One hundred thousand dead. Out of a national population of approximately 320,000,000. Or, expressed another way, an overall fatality rate of 0.0003125 percent.
Oh, Dear God, you shouldn’t have let me see this, NPR, because while I never felt at risk before today, I sure the hell do now. In fact, I not only feel “at risk,” I feel as if death is almost imminent. I’ve been thinking about the fact lately that I haven’t updated my Living Trust in years, so I guess I need to do that right away. I also need to remember to add a DNR in the event that I’m ever exposed to … oh Lord, I can’t even bring myself to say its name!
I also need to leave instructions for my neighbors for after my death –assuming, that is, that they aren’t all stricken before I am– on how to put the dogs and the cat down and what articles of my estate they can help themselves to that haven’t been contaminated by my … cooties of that thing I can’t bring myself to name. Then again, since we’ve all been “social distancing” for so long, I’m not even sure my neighbors remember who I am anymore.
I don’t care what they do with my mortal remains. Since I will have succumbed to the dreaded … Oh, God, PLEASE don’t make say its name! … they will probably be so contaminated that whoever stumbles across them will either just set my house on fire so that the body burns with it, quarantine the house and leave it derelict until my remains decay away, or just leave the doors to the house open and let the desert wildlife wander in and consume my corpse. At some point thereafter some tweakers will probably take the place over and turn it into one of the meth labs for which Southern Arizona is famous (which means that it will eventually still burn down, just by accident instead of by arson).
Meanwhile I’m going to keep my nose and mouth wrapped in cellophane at all times. That will ensure that if any damned virus kills me, it’s going to have one bloody hell of a time getting into my lungs. None of those flimsy masks for feeriker, nosirfreakinee. And those exposure suits that biochem technicians wear while handling samples? I’ll be donning one that won’t leave my body till the day it’s found after that one pesky little virus penetrates the one microscopic chink in my facial and body armor that I stupidly overlooked (got what you deserved, you careless bastard!).
When out in public I will, from here on out, demand a TWO HUNDRED YARD separation distance between me and any other human being, will mercilessly berate others around me for wearing flimsy cloth masks and medical gloves rather than airtight cellophane facial protection and full decontaminant body armor, and will physically assault anyone NOT wearing any form of facial or body protection. Desperate times call for desperate measures! These people, I have now come to realize, are EXTREMELY dangerous agents of the denier faction who DO.NOT.CARE that a staggering .0003125 percent of their fellow citizens have been wiped out. Their failure to protect themselves would KILL me if it were not for my maximum strength facial and body protection. I will therefore call the police and DEMAND that they be charged with felony assault and also quarantined, for their protection as well as mine.
I know that there are many, many more things I have to do to prepare for the end and get myself and my affairs in order. Alas, NPR has me so wracked with panic that I can’t think straight. I know that they are simply being honest with us and doing their best to feed us the hard truth that we must face, no matter how painful it is. But DAMN THEM, don’t they care for our feelings?! Don’t they know that they’ve changed what little is left of my life FOREVER, that I will spend those few days, weeks, or, if God has mercy on me, months dreading each day, rather than savoring its beauty? Do they think any of us relish the idea of being remembered as 0.0003126 percent, the guy who moved the statistic upward by a notch?
Anyway, enough about me, and please forgive the sudden change in me. Also, expect what little content that appears in this blog in my last days to be considerably more serious and reflective of life’s deeper philosophical and Scriptural questions, ones that I hope to have answered before this plague carries me home to be with Jesus. If you choose to depart this blog in search of more lighthearted fare, I’ll understand.
Be safe, and don’t let that dreadful death rate figure stick in your head and give you nightmares or thoughts of the Death Angel heading for your doorstep. Just follow my lead on cellophane, decontaminant body armor, and plenty of hand soap and toilet paper and you’ll kick that ol’ Death Angel’s arse all the way back to Wuhan.
Stay safe, guys! And again, kudos to NPR for sounding the alarm that no one else will, even as death stares them right in the face!