Well, I was wrong…we’re not going to have much time tonight either, most attractive reader. The Virus isn’t bothering me, but the Herd’s response is causing me some degree of inconvenience, which I resent. So while I do take it (the Virus) seriously, there is only so much one can do, and panicking will not help anything. Perhaps the best thing one can do at this point in this (or any other crisis where individuals are fairly helpless to change anything) is to drink whiskey and try to find the humor in the absurdity of the situation. Rather than join the Panicking Public in their hyperventilation and fear, I hope you’ll join me until this thing has run its course and we can giggle our way drunkenly through the pandemic. We can finally literally be The Cackling Bastards of the Apocalypse. And as the extroverts who have promulgated this stupid disease empty the streets and retreat to cower in their suburban hovels and try to figure out what the hell to do without professional sports, we’ll have the run of the place. These are potentially good times for us, dear reader. Fear not.

N.P.: “Rats” – Ghost