Whenever people on the street stop and ask me how long I think this novel coronavirus is going to last, I look them straight in the eye, squint a little, cough (into the crook of my elbow), let a wry smile slowly form on my lips, cock my head, look over the tops of my sunglasses, and shrug my shoulders. “Could be weeks, could be years.”
It could be like an epic novel.
This kind of straight talk is exactly what Americans want to hear. And like toilet paper, it’s in short supply these days. But there’s no limit to the amount of straight talk I can generate. Which is why I tell everyone I see that we all must get together and “fatten the curve.” But not too fat, thank you very much!
Excuse me while I check into why my publicist is hopping up and down and waving her arms.
OK, I’m back. Interesting news: it’s flatten the curve, not “fatten” the curve.
Ya think they coulda told us?!
In my many years of predicting the future, I have never been so wrong as I have about the period in which we currently live. I thought I had it nailed!
That we’re not flying personal blimps to and from work by now I find very odd. I had long thought personal blimps were the transportation of the future, but other (lesser) futurists have thrown cold water on my ideas by claiming that once a lot of people start flying personal blimps to work, well, you’d start to need blimp traffic signals. Which implied blimp accidents, and blimp rollovers, and blimp traffic jams. Which implied not much better than what we currently have. I was sure we were on the precipice of a great blimp movement, but people got so freaked out by this misinformation campaign that no one would get behind the blimp idea, and it petered out.
Alas! And now it turns out there isn’t even much road traffic. Do you realize that I drove from West Roxbury to Cambridge and never once touched my brakes? Slight exaggeration: there were some geese that wouldn’t get out of the way, but after that it was just give it gas and turn the wheel.
My personal opinion, It’s important to get into your car now, while gas prices are low and you are actually allowed to go to the ski slopes.
Wait a minute: can we still ski?
It’s true that I’m polling in the low single digits nationally (or maybe, like, below 1%) for the Democratic nomination, but still, I feel good about my candidacy relative to the effort I’ve put in. Like, I have put no effort into running. I mean none.
And yet I’ll get more votes than you will.
That’s just the way it is: things come easy for me, and being president would be easy as well. If I were in the White House, I would affect change on day one by doing a couple of simple things, like adding some color. I mean, come on, pure white? What if we at least did the trim in a beige?
Second, I’d renovate the Oval Office to add a few hard angles. Maybe make it the Rhombus Office, or the Trapezoid Office. Whatever shape is most likely to freak out foreign heads of state is what I’m for. Keep them on their toes.
Finally, I'd bring Democrats and Republicans together by installing a little bar with a keezer so I could serve my presidential homebrew right from the tap. If there's one thing that can bring the parties together, it's beer. Homebrew is missing from the White House and to my mind that's a real shame.
I can already sense my write-in poll numbers going up.
Several people have asked me if I expect to win the Presidential Medal of Freedom before I die. And why wouldn’t they ask that? I’m loved by millions, and I’ve done enormous amounts for the American people.
Have my actions on behalf of the citizens of our country flown under the radar, with almost no one knowing about or being able to document my contributions? Probably. Some people claim I’ve contributed nothing at all. Like that makes me unqualified! It turns out you don’t have to have served your country at all.
On the other hand, I don’t have lung cancer.
However, please alert the president that I have had many struggles with anosmia. This deserves something, doesn’t it? I know that Rudy Giuliani contends that you can’t get the Presidential Medal of Freedom with anything less than a stage 4 cancer diagnosis, but what about the Vice Presidential Medal of Good Humor? Or the Speaker of the House Medal of Coolness Under Pressure?
A couple of guys I met on the street told me that there’s a chart that is used to dole out medals, and the only way to get to the presidential medal of freedom is either to serve your country with distinction, or else get a stage 4 diagnosis. Great! This means I can’t get it if I catch my forthcoming cancer early, like stage 1. Makes me want to let that damned cancer thrive!
What’s your plan to win the PMoF?