Ah Nada Ting


Yeah, I Said A Prayer This Morning – It Was Way Too Long – I Rambled On, Adlibbing, About Everything And A Little Bit Of Nothing To Mix It Up.

Started With It’s Been Awhile.  Not Much, How About You?  Eventually, Got To The Part About Thanks … Segued To Forgiveness.  Then I Exhaled.

“After The Mumbling Interlude-cum-Conjunction In-The-Middle Of My Soliloquy, I Chatted About The World’s Situation – I Didn’t Use The Word ‘Crisis’ Because That Seemed Like I Was Blaming Him (I Wasn’t), And I Also Wasn’t In Any Mood To Hear Talk Of Armageddon, Biblical Rapture Or End Of Times – And, Other Stuff Happening Closer To My Earthly Home.”

I’m Pretty Sure I Got Through To Him.  I’ve Been Fortunate That Way.  Counting My Blessings Before They Were Hatched.  Confused?  You’ll Never Be If When In His Grace.



Global Meditation / Virtual Sit-In / Kumbaya Gumby Jambalaya Thingy … Apparently, It Was A Papal-Anointed Spiritual Hook-Up @ 8 PM.  How’d That Go?

I Read It In A Blog.  Got A Text.  Probably, Perused Through It On-Line Next To The Click Bait On PopSugar About The Latest Grooming Trends For Hipster Shih Tzu’s …

“Wasn’t Feeling It.  I Was Feeling Shitty.  To Be Vague …”  

… Earlier In The Afternoon, I Started To Come Down With The Sniffles.  Nasal Drippy.  Sore Throat.  Slight Cough.  Head’s Raised.



Going Around … I’m Not Alone.

Not Sure – Yet – If Whatever’s Entered My Delicate System Is In The Precursory Stages Of The Predatorial Virus Disrupting Our Fabulous Lives.

Or, Just The Common Head Cold.  Something More Sinister?  Taking Chances Of Contaminating My Office – Place Of Workship – And Spreading It To Other Innocent Folks Isn’t My Thing.

“So, I Packed Up My Pretty Self, Slapped The Laptop Over My Shoulder, And Feeling Kinda Bolder … Headed Back To The Grotto.  Hunkered Down.  Exhaled.”



Is A Time Out: A Pause For Prayer, Self-Enlightenment And Spoiling Ourselves With Goodness … Perhaps, A Trickle Of Humanity Unleashed To Gain Back Our Senses About What’s Real, What’s Wrong … A Forum For Free-Thought.

And, A Smattering Of Hugs & Kisses – Digital Social Distancing-Approved – A Shared Expression Of Our Collective Souls Warming Together.  No Obligation To Participate.  Or, Reciprocate.

With Love Of All Things Beautiful, Plus A Side Serving Of Curiosity …

“Groin-Scratching … ‘What-The-Fuckery’ … Is Really Going On? “



Is What I’m Getting – This Friday And Next Monday – Repeat The Following Week

“Another Day-And-A-Half Is What I’m Taking … Working From Home.”

So, It’s Lungo Doppio Weekend’s, Darlings.

Not Complaining.



Employing Me – And A Bunch Of Other Friendlies – Is Closing Operations.

Full.  Shut.  Down.


To The 5-Day Rhythm Of Close-Open-Open-Open-Close.  Cha, Cha, Ching.



(Occasionally) Battling The Spread Of COVID-19 …

“Of Course, That’s Exactly What It Takes To Defeat The Dirty Bastard Bug.  One On.  Three Off.  One On.” 

This Catchy Beat Confuses The Virus.  It Doesn’t Know If The Host Vessels Is Coming Into Port Or Setting Sail.  Eventually, It Gets Bored, Gives Up And Looks Elsewhere To Snack On Fresh Meat Or Tofu’d Bods.  

Now, How The World Health Organization And The Centers For Disease Control And Prevention Missed The Obvious Fix Brings Into Question …



I Haven’t A Clue …  And, I’m Not The Only One Loitering In Limbo … 

My Big Guess: By Working, Keeping Non-Essential Businesses Moving And Fluid, We’re Saving Jobs.  A Good Thing.  Over The Long Term.

On The Obvious Side: Jobs Provide Income.  Income To Spend On Food.  Food To Feed People.  People To Feed The Virus.  Viruses Love Them Crowds To Mingle And Sprinkle.

“The Circle Jerk Of Life, Simba.  Work-To-Live.  Live-To-Work.  Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho?”

Its A Rough Ride.  Not Enviable.  For Those Making The Hard Decisions.



Of Course, He’s A Doug … A Real True-To-Life, Diggity …  

He’s The Adorable Premier Of The Province Of Ontario In Canada – Similar To A Governor In America, But Less Sexy If That’s Possible (It Is And I Have Evidence) – Whom Declared A State Of Emergency On St. Patrick’s Day.  Mr. Ford’s A Provocateur Of Oblivious Obvious In The Simplistic Stylings Of:

“No Shit, Sherlock.”

His Message – In My Self-Righteous Opinion – Was Delivered With Every Ounce Of Ous He Could Muster In Vile Political-Speak:  Disingenuous.  Unctuous.  Ungracious. 



None Of DuFo’s Consulting Reams Of Slacky Lackeys – Compensated Sycophantic Enablers Of Cabinet Misfits – Actually Had A Fucking Clue To The Definition Of An Emergency, Pandemically-Speaking.

Pro-Tip #1 When Public Servants Speak In Public:  Please Shut Up When You Open Your Mouth.  Your Big Boy Word’s Are Not Comforting.  And, Not Helping Much.

At Least Not When It Comes To Potentially Saving Lives.

“Because Making The Economy A Priority Over The Health And Safety Of All … Should Not Be What This Is About, Dearest Satan.”



Come Again: Where Is The Cash $300 Million Financial Investment To Fight Against COVID-19Coming From?

And, Don’t You Dare Say, The Government Of Ontario.  Repeat After Me – Watch My Lips – From The Taxpaying Constituents.  

Fun Fact Confession: Ontario’s Population Is About 13.6 Million.  Minimum Wage Is $14.00 Per Hour.  Works Out To Be $22.09 Invested For Every Ontarian.  The Equivalent Of About 1-1/2 Hours Worked.  So, Wow.

About The Price Of A Polyblend ‘Sure-To-Pil’ Blanket From The People’s Republic Of Walmart.  Or, A Jumbo Pack Of Butter-Flavored Ass Wipe, Which We’re All Out Of.  If You Can’t Keep The Shelves Stocked With Essential Sanitary Supplies And 2-Ply Tree Bark, How In The Tarnation-of-Dickerydockdom Are You Going To Protect Ontarian’s?



Yes, There Are Plenty Of Smarty-Pants Robots Playing With Legos On The Factory Floors.  Automation.  Yadacetera … Up The Yin & Yang.

Don’t Worry.  This Bug Isn’t Going To Cause The Mortality Rate Of Non-Binary Artificial Intelligence To Increase.  I’m As Confused As The Dumb Machines Are With Politician-Grade Stupidity And Lifeless Rhetoric:

“Now, Instituting A Ban On The Gathering Of 50 Or More People In Public Places Is Obvious – Not Wise – Just Obvious … By Allowing 50 (And Considerably More) To Work-Side-By-Infectious Side In Factories Is Accomplishing What Exactly … When A Sizeable Number Have Taken Public Transit Together … You Savvy, My Diggity?”

No, I Heard You?  Okay, Right.  No More Spring Frolicking In The Streets.  But, Let’s Keep The Plants Running And Machines A Humming Because The Workers Gotta Work To Get Paid.  Yes, They Do.  Workers Gotta Make Things We’re Not Selling, Because No One Buys The Stuff We’re Making When They’re Busy Trying To Avoid Dooms Day.



We Were Lied To Moments Before We Were Shit On … About The Real Numbers In Wuhan?

“Yeah.  Bravo For The Conspiracy Cracker Jacks.  You Go, Darryl And Donnie.  Derek, Too.” 

Seems Obvious Now.  Frightening.  Mortifying.

This Ah Nada Ting Got Away From The Global Village Pretty Quick.



Create Your Own Domestic Biosphere … And, Sing Damn It … Sing On Your Porches And Balconies … 

“Make Friends With Hyenas.  Get Your Zombie On.  Resume Eating Gluten Immediately To Help Fight Infection.”

Stay Home.  Hydrate.  Peloton Your Ass To Level 42 To Ward Off The Real Enemy: Starchy Carbs On The Sofa.  Be Sure To Blame Netflix.  And, Adam Sandler.

Also, Make Papier-Mâché Effigies – From Your Overstocked Caché Of Toilet Paper, Bleached White Flour And Bottled Tap Water – To Burn And Smack Down At Your Next Piñata Bashing.


Image by Marc Pascual from Pixabay

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