Can't Spare a Square

“Today you can go to a gas station and find the cash register open and the toilets locked. They must think toilet paper is worth more than money.”

-Joey Bishop

“Sorry, I can’t spare a square.”

-Elaine Benes (Seinfeld)

Déjà flu.

Just when I thought life couldn’t get any more bizarre, along comes the coronavirus. Now, it’s not like we haven’t had our share of outbreaks, but if memory serves me right, they've involved animals of some sort; birds, swine, cows, sheep, and bugs (the buzzing kind), mostly. Oh, and the now infamous Ebola, which though it's not named after, but in my opinion should be, called the Cheetah flu, just to keep this whole animal theme going.

The end of the world as we know it.

Do any of you remember the Y2K hoopla? What about the Mayan calendar hooey and the frequent giant asteroid predictions that have caused similar, but not this panicky of reaction in people?

My assumption is because those events were meant to either wipe out all humanity as we know it, or at the least send us back to the stone age - which, considering the legalization of marijuana, we might already be there.

You can rest easy, though, my friends. This Corona thing will apparently only take out those of us who don’t have enough double-ply Charmin on hand.

Just crying wolf.

Don’t we have enough real-life disasters with floods, tidal waves, earthquakes, tornadoes and the McPizza (not a McJoke) and Urkel-O’s cereal to freak out about than this virus? The thing about these other global and regional disasters is there’s no warning. No chance to panic due to amped up media coverage until after the fact.

Hmm… is there a connection here? Could the news be spreading the flus?

Are you feelin’ froggy?

My curiosity pauses at this question: Has anyone done a study on leap years and wacky behavior?

Perhaps the alignment of the planets Dagobah and Andor every four years produces a ripple in the force, causing a gravitational pull on the tiny part of the brain that controls rational thinking. I’d like to think so. Otherwise, “Crazy you are, I think,” as Yoda would say.

Life is a masquerade, old chum.

As I let my mind wander (I know, a dangerous thing to do) I wonder if bank tellers and 7-11 employees get nervous when someone walks in wearing a white dust mask. I would. People are hard enough to read as it is.

Without seeing the mouth, how do we know if someone is smiling?

If you’re having a bad day, I would like to know it. I don’t want to piss you off any more than you already are. For. Sure.

I’m Dow Jones-ing it.

Why does the stock market always do a big Sherman during these mysterious pandemics? I see nothing but golden opportunities. When life hands you Lyme’s, make a margarita. Companies that sell products like latex gloves, toilet paper, water, and masks are set to make a fortune.

Famous actors, sports stars and musicians should jump on the bandwagon. This is a marketer's dream. Imagine Michael Jackson's signature medical masks and limited-edition, white glitter latex gloves, or a Seinfeld-promoted hand sanitizer? It’s gold, Jerry! Gold!

She gives me fever.

I did a little research. All flu illnesses and deaths are estimated calculations by the CDC and may take years for the numbers to jive. I also read, (you should read, but not Facebook. Real reading is good for you) that the coronavirus test kits are proving unreliable. Really?

Could this mean we have no idea how many true cases there are? This fact might make you feel less stressed or may cause you to feverishly search the Internet for the latest flu-conspiracy theories.

Zika the truth and you will find it.

·         What’s left for humanity?

·         Are we to be squished like a bug by a bug named after a beer?

·         Is Sears going to reissue their famous catalog due to a toilet paper shortage?

·         Will three ultimately really be a crowd?

Don’t call me for the answers.

I’ll be in Hawaii. I hear flights are getting cheaper by the minute.

Bigfoot, Ebola and Ugly Shoes

Do you sleep with a .357 loaded with silver bullets under your pillow on the off chance that a werewolf might pull a Goldilocks while riding through your hood?  Or perhaps have a huge crucifix stashed in the nightstand just in case the pierced and pale teen from across the street really is a bloodsucker and not just making a fashion statement?

The most common fear is the “Little Miss Muffet Syndrome” or Arachnophobia.  I for one will admit I don’t like spiders. If I see one in the bedroom I will begin an archaeological search of Indiana Jones-ish proportions, leaving no cushion unturned, until the evil entity is safely entombed in a wad of Charmin and banished to the nether regions of the sewer. Whatever did our bug-killing forefathers do before the invention of toilet paper?

The next three are heights, tight spaces and flying. Hmmm. It’s a wonder any airline can stay in business.  And if we don’t have enough anxiety already, along comes Ebola. Now, even though this doesn’t scare me, I still go a bit Michael Jackson when I have to grab the black, rubber escalator thingie at the mall. What were they thinking?  It’s like a never ending germ smorgasbord. I have my eye on glove sales at the moment; might be a good future investment.

Bigfoot isn't an issue for me because I don’t spend a lot of time traipsing around in the woods. Not that I’m a camp-o-phobic, but I live near a freeway entrance so I am used to big, smelly, hairy guys approaching me. I am a bit sketchy when it comes to clowns though. Didn’t used to be. I blame Stephen King. I never looked at a clown the same after watching the movie “It.” And no, I don’t eat at McDonald’s.

My Top Five Fears:

5. Ugly Shoes

My best friend’s teenage son once commented on a new pair of shoes I’d just purchased. And I quote, “I guess you’ve just given up then?” Can you say, where’s the nearest Goodwill?

4. Going Bald

I think God knew it would be too traumatic for me so he let me keep my hair.  Besides, I have a funny shaped head and don’t look cool in hats. Never have. I’m so vain. Case closed.

3. Bad Guitar Tone

Okay, you non guitar players will not understand this, but the quest for “great tone” is as old as the desire for a nicely marbled brontosaurus steak and almost as impossible to attain. There is nothing worse than spending years crafting the perfect tone only to have someone say “that’s the best you’ve ever sounded” while playing through someone else’s crappy gear.

2. Being Licked by a Dog

Anything that frequently uses its tongue as a washcloth is automatically in the “gross” column. I threw up a little in my mouth just thinking about it.

1. Being Eaten by a Shark

They say the odds are greater that I will get struck by lightening.  But isn’t swimming in the ocean dressed like a seal similar to prancing around in a thunder storm decked out like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz? Think about it.

K.G.