Horoscopes Debunked & Where Tony Disappears Every Night
I must correct something I wrote the other day about Virginia Governor Ralph Northam saying Phase One partial reopening would last two years. Northam didn’t say that. It was State Health Commissioner Norman Oliver.
Gov. Northam is actually seeking ways Virginia can reopen much sooner. But I think any state doing this flirts with disaster, and I want no part of it. It presumes people don’t move around. Sure, go ahead and open one county in the sticks that’s had no infections. But as soon as an asymptomatic city boy makes a road trip to visit the folks, Grandma’s suddenly having a horrible death and you’re back to Square One.
It’s like they don’t remember how this stinking virus gets around: it travels. Unless they order anyone who might be infected (i.e., everyone) not to go anywhere, they risk starting another wave.
Short of a medical breakthrough (which would take months, if not years, to fully distribute even if it happened yesterday) I don’t see a quick and easy way out, no matter what Trump wishes. It’s getting pretty depressing.
If you read a newspaper, did you notice how it took a few weeks for the comics to catch up with current events? They probably had strips already in the pipeline, but now Dilbert’s in self-quarantine. One comic that seems oblivious to COVID is Marmaduke, probably because he’s a dog. But I worry about Garfield because his owner Jon is dumb enough to catch it.
Meanwhile, horoscope writers have been outed as fakes. Mine keeps going on about getting together with family and friends and taking trips. I stopped reading and I’ll never go back.
Somehow the Richmond Times-Dispatch sports section is still longest, most in-depth part of the paper EVERY DAY when almost no sports are being played. The world’s at near-standstill, economies are tanking, governments (all but ours) are frantic, yet the intrepid RTD staff keeps churning out reams of sports “news” like it matters. Why?
In cat news, Max graciously volunteered to stand morning watch in my office…
Tony contributes this factoid about himself today. Most nights after his dinner, he hangs around long enough to see if Max will command me to fetch treats, then he evaporates. I find him sacked out on my bed…
He wakes up raring to go at about 9 p.m….
But that’s when the rest of us are winding down, so he watches a little tube and then comes to bed again. An evening nap doesn’t give him insomnia.