to mention our benighted moonbat boy blunder, Mayor Wilhelm aka Bill de Blasio. Big Bird. The hyperglandular twit with a wife who took off with almost $1B as in billion for some fictional fictive mental health program no one can remember. Billy’s waiting on a vaccine and wants to be the last holdout by bleeding New York dry. I despise this man with every molecule of my being. He’s a traitor, a quisling and a seditionist. What he’s done to my city is incarceration-worthy. But we’ll see to that later.

Focus. In the meantime, focus on the election. Pray if you believe and hope our republic withstands the stress test. As that maniac Sal Dalí quipped, “What is important is to spread confusion, not eliminate it.”

Until the morrow. Grazie mille.

_________________________

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 1. Turn the police and military against the citizens for the slightest of transgressions to let them know that the last vestige of freedom they enjoyed has now been crushed under the bootheel of the statist gendarmerie. 

2. Employ the doctrine of learned helplessness to create in the public the inability to predict and understand clearly what is and is not permitted. Keep them constantly confused and frightened so that they submit completely and totally to the power and fist of the ruling class. 

3. Utilize the corporatist mainstream media to act as spokespersons for ruling class edicts and imprimaturs. Destroy what is left of the notion of journalism as a pesky and unnecessary vestige of meddlesome officiousness. Demand media compliance and use employment as leverage. 

4. Overwhelm the public with fear over the magical and mystical Chinese wondervirus, a putative pandemic that follows no course of logic or reason and has no historic counterpart whatsoever. Use fear as a cudgel and the unknown as your volume toggle. Scare them constantly. 

5. Create the myth that the American public has to ask permission from local bureaucrats to do and perform the simplest of behaviors. Demand that the public ask permission for everything. Reiterate and reinforce submission as the new normal. Strip them of initiative and hope. 

6. Sell the public the vaccine as the magical cure and the key to their freedom from this constraint and restraint. Repeat and reiterate the concept of vaccine as magic, elixir, potion and nostrum. In no time they will be lining up and demanding it, turning on those who question. 

7. The mask is the most important symbol of tyranny the public will mindlessly adopt, never realizing its reference. It represents the emergence of the American citizen as NPC robot and expendable. It destroys individuality and expression and humanity. It erases significance. 

8. Confuse the population by not having a clear delineation and demarcation of jurisdiction as to law and order and enforcement. Make city, county, state and federal jurisdictions and regulations confused and obscured. Obfuscate order and disorient the ability to comply lawfully. 

“It is an article of faith that there are no conspiracies in American life.” — Gore Vidal 

Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had it. The confusion and inconsistency in message. Disconnected and disconcerting warnings and directions. Turf battles and politicos vying for heralded status as the next 9/11 Rudy. NY’s Goober Guv Andrew Cuomo’s daily rants and raves about his Mama’s sausage and gravy and ventilators, that strange and impossible-to-place accented lilt that indicates roughly a cross between Queens and Zeta Reticili. I can’t stand it. Truly. I’m walking around like some sterile highwayman, masked and confused. Socially distant and detached, demented and delusional as I march about like a penned sheep. We’ve lost our soul, guts and backbone. Ball-less orchiectomized castrati, sad. No end in sight. And as they say on QVC, but wait . . . there’s more.
 
Tracked! You’ll be forced under penalty of law and with the tantalizing promise of freedom to take an unknown, barely-tested vaccine currently under development by and from self-appointed Vaccine Emperor Bill Gates. But you’ll be so fecking desperate to regain your life and salary and freedom, you’ll do anything. But this isn’t just some usual vaccine. Oh, no siree, Bucko. Nope, this will be administered along with a quantum dye dot via microneedle. But it’s not to track you, no way, Hose B. It’s to allow record-keeping for those poor unfortunates who misplace vaccine docs. That’s all. No big deal. Take off the tin foil chapeau, Sparky. And once your hit with this any health official or cop or whatever will be able to give you the once-over via smartphone app to determine if you’re in compliance. Er, for your own good. Nothing nefarious here. Please. Put down the 1984, Mr. Blair.
 
It’s good for you, right? This is about medicine and sickness and plague and pestilence and pandemics and destruction and death and, you know. So enough with your usual dystopian rants and raves. Vaccines are good and great and healthy. You don’t think polio just up and left on its own accord, now do you? And by the way, we’re sick of that civil libertarian pap. You should thank Billy Gates for his tireless work to fund factories that’ll be working 24/7 cranking out vaccine dosages to the entire world, that’s 7.6B . . . BILLION! Oh, and I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s because of some profit motive or control or distraction or something. You always look a gift horse in the mouth. You just can’t be compliant and pliant and obeisant and grateful. You always have to bring up this liberty business and it’s getting old. Look, if you want to spend years of forevers trapped up in your crib looking like some crazed scrub nurse that’s your business. The world wants out and will take and do and dance and sing anything. Got it. Now, let us out of here!
 
I never thought the news could get worse. But it has. Dear Gawd, it’s unwatchable. Unlistenable. Horrid. Dreck. And what’s worse is that as it’s being filmed and taped and broadcast from homes and basements and kitchens and rumpus rooms, we can see for the first time just how talentless these children are. Unfunny, untalented and unimaginative. Please, I beg you. Just watch 20 seconds of this most recent SNL and your jaw will drop. Then switch over to FoxNews, the official chloroquine network, and hear the umpteenth commercial for the magic elixir. Then pull your hair out. Or you can watch local news that’s actually better (or less tortuous). Watching the goofy weatherman at his breakfast nook explaining rain. Then watch Betty Boop read the news off her iPad, rocker and meds after she did her own hair and makeup and then watch the poor bastard in sports explain . . . not really sure what as there’s no sports.
 
You can’t watch press conferences. The height of torture. The best so far. Hands down. NJ Governor Phil Murphy and state Health Commissioner Judy Persichilli are superb. He just last month had a cancerous tumor removed from his kidney and I’m sure should be finding less stressful ways to mend. But he’s been magnificent. And the worst? The benighted NYC manchild moonbat ditz, “Big Bird” Billy D.B. leftie libturd ditz and socialist wannabe twit. Beyond horrible. Doomsayer. Cassandra. I despise him. Almost as much as I despise CV19.
 
Hey, CV Nineteen. The Cuervo gold. The fine Colombian. Not this time, Sparky. Things are different. And here’s the catch and the point. Nothing’s changing or advancing or will until they get that vaccine out. Whenever there’s a chloroquine advance or trial, Fauci marches up on orders and drops a new turd into the punchbowl. Like magic and clockwork. Or he threatens that the virus will go dormant, denatured and cold and then BOOM! Back again. (Hurry up with the vax, Billy! I’m running out of excuses.) Think about it. Oh, and don’t try to find the news paralleling reality. We live near the USNS Comfort and if there are sick folks being transported there, they must be transported telepathically or via Stark Trek transport because the entry gate is dead. A few cops in riot gear here. Some jarheads there. And don’t bring up the Javits Center down the street. Over 3K beds with how many there? 50? Maybe. Oh, and this while reports scare the B. Jesus out of folks with stories of trenches dug, makeshift graves, battle scene shots reminiscent of Gettysburg or Antietam. Refrigerated trucks with stiffs cooled, stacked and packed. Screaming, crying and frenetic health workers and nurses screaming into videos begging for the horror to stop. While other hospitals showcase cutesy TikTok reviews of dancing workers with balloons shoved down scrubs channeling Carmen Miranda.
 
Notice the disconnect? That’s the point. Distraction, distortion all to keep you off balance and off kilter. And they’re doing a hell of a job. Oh, and if you dare to even suspect or mention or hint at 5G connections, nano-tagging, vaccine adjuvant horrors . . . anything not within the script, your message is gone. Because that’s a conspiracy theory. Translation: True. Or embarrassing. So, how’s your land of freedom holding out?
 
Join us. As we’ve now been ordered homebound and shut in, sheltered in place, locked down, quarantined, buttoned up and on the verge of stir-crazy, remote viewing takes on an entirely new concept. And I’ll bet you’ve heard every importuning and entreating invitation to join the latest iteration in humanity via Zoom (be careful, patriots), Skype and the like. Well, one more’s not going to kill you. Thrice daily we meet in our YouTube LiveStream to chat and conviviate and I invite you to join us anon! Forthwith and instanter. You needn’t say anything. You can just read the streams and screams and comments and analyses that sometimes resemble nothing cognizable in the real world. But it’s addictive. Seriously. And just what the doctor ordered.
 
So follow these basics to join. Watch our quotidian LiveStream thrice daily. 

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Until the morrow.

“Everything excellent is as difficult as it is rare.”
     ― Baruch Spinoza 

Join us. As we’ve now been ordered homebound and shut in, sheltered in place, locked down, quarantined, buttoned up and on the verge of stir-crazy, remote viewing takes on an entirely new concept. And I’ll bet you’ve heard every importuning and entreating invitation to join the latest iteration in humanity via Zoom (be careful, patriots), Skype and the like. Well, one more’s not going to kill you. Thrice daily we meet in our YouTube LiveStream to chat and conviviate and I invite you to join us anon! Forthwith and instanter. You needn’t say anything. You can just read the streams and screams and comments and analyses that sometimes resemble nothing cognizable in the real world. But it’s addictive. Seriously. And just what the doctor ordered.
 
So follow these basics to join.

• This is the LionelNation YouTube Channel. Click here.
• Subscribe to the channel.
• This is the LiveStream link. Click here.
• For information and data and the like as to managing YouTube notifications, click here.
• At 8AM, 2PM and 8PM ET we meet. So join up, join in, sign in and click the alert bell so you’ll be notified of future live streams, new videos and pertinent miscellany.
• Again, if you have successfully signed up you’ll be notified when we’re live. And you’re aces.

I host, post, toast and roast for the most but’ll never coast, yes, boast, double-dosed as ghost. And no, I have no earthly idea what this means. But you’re invited to watch the number of real time, drive time, live time, live feed citizens from all over the world (literally) move in, stand up and weigh in on more topics and views that you could never possibly imagine.

This ain’t you’re father’s talk radio. In fact, talk radio is to this what Al Martino is to microsurgery.

You’re welcome.
 
It’s war. From the COVID bowels of NYC I write you. Pick the area of focus and be wowed and cowed. Never have so many heretofore-thought fundamental American rights been under attack and in question as they are now. The most basic and elemental Constitutional provisions will soon go the way of the spittoon unless courts, who are on suspended animation recess, speak up and strike down laws and rules which may traverse basic rights. In the UK there’s now talk of going into homes and removing forcibly family members who are showing COVID19  symptoms in “fear” that they’ll infect innocent family members. Think about that. And remember, whatever they do as in the UK, we’re next.  
 
But wait, there’s more. And on top of the aforesaid ConLaw questions and concerns there’s the monumentally dreary, dire and dour world of New York City COVID19 recapture (as in normalcy). Say what you want, call it what you desire, this is the most unbelievable manifestation of existence right now. The feelings are inexplicable and indefinable and no one knows what’s going to happen next. Or who’s in charge. Outside our window is the USNS Comfort berthed with either few or no patients. Try about 60. Why? Then the Javits Center down the road boasted 1100+ hospital beds and equipment and no one’s sure how many are even there, if at all. (Maybe 225.) Yet we’re hit with pictures of refrigerated trucks to cart away the dearly departed. Then there are the drone shots of prisoners digging tombs for the death overflow.
 
Meanwhile mainstream media are spinning their wheels and teetering between either scaring people inconceivably to ignoring the entire event through fluff and nonchalance. This case is ripe for cogent, serious and tough analysis and discussion.

And that’s why we invite you to the LionelNation YouTube Channel LiveStream.

Until the morrow.

Yes we’re gonna have a wingding
A summer smoker underground
It’s just a dugout that my dad built
In case the reds decide to push the button down
We’ve got provisions and lots of beer
The key word is survival on the new frontier

New Frontier (Donald Fagen)

 
“So, what do you think this is all about? You know, this COVID19 business. What’s your take? Who’s behind it?”
 
And it all starts with that. And what follows are some of the most mind-blowing hypotheses and theories as to causation and transmission imaginable and contrivable. Name the cause or country or faction. And there’s a theory. With no facts. No data. No idea as to why this particular vector of truth or platform of plausibility is even accepted for a moment. China, Chinese wet markets, bats, pangolins, Bill Gates, 5G, Event 201, Obama, DARPA, HAARP, Agendas 21 and 2030, the UN, Soros, Hollyweird, Codex Alimentarius, Tom Hanks, Deep State, Intel State, Police State, Satan, the Vatican and God’s wrath. And I’m in no wise ruling any of that out as a possibility.
 
Then there’s the WHY. Social engineering, cashless society, vaccines, chipping, RFID tags, “culling” and thinning the herd, depopulation, eugenics, martial law, the destruction of the Constitution, the fomenting of civil unrest and war and a New World Order. And, again, I’m in no wise ruling any of that out as a possibility.
 
But it’s not nature or disease modalities or just a virological version of SHITE HAPPENS. Nope. It’s something more sinister and nefarious and diabolical and dangerous and underhanded and international in theory. Why? Because the idea of something this destructive and eschatological and existential in its wrath and wake is out of the question. Look, if we’re going to implode and dissolve as a species give us a better reason than some goofy virus went all David Banner on us and evolved from Wuhan guano or pangolin scales. Certainly a species as great and noble and cool as we humans cannot be devastated by something so happenstance and ordinary and, frankly, boring. And look, I’m not saying in any wise that there’s no possibility that the aforementioned are off the possibility table, I’m just saying we (especially) Americans need something that makes sense. And randomness never works. That’s unacceptable. And impossible.
 
I know people who are losing their minds as they’ve no locus of control, no ability to predict or have a say in what’s happening. Helplessness. That’s the feeling. And I’m not mocking or chiding in any way anyone in the throes of terror but let me say that as the level of fear and desperation and unknown increases, I’m hearing stuff that’s astounding.
 
And why shouldn’t people be losing their minds? Our Ted Baxter American news media are at the bottom of the phylogenetic tree. They’re simply the worst. Underpaid sloths who have no idea of the separation of news and fact from opinion and spin and slant and bias and politics. Online MSM platforms are used to feeding the voracious maw of the online monster. The runaway train. And they will fuel it and stoke the fire with anything that’s bleak, horrid and dour. If it bleeds it leads is the mantra. The credo. The standard. It’s all they know. And what they do is fan the fires and fears and paranoia of the understandably scared shiteless.
 
Remember, there’s much that you can do. In addition to the usual precautions and remedies you must, Must, MUST, MUST, MUST, MUST, MUST! limit and self-quarantine from these fear merchants. Yes, keep up on facts and warnings and developments but turn that shïtę off immediately. It’s horrible.
 
I just heard a local talk radio group run a promo, sweeper, intro piece that sounded like a 70s BossRadio throwback to days of bore yore. The first casualty of pandemics is class and perspective. An eerie synth with a puker basso?! And they wonder why radio’s on the ropes. Even in the midst of a pandemic Dr. Johnny Fever just can’t get out of the schtick.
 
And since everyone’s talking about masks. Let me clarify something. Wear the goddamn mask! Anything you have. Do it. There’s nothing to stop you. Wear a sock over your head, a nice tube sock design with eye slits. Modify a balaclava. Go full-tilt Bazooka Joe. Wear a woodchuck helmet for all I care. But whatever you do STOP TALKING ABOUT MASKS! For the love of Gawd, stop. This isn’t news, it’s rehash and regurgitated dreck. There’s no science to review. There’s no sudden reconsideration. Hey, Fauci, make up your mind. What, are you and Oz in a fight to the death for COVID media sweetheart status? And you wonder why I won’t watch MSM sputum. Cops won’t arrest you because your sans mask. They’re a little busy. Wake up. Grow up. 
 
Think of the families who’ve canceled weddings, christenings and funerals. FUNERALS! Elderly patients who die alone. Quarantined and left to their last breaths of life in solitary. The stories are horrific. And they’re bitching about masks?!
 
Friends, be focused. Stay in the moment. Think.
 
Until the morrow.

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.