UNDER COVID, PT.2: THE CLAMP DOWN

50? Try the entire town.

How time flies! When we last chatted, all New Yorkers had to worry about was making sure they had enough bathroom supplies, fusilli, and Eskimo Pies. 

Then yesterday, over the course of just a few hours, we learned that our schools are now closed until April 20, if not through the end of the school year; all theaters are shuttered for the foreseeable future; restaurants will be closed except for take-out orders; and bars are shut down entirely. It's up to us, then, to do our panic drinking in the privacy of our homes.

A reporter on last night's 6:00 news mentioned something about all qualified students being given tablets. Initially, I thought they were talking about Xanax, which would be expected. What he was really talking about were iPads and the like, in order to start online classes from home beginning next Monday. Ironic that it might be harder to skip school when you're stuck in your bedroom.

When Edward G. Robinson asks,"Where's your Messiah now?"
the reply is, "In the White House!"

On the religious side of things, the New York Catholic Archdiocese has shut down all its houses of worship, which kind of makes you wonder how just how strong their faith is. C'mon, guys! Prove your mettle by getting together and praying! No need for coronavirus testing kits.

Our block, which tends to be fairly quiet anyway, has been near-silent for several days. After 8:00 p.m., you could play bocce in the middle of the street and never have to get out of the way of any passing cars, except those racing out to the Hamptons, where the 1% can watch from safety the riots they're expecting -- the same people who last Friday cleared one Midtown bank of all its $100 bills. The revolution might not be televised, but it will be streamed on your iPhone.

How quiet is it? The scam robocalls stopped last Thursday -- the day of the biggest Wall Street drop since Herbert Hoover was president -- and haven't resumed since. Even the crooks have been affected by COVID-19! 

How long before I repeat my legendary role
as news cameraman?

TV and movie production have been suspended for, what, two weeks? Two months? Six? Nobody knows. And just as I was to start a juicy gig that would have taken me to the end of the month -- 10 days of work, now gone. The biggest takeaway from this is how few emails I receive over the course of the day when my source of employment shuts down. I'm starting to miss those robocalls after all.

City officials are forever asking, Have you been in contact with anyone who has been diagnosed with COVID-19? This is New Friggin' York! Population roughly eight and a half million people! Of course we've been in contact, even if it's by seven degrees of unwitting separation. Every time I return from errands, I wash my hands for 20 seconds before rinsing them. By the time this COVID business is over, my epidermis should be completely peeled away.

Last Friday's grocery shopping expedition. Kind of like how it was previously, only worse.

My wife at the end of the
workday.

As with many full-time employees at her company, my wife is working from home this week. (Call it "work distancing"). In fact, she's sitting across from me at the kitchen table as I write this. And since she's in the health-related business, she'll be working at 200 MPH for roughly 10 hours every day. 

Needless to say, this is cramping my style. Sure I can still do laundry and clean the apartment. But blasting '60s psych-pop or Gilbert Gottfried's podcast while doing so? Or catching up with Better Call Saul while eating breakfast? Not a chance. My wife might be in a t-shirt, capris and bare feet at home, but she might as well be in her office wearing her best work clothes. The operational word is SHADDAP!

Forty-eight hours ago, I was under the impression that the COVID crisis had peaked in New York, and things would go back to normal within a week. Prognostication, then, is not my strong suit. My wife, closer to the front lines, believes it will be more like May before it starts to recede... until early winter when, like the flu, it will be on the rise again. The manufacturers of toilet paper, Ritz Crackers, and Clorox are licking their lips in anticipation. 

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