Category: Coronavirus

Flag Poll

11/29/2020

“Shifty Don” finally got his wall, but it’s not at the southern border. Instead, it’s row upon row of fencing, barriers and barricades circumnavigating multiple blocks surrounding the White House. He’s built a fortress around the people’s home and the president’s basement bunker so that he can divide our nation even further. It is as shameful as it is sickening. My wife and I visited Washington, DC on Black Plague Friday, and I witnessed it firsthand. I wrote about it (along with information about DC's "Black Lives Matter Plaza") HERE.

While in DC, we also visited an artistic installation outside the DC Armory called “In America: How Could This Happen,” where small white flags (symbolic of Trump’s surrender?) have been planted in honor of each American killed by the Trump Virus.

In America, how could this happen? One reason, and one reason only. It's all due to the denial, deceit, dysfunction -- and total incompetence -- of Donald "Shifty Don" Trump, the Golfer-in-Chief. The moron who said this was all a hoax. The imbecile who said this would just vanish. The dotard who wanted to pack the churches on Easter. The dimwit who said, "I take no responsibility" and "It is what it is."

In tribute to the 230,000-plus deaths represented by the 230,000-plus flags, I have posted Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "Inconceivably solemn!" below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem with the same first line, below on the right.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Inconceivably solemn!
Things so sad
Placed – by the very Press
Of Imagery –

They’re so arrayed -- order on the eye
With a mute Pomp –
A pleading Pageantry –

Flags, a somber sight –
And no true Eye
Ever went by them –
Stoically –

Sorrow’s abundant –
Banners appear
Waving all in white
Of Deaths so near –

By Emily Dickinson:

Inconceivably solemn!
Things go gay
Pierce – by the very Press
Of Imagery –

Their far Parades – order on the eye
With a mute Pomp –
A pleading Pageantry –

Flags, are a brave sight –
But no true Eye
Ever went by One –
Steadily –

Music's triumphant –
But the fine Ear
Winces with delight
Are Drums too near –

Ho! Ho! Horrors!

11/18/2020

Welcome to the 2020 Shopping Season
(formerly known as the Holiday Season).

Of course, due to Grand Wizard Trump's inept handling of the Trump Virus, the escalating cases of COVID19, and the ever-climbing Trump Death Toll, the shopping season this year will have more than its fair share of Ho-Ho-Horrors.

CDC guidelines for Thanksgiving and holiday gatherings are HERE, and I actually saw this headline:

After Big Thanksgiving Dinners, Plan Small Christmas Funerals, Health Experts Warn

I'm not making that up. Read the article HERE.

To plan for this year's Shopping Season, plan appropriately according to the dates below.

11/26: ThanksGetting (formerly known as Thanksgiving) -- GET WHAT YOU CAN ONLINE
11/27: Black Plague Friday -- go out & catch the deals! And the plague, too!
11/28: Social Distanced Saturday -- shop small business -- in small social-distanced crowds.
11/29: Super Spreader Sunday -- to hell with it all! Go out to the mega-marts. Just wear a mask!
11/30: Quarantined Monday -- shopping exclusively online.
12/01: Lock Down Tuesday -- keep shopping online.
12/02: Shelter-in-Place Wednesday -- keep shopping online.
12/03: Gift-Scrolling Thursday -- stop doomscrolling all day long -- and continue gift-scrolling!
12/04: Flatten-the-Curve Friday -- keep shopping online.
12/05: Community Spread Saturday -- cast your fate to the wind and take a trek to the mall!
12/06: Covidiot Sunday -- maskless shopping with all the Covidiots!

12/07: Asymptomatic Monday -- go out shopping even if you're asymptomatic!
12/08: Herd Immunity Tuesday -- shop with all the GOP sheep today.
12/09: Essential Shopping Wednesday -- don't forget to pick up some more toilet paper!
12/10: Stimulus Check Thursday -- boy, the GOP sure rushed through that Supreme Court nominee vote, didn't they? Maybe they'll get off their asses and think about needy Americans by December? LOL.
I doubt it!
12/11: Reopen-the-Stores Friday -- Trump wanted churches packed by Easter, remember? Now he wants all of the stores reopened! Who cares about the Trump Death Toll! GET OUT THERE AND SHOP!
12/12: Second-Wave-Shopping Saturday -- keep the momentum going! Just remember -- plan for small funerals near or after the holidays.
12/13: Ventilator Sunday -- do some online shopping even if you're in the hospital.

From 12/14 onward -- if you're still with us -- just keep on shopping. Remember, "shop till you drop"? Now it's "click till you're sick" and "buy till you die" -- just keep the economy moving for the rest of us!

For info on past years' "Shopping Seasons" -- including some poetry -- click HERE and scroll down.

Absolute Zero

11/1/2020

Our so-called president (i.e., the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan) claims he was infected by the Trump Virus. He spent several days at Walter Reed Hospital with an infantry of doctors and a profusion of experimental drugs (and a li'l bit of Clorox bleach, I'm sure). The hospital then released him while he was still sick and infected. Back at the White House, he lumbered up some stairs, gasped for air, and took off his mask. "Do not be afraid," he croaked. “Don’t let the Trump Virus dominate your life.”

A young man witnessed this and asked his mother, "Who is that maskless man, Mommy?"

She responded, "Zero, my son. That man is Zero."

Below left: Grand Wizard Trump outside the White House, Below center: Super Heros – er, Super Spreader Zero. Below right: I'm not sure about the origins of this cartoon -- my wife texted it to me. The caption was in German, so I changed it to English. If anyone knows it's creator, please let me know, and I will credit it here

In honor of Super Spreader Zero, I have posted Emmett Lee Dickinson's now-classic poem "He Days had been from Home" below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to write "I Years had been from Home," below on the right.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

He Days had been from Home
And now before the Door
He cared not enter, till his Face
Could all be seen once more

Stared solid into space
What was his business there?
“My business but a Photo Op
So I’m remaining here.”

He leaned in hopes of Awe –
He lingered like a Slug –
Then struck a posture like a Troll
And stood there like a Thug –

I laughed a numbing Laugh
As he stood by the Door
His Reputation tarnished
And tattered as before.

He twisted to the Latch
His hand with trembling care
Lest back the awful Door should spring
And leave him on the Floor --

Then moved his Fat Ass off
As lowly as a Louse
And swelled with fears, and like a Thief
Fled gasping to the House –

By Emily Dickinson:

I Years had been from Home
And now before the Door
I dared not enter, lest a Face
I never saw before

Stare solid into mine
And ask my Business there –
"My Business but a Life I left
Was such remaining there?"

I leaned upon the Awe –
I lingered with Before –
The Second like an Ocean rolled
And broke against my ear –

I laughed a crumbling Laugh
That I could fear a Door
Who Consternation compassed
And never winced before.

I fitted to the Latch
My Hand, with trembling care
Lest back the awful Door should spring
And leave me in the Floor –

Then moved my Fingers off
As cautiously as Glass
And held my ears, and like a Thief
Fled gasping from the House –

By the way, I heard that the Secret Service's code name for Trump now is "Super Spreader." Really.

I stumbled upon this on Instagram -- painted by @PureGenius and posted by @evgrieve.

Masking for a Friend

6/29/2020

We are in the midst of a raging pandemic of the TrumpVirus, hospitals in major cities are beyond their capacities to admit and care for patients, the Trump Death Toll is climbing out of control, and the CDC recommends that people wear masks when in public -- yet some people still refuse to wear masks?

What the hell is wrong with these people? I repeat: What the hell is wrong with these people?

The entire controversy of having to wear a mask calls to mind Emmett Lee Dickinson's visionary poem from 1853, "The morons are meaner than they were" (below on the left). Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "The morns are meeker than they were" (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The morons are meaner than they were –
The nuts are getting ’round –
The Karen’s shriek is sharper –
The Beckys do astound –

The MAGAts scoff at PPE –
But don their scarlet crown* –
Lest I sh'd be so fashioned
I'll put a face mask on.

*MAGA Hat

By Emily Dickinson:

The morns are meeker than they were –
The nuts are getting brown –
The berry's cheek is plumper –
The Rose is out of town –

The maple wears a gayer scarf –
The field a scarlet gown –
Lest I sh'd be old fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.

Permanent Wave

6/28/2020

As much as he will try to deny it, Mike Pence is infected with "Crow-navirus."

"Crow-navirus" is a new disease where politicians have to eat crow when the public comes to realize that they've been spreading nothing but disinformation about the COVID19 global pandemic.

Last week, Pence's skill and ease with dishonesty and deceit was front and center in the news cycle again with his lies about the coronavirus -- that there would be no second wave and that state governors should spread misleading claims that new COVID-19 spikes were due only to a rise in testing.

Time to prepare a double order of crow for our so-called vice president.

In tribute to Pence's misleading propaganda, we have posted Emmett Lee Dickinson's "The second Wave's a phony Wave" below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem, "We send the Wave to find the Wave," below on the right. Then, for more on "Crow-navirus," click HERE.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

“The second Wave’s a phony Wave” –
A Message so insane,
The Messenger’s deceptive too,
Forgetting truth again,
He makes his base distraction still,
Soever made in vain,
The saddest time to dam the sea is when
the sea is gone –

By Emily Dickinson:

We send the Wave to find the Wave –
An Errand so divine,
The Messenger enamored too,
Forgetting to return,
We make the wise distinction still,
Soever made in vain,
The sagest time to dam the sea is when
the sea is gone –

Staff Infection

6/28/2020

As the coronavirus spikes in places like Florida ("God's waiting room") and Texas, a new illness has also emerged in those same hotspots – CROW-NAVIRUS – as the Governors and other GOP sicko-phants have had to eat crow about reopening their states too early in the face of the worsening pandemic.

Sean Hannity and other radical right-wing news hosts have also contracted Crow-navirus as they, too, have had to eat crow about their approbation of Trump’s “mission accomplished” attitude toward the TrumpVirus and the rising Trump Death Toll.

Mike Pence tried his damnedest to fend off Crow-navirus at a recent press briefing when he told Americans that things were going well and he continued to praise Trump. Trump himself, a master of deceit and spin, is having a hard time dealing with his own case of Crow-navirus. He’s trying hard not to swallow crow by making moronic statements like, "If we stop testing right now, we’d have very few cases, if any” (as dumb-as-rocks MAGAts nod their heads and affirm, “ya know, Cleetus, he’s on t’sumpin”).

In tribute to Crow-navirus, we have posted Emmett Lee Dickinson's "Shame is a wicked food" below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "Fame is a fickle food," below on the right.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Shame is a wicked food
Upon a shifting plate
Whose table wants a
Host for now
The second time is set.

Who must the crow ingest
And with moronic cry
Flap past it to the
Public's Scorn –
Men eat of it and lie.

By Emily Dickinson:

Fame is a fickle food
Upon a shifting plate
Whose table once a
Guest but not
The second time is set.

Whose crumbs the crows inspect
And with ironic caw
Flap past it to the
Farmer's Corn --
Men eat of it and die.

Below: GOP sicko-phants like Florida Governor Ron Desantis, Texas Governor Greg Abbott, radical Fox conspirator Sean Hannity, and so-called Vice President Mike Pence have recently contracted serious cases of Crow-navirus as they have had to eat crow about their misguided views and misinformation campaigns about the COVID19 pandemic.

IQ Test

6/7/2020

From Dorothy Dawe:

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Best Gains – must be without the Tests –
To constitute them – Gains –

By Emily Dickinson:

Best Gains – must have the Losses' Test –
To constitute them – Gains –

Donald. Trump. Is. An. Idiot.

He actually said the following about COVID19: "When you test, you have a case. When you test, you find something is wrong with people. If we didn’t do any testing, we would have very few cases."

What is really sad is that his Klan of supporters were probably shaking their heads in agreement thinking, "Trump really is a stable genius. You know, he had an uncle who went to MIT."

The truth of the matter is that Donald Trump did nothing -- absolutely nothing -- to prepare and protect our country for the coming pandemic. Trump's response has been nothing but denial, deceit, delays, and dysfunction -- and of course, the result of his incompetence has been death, death and more death (the US is 4% of the world's population, but we account for 28.5% of all COVID19 deaths worldwide).

AS OF 6/7/20: 2,000,000+ cases, and 112,500 deaths.

The latest lunacy on the part of Trump -- that "if we didn't do any testing, we would have very few cases" -- called to mind Emmett Lee Dickinson's short poem, "Best Gains -- must be without the Tests" (above on the left). Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "Best Gains -- must have the Losses' Test" (above on the right).

We offer Dickinson’s “The Spider as Con Artist” (below on the left) in response to Trump’s idiotic remarks. This poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem “The Spider as an Artist” (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The Spider as Con Artist
Revered by those Employed –
Though his lackluster Merit’s
Now freely certified

Still every Imp and Idjit
Throughout this “Christian” Land –
Suspects this Sap’s a Genius
They fall for Sleight of Hand –

By Emily Dickinson:

The Spider as an Artist
Has never been employed –
Though his surpassing Merit
Is freely certified

By every Broom and Bridget
Throughout a Christian Land –
Neglected Son of Genius
I take thee by the Hand –

Memorial Day 2020 -- Part 1

5/24/2020

A poem by E. E. Cummings -- dedicated to the souls who make up Trump's COVID19 Death Toll:

in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)

in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me

Be Worst

5/11/2020

From Dorothy Dawe:

My post below is highly unusual. This is the first time EVER that I have included an entire twitter thread from a single individual. In the past, I have included tweets from others here an there, but never an entire thread -- but what Steve Schmidt tweeted today MUST be read in its entirety by as many people as possible.

Trump's presidency has been nothing but a disaster from the start; however, his failure as a leader during a true world-wide crisis has been truly catastrophic. His response to COVID-19 has been nothing but denial, delay, deceit, and dysfunction.

First he called the virus a "hoax." Then he said that it would all go away, "like a miracle." Now he's trying to paint an absurd picture that -- after 80,000-plus deaths (and rising) -- "we have prevailed." This is Trump's pathetic "Mission Accomplished" moment, a sad reminder that his incompetence is killing more and more Americans.

[NOTE: With just 4.3% of the world's population, the US is now the epicenter of the pandemic with 33% of all cases and 28.5% of all deaths.]

In a highly risky push to reopen the economy, Trump -- a.k.a. Cap'n Bonespurs -- is now trying to convince us that we are all warriors in the battle and that we must be willing to die to feed his greed (and to guarantee his re-election).

“We have to be warriors," he grumbled. "We can’t keep our country closed down for years.”

Of course, in the meantime, HE is tested every day, and EVERYONE who comes in contact with him must be tested (now that the White House has become a COVID hot spot) -- while the rest of America waits and waits and waits for a national testing program.

Below: A vintage poster for D. W. Griffith's spectacle "The Death of a Nation" (soon to be aired on TCM).

The Trump response to this global pandemic has been SICKENING -- figuratively and literally.

His lies, his incompetence, his hubris, his lack of leadership and a national response, his absence of empathy, his dysfunction -- all of this has called to mind two short poems by Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson's third cousin, twice removed -- at her request), "So, take your risk" and "Death warrants aren't supposed to be" (below on the left).

His poems inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poems "Soul, take thy risk" and "Death warrants are supposed to be" (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

So, take your risk
With Death to be
We’re better with you out, not me

By Emily Dickinson:

Soul, take thy risk.
With Death to be
Were better than be not with thee

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Death warrants aren’t supposed to be
An enginery of remedy
A terminal mistake
A quick fix from an Idle Hand
A Devotee of his consigned
To Intermix or Squawk

By Emily Dickinson:

Death warrants are supposed to be
An enginery of equity
A merciful mistake
A pencil in an Idol's Hand
A Devotee has oft consigned
To Crucifix or Block

Do not go gentle into that good economy, warriors! Just make sure your wills are up-to-date!

Week Memory

5/5/2020

From Jarvis MacKinnon III:

A few of our recent tweets about life in quarantine:

Day 30: I cleaned my vacuum cleaner. NOTE: I did not say, "I cleaned WITH my vacuum cleaner." I said, "I cleaned my vacuum cleaner."

Day 32: I cleaned the inner tub of our washing machine.

Day 35: I started to alphabetize all of the items in my fridge, but I wasn't sure if the Mt. Olive Bread & Butter Pickles should go under M, B, or P -- so I stopped. I ate a family size bag of double-stuf Oreos instead.

Day 37: @IvankaTrump would be proud of me. I just finished reading the Sumerian mythological account of "Lugalbanda in the Mountain Cave," and I've learned to play the Hornucopian dronepipe. Now I'm thinking of learning to play Mayan temple trumpets.

Day 40: I'm beyond the "what day is it?" phase. I'm in the "what meal is this?" phase.

Day 43: You remember that quip from Lady Grantham, the Dowager Countess of Downton Abbey, "What is a weekend?" Yeah. That.

Day 44: Big day today. We're going to inventory our condiments before some online shopping.

Day 49: It was a gray morning, the sort of gray you’d see in the roots of a dame who’d finally given up the battle to go with color for a more youthful look & just go gray, but you wouldn’t notice the gray because everything in this day was gray like the color of a television tuned to an off air channel. It was 8:26 a.m. & the morning held the promise that nothing would happen. All day. Nothing would happen at all. It was the first of May, but at best, felt like Maybe.

Day 51: Another day of binge watching -- the refrigerator.

Day 52: I'm experiencing symptoms of pain, numbness and tingling in my backside. I believe I'm suffering from couchal tater syndrome.

We'll post a few more on @The_Dickinson as life in quarantine continues.

For now, we have changed the names of the days of the week since no one can remember what day it is any way (the days are now Someday, Mundayne, Chooseday, Whatsday, There'saday, Fraudday, and Sadderday), we have posted Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "My Ass so has so little to do" below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "The Grass has so little to do," below on the right, and -- as an added bonus -- we've included a new weekly planner where you can organize your daily "to do" lists in one seamless lump.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

A Day! Help! Help!
Another Day!
Affairs – they’re Passing by!
From such a common spell as this
What date of Mystery?
From figurings once simple
The need for patience springs
Steady – my soul: What issues
What day tomorrow brings?

By Emily Dickinson:

A Day! Help! Help!
Another Day!
Your prayers – Oh Passer by!
From such a common ball as this
Might date a Victory!
From marshallings as simple
The flags of nations swang.
Steady – my soul: What issues
Upon thine arrow hang!

Below: To simplify your life during the 2020 global pandemic for the Trump Virus, we have provided this "Weekly To do List" where you can organize your daily "to do" lists in one seamless lump.