I’m out. Not of my mind but the bullshit.

I’m washing my hands of this pandemic. No pun intended.

This trumped-up overhyped overkill — no pun intended — suspiciously timed to upend a strong president and economy. All so very clear (to thinking rational attentive folks).

My head was buried in reading, research and examining “all things pandemic” when this exploded on the scene a month ago. As usual, I was ahead of the curve in thought, awareness and self-education. I arrived at my own conclusions early on and have not wavered from what I know to be true or in any way bought into panic, fear and unreason.

Once this thing quickly took over like an insane miserable wildfire, fanned by the media, I was already done and out.

There is no vaccine for Media Saturation.

Including social media.

In the pandemic’s early days, I enjoyed a good reading run on Twitter. Enjoyed not only the “sciencey” intellectual opinions and insights by credible sources but the spirit of community that erupted.

Some clever, many creative, some downright crazy responses and posts on Twitter.

How to beat boredom. Crazy animal stunts. The Top 100 Movies to Watch in Lockdown. How to Cook a Meal with 5 Ingredients. What This Lockdown Taught Me: I Can’t Stand My Spouse and Want a Divorce. Like NOW!

And of course a zillion sarcastic or silly memes involving toilet paper.

Remember toilet paper, folks? Remember in the days of yore when it EXISTED in abundance on shelves everywhere?! … before the Goblins of Greed scurried in, snatched up rolls by the hundreds and sold it on eBay for 20 bucks a pop or outside of the backs of their vans?

BTW, I’ve not seen a single roll ANYWHERE for more than a month. And I live in Phoenix, (population 5+ million) so that “ANYWHERE” is fucking sprawled! I’ve given up.

I do still look for it … more for potential shock value than need. But if SHOCK OF SHOCKS I ever do come across any, I’ll pick up the Limit 1 Package to donate. My heart just bleeds for the elderly and disabled in this nest of wasps that is called a pandemic.

But finally reading even the “Best of Twitter” — is there such a thing?! — the amusing, uplifting and positive posts, pix and vids of people doing amazing GOOD, stories of first responders and delivery drivers and individuals doing whatever it takes to protect their small businesses and  every human being working retail  …. bless ’em all! … became exhausting.

I Am Saturated by a Shrewd Stunt.

I’m out.

Nothing to do but wait for Things to Come to Light — and they shall. Already are. The natives are growing restless. Pushback in a ridiculous unnecessary shutdown of an entire country for what is basically a flu is now unfolding.

Fractures are developing and the cracks widening. Heads will start rolling, you watch.

People exhausted by this unnaturally cramped-down tamped-down economy and life will begin rebelling and revolting in a myriad of ways.

They already are but it’s gonna really ramp up in the next couple weeks. Gonna get ugly in some places. Mark my words. Guns will come out. Shots — even if rubber bullets or tear-gas canisters — will be fired.

As for me outside of public pandemonium … when even substantive online reading and “the Best of Twitter” and favorite talk-radio shows no longer satisfied or downright irritated and inflamed my impatience with Stupidities and Sheeple, I gravitated to more satisfying human endeavors:

  • Listening to music on Pandora
  • Journaling consistently (not having done so is my bad)
  • Walking regularly (due to gym’s closure)
  • Watching Netflix at night (no change in routine)

Strictly limiting — even curtailing  –my time online (including beloved talk radio) and tuning out pandemic topics is an important necessary respite and escape from an otherwise CONSUMING madness.

Plus I’m damn sick of the media spin. (And I can really say that as one who got a Bachelor of Journalism degree from the nation’s best School of Journalism back in the 1970s when journalism was still journalism! Those days are long gone.)

I’m ahead of the curve, as usual, like I said.

Thus having removed myself from the fray, all I can do is wait for (1) the mayhem to ensue — the rebellions, “civil disobedience” as people break imposing (and unconstitutional) rules especially in liberal-infested New York and California  … and (2) the mayhem of this manufactured pandemic to die down.

My goal, nee recipe for sanity, is to remain as unaffected by this Shit Storm that I neither created nor participate in (only am impacted by as we all are).

Quality time engaged in quality activities that have little to do with “news” … “pandemic” … “deadly virus” … “infections count” … “lockdown” … “stay-at-home orders” … “hoarding”  … “toilet paper” … {fill-in-the-Covid-related-word} …

The blowback’s comin’, folks!

It’s already happening but it’s gonna grow from a gentle ripple to a tsunami very quickly and very soon as people increasingly wake up … realizing not only that they’ve been duped big time! … but above all one cannot tamp-down life / Life.

The vital Life Force cannot be contained — not without severe destructive consequences and fortunately we’re not a miserable Communist country (yet!). (See North Korea for examples.)

That’s what I’ve got today. Things are about to get really ugly, alarming, even disturbing and frightening to Sheeple who have bowed to the (human) powers that be.

Next two weeks shall be interesting, very interesting indeed. So hold onto your horses! Just keep one hand on the reins and the other on your adult beverage of choice.

Mine happens to be hoppy IPAs. Cheers to all that we love in these dark times!

Trellis Falls IPA

Trellis Falls Hazy IPA – by Modern Times Brewery, San Diego



Meeting My Maker? Nah. My Manna.

Do you remember that very special birthday present you got as a child?

One that was a real surprise, not one you nagged for week after week. Coulda been anything … teddy bear … an article of clothing … a train set … a sketchpad with colored pencils … a bracelet … a rock ‘n’ roll album … pair of Keds … endless are the possibilities.

As a share, for me it was my first diary, hardbound in presumably faux brown leather, with “Diary” in cursive gold print.

Best of all, it had a little lock with a little key! A key that I assure you never got lost! Even as a child, I was extraordinarily meticulous and organized. It’s the German in me.

The diary was a total surprise. I was at the perfect age for one too (early adolescence). Even if the tag read “from mom and dad,” my mother, I’m certain, was behind it. We had a truly horrible traumatizing relationship indeed. Yet I must give credit where it is due. She had a real knack with gifts. Her gift was the ability to give spot-on thoughtful gifts.

I digress. Back to the question. Do you remember that surprising birthday present?

That’s what I experienced — albeit in muted fashion — yesterday.

I saw … for the first time … in 1-1/2 weeks … in any of some 10 stores I’ve been frequenting, some daily …  {drum roll} …

YES!! YESSSS! YESSSS! {insert Meg Ryan’s infamous orgasmic scene from “When Harry Met Sally}


Here, I’ll show you the (not-award-winning) snapshot so’s you can see for yourself the sight that stopped me dead in my tracks:


Boxes of Tissues. Witnessed for First Time in 10 Days. Recorded: March 26, 2020.

That, my friends, is: tissue.

Boxes of tissues!

Not just one brand but several brands and price ranges to pick from!

As you can see, the shelves were fairly stripped bare already, no argument there. Still. There were SOME! Blog-worthy!

Meanwhile, for full disclosure, the adjoining toilet paper shelves remain as barren as I’ve seen them also for the past 10 days (and growing).


Toilet Paper Used to Reside Here. It’s Since Been Relocated By the Human Hands of Greed. Recorded March 26, 2020.

I saw boxes of tissues!!! You’d think I’d spotted Yeti!

I studied those tags, price per unit, etc.etc. etc.  in a manner unprecedented for (1) one box of tissue and (2) an inherently careful comparison shopper.

Sorta like buying an iPhone! I wouldn’t waltz in and grab the first one that catches my eye. I research. Study. Break down. Discern. Decipher. Calculate. Meticulous Thinking German me.

I chose wisely. I chose well.

And — hear me, world — I chose one box. O-N-E.

1. 1. 1 1 1 1 1 1. ONLY ONE.

I could have taken 2 boxes — the store’s posted limit.


If more’s needed down the road, I’ll take my chance, roll the dice.

My rage at the greed, hoarding, blatant unfettered SELFISHNESS could set the universe ablaze. So I won’t venture there. Suffice it to say that reasons why I hate people are on full 24/7 display.

I walked the half-mile home last night with precisely two items in the bag: a container of ice cream (mistake) and one box of tissue.

I’ll be honest. I wondered what might happen if someone knew I was carrying … and by carrying, I do mean tissues, not heroin.

Hopefully you’ve seen the pix and vids of what people are doing to one another for coveted paper products … the assaults … arguments … fights … glass from a broken bottle in a store held against customers … so’s I don’t hafta explain this mad, mad, mad, mad world.

I arrived home safely. Opened that tissue box with indeed the care and attention I give a gift received.

Pulled a single sheet, whoooooosh! Two came out. I pushed the second sheet back in. Set the box in a place of prominence so I may enjoy its presence.

My single box holds 80 tissues. Each sheet I shall use over and over and over in thrift and mindfulness. I know, so know how to survive in lack and hardship.

I shall say: It is a true pleasure, this single box of tissues.

For what you don’t know in this story — and now shall — is that it’s now high-pollen season here in Phoenix / southern Arizona.

And though I’m not typically allergies-prone, the stuff — from pollens to pollution — in this desert metro sprawl are murderous.

I make due with little to nothing. That’s my nature (survive). My childhood damage. So using rough ‘n’ rugged paper towels as I’ve been doing for blazing allergy symptoms is no biggie.

But a TISSUE on a nose turned raw in this gawd-awful pollens-polluted Phoenix! … what luxury! Soooo soft! It’s manna, man! It. Is. Manna!

Meet My Manna in a Box:


There Is No Heaven. But There Is Manna in My Studio. Recorded March 27, 2020

Then, for a giggle, meet my other Manna in a Box … manna that nobody’s hoarding, stealing, price-gouging, selling on eBay for the price of a monthly mortgage. Give thanks to our blessings where we have them:


Merlot is Manna Too