I’m having a bit of a problem. In the years I have been writing this blog I’ve made it a point to avoid being political. This year I’ve added, I won’t talk about the virus, because everyone is tired of talking about the virus. The thing is, this week there is nothing at all in the whole world except crummy politics and stupid stuff about the virus. Believe me I have tried to tune it out. I even went so far as to play showtunes on my Spotify account. I thought there was no way politics could invade on show tunes. I was wrong. The playlist went straight to songs from Hamilton and I not only got politics I got the history of politics rapped musically at me over and over and over again. I thought I was on Sesame Street. “Today’s show was brought to you by the letter H and the birth of the banking system.”

I can’t even look out my window at nature for inspiration. I have two neighbors who normally are very nice, even to each other. They have beautiful yards with lots of flowers and bushes. Then Bob put out a campaign sign. Fred disagreed and, as is the way in a democracy, put out a slightly larger sign for the opponent. Now I’m not against campaigning, or free speech, or even putting large pieces of crap in your yard to hide all the expensive landscaping you did all year. The thing is it didn’t end there.

When Bob saw the size of Fred’s sign, he grew angry and put a second sing in his yard to be seen from more angles. Fred did not take this lying down. He went and got a six-foot banner and hung it across his porch. My hopes were dashed when things didn’t stop there. Their little war escalated faster than cheap insurance rates after a traffic accident. Bob went for quantity over quality putting up a new, usually larger, sign every day. All forty-seven of them say the same thing, but I guess he really wants to get his point across. Fred went straight for the adage, Size Matters, and while he didn’t have as many signs as Bob, some of them could be seen from the moon and beyond.

Both men’s yards are now mud-pits from being walked over so much, and their wonderful flowers have been trashed. The carnage is incredible. I swear I have never seen so much fervor over a district court judge race before.

Another freaky thing about the virus and politics this year is that they want us to vote early. That’s cool. Now you’d think that would be a simple process; you show up early and vote. Nope! While they seem to want us to vote early, the powers that be can’t seem to agree on what that means. Some of our elected officials seem to believe that when I say I’m going to vote early, it means I’m going to assassinate several political figures, kick numerous puppies, and use the restroom without washing my hands. So, they must make a slew of new laws to protect the puppies. I guess I’m confused, but I stupidly thought, Vote Early, was an English phrase. Who knew how it translated into Politico? However, as I said I don’t want to talk politics. Therefore, I’ll move on.

So, here I am. Sitting at my computer staring at a blank screen with nothing at all to write about. The thing is it’s not that I don’t have ideas. I have lots of ideas. Some are sane and some are warped. Just like every other red-blooded American idiot. Like for instance; Why do people use a picture of themselves with a mask on for their Tinder profile?

Look you’ve spent years with a fake picture lying to the world anyway, why change it now? Do they honestly think that white mask is going to make some potential hook-up say, “HUBBA, HUBBA,” and swipe right faster than the twenty-year-old picture you were using before? I don’t think so.  I guess I’m just not that into covered faces. Hey, why not just tell the truth and snap a photo with a bag over your head. It says everything you want to convey. You admit you’re not the Hollywood standard, but you’re desperate enough to accept what comes along. Truth makes hooking up so much better.

Also, while I’m on the subject, my son plays a video game that takes place in a fantasy land with castles and dragons. About two months ago, all the brilliantly-cloaked wizards and armor-clad knights started showing up wearing black or white face masks. What is up with that? Does this mean I have gotten a computer virus? Or perhaps are the warriors afraid of getting Corona. I doubt that very much. In that game every one is always killing everyone else. Covid wouldn’t be so much as a plague as it would be just another competitor. Can you kill a virus with a +5 Sword of Imperial Might? In this game I bet you can. The CDC and WHO should probably look into getting some of those.

I actually analyzed the game a bit to see if I could make some sense of it all. What I found will shock you. It seems there is a spell in this game called; The Sun’s Fire. Ask any astronomer and they will tell you that the outer fire of the sun is its corona. Add this information the fact that the characters are wearing masks and I believe I have found the true source of the Corona virus, and it’s not from China, It’s from Palo Alto, California. Now I know why they call a bad program a computer virus.

I mentioned my findings to my sister who is a techno-geek from way back. She told me I was completely wrong. This was not actually surprising. However, I took offense to it on general principles. Anyway, she informed me that game companies are putting masks on their characters to raise awareness. To raise awareness? How could anyone not be aware of masks? They are everywhere. All of social media has folks advertising they’re making masks. Stores are selling masks at the counter, or putting matching masks with clothing. Every person you meet outside the home is wearing one.  I’m aware of masks. In point of fact those games are called fantasy for a reason. In my fantasies I’m not wearing a mask. I am also not broke, ugly, underemployed, and especially not the personal slave of a cat, but this is beside the point. Masks are very important, yes, but at this point I don’t need my games yelling at me. They laugh at me enough when I try to beat them and fail.

So Here I sit. Lost in thought of what I might put together for a post this week. Well folks, I’ve got nothing.  Let me say I’m sorry again.

You could call it a writer’s block, but that’s a blue hunk of wood which sits on the end of my desk. Hey, it’s a block that belongs to a writer.