And as if things couldn’t get any worse, it’s the first day of spring.
Fuck.

N.P.: “I’m Afraid of Americans (V1 Edit) – David Bowie

I know things are bad, resilient reader, but if you didn’t spend at least part of today chuckling to yourself about the hell you raised last night then it’s your own damn fault.  Really, you should have celebrated with me…because everything is still shitty and stressful, but St. Patrick’s Day 2020 is over.  Gone forever.
Tomorrow’s gonna suck.  And Friday is going to be even worse.  And fuck knows where the bottom is right now.  But know this: not only will we get through this, but we’ll get through it in style.  Things will get worse before they get better.  But they will get better.

N.P.: “Back in Black” – AC/DC

You can take the Wuhan Virus and shove it right up your ass: it’s St. Patrick’s Day, goddammit, and we have drinking to do.  Take a break from worrying…you need it…and drink some whiskey.  To Ireland…to introversion!  Sláinte!

N.P.: “In the Name of the Father” – Bono, Gavin Friday

Whats going on, dear reader?  I hope you are well.
It warms my heart to watch extroverts have to really work at “social distancing.”  It’s cute the way they announce it as they’re doing it, like they feel it necessary to explain themselves for not hugging you or shaking your hand or otherwise wanting to touch you pointlessly.  You don’t need to explain that, extroverts…we get it.  What you really need to explain is why you’ve felt compelled to fucking hug us every time it’s been more than two hours since we last saw each other.  There’s simply no need for that.
#RiseOfTheIntroverts

N.P.: “I Just Had Sex” – The Lonely Island, Akon

How are ya holding up, dear reader?  Swimmingly, I hope.  There’s a little too much life happening at the moment to be able to concentrate enough of writing anything of literary consequence.
I went to the grocery store a little while ago, not to stupidly stock up on supplies, but to watch white girls in Uggs in a barely contained panic pretend to be Handling It.  Curious to note that there were many empty aisles, but the liquor section seems to be unaffected.  Clearly, panic induces an inability to make good decisions or maintain appropriate priorities.

N.P.: “The Order of Death” – Public Image Ltd.

Whaddup, attractive reader.  First things first…shout out to Dr. Hayden McCabe, all around genius and webmaster right here at jaysongallaway.com for always being available to rescue yrs. truly from the cybernetic bullshit I occasionally seem to get into.  Thank you, sir.

So how are you holding up?  Well, I hope.  I do wish The Herd would chill their fucking beans a bit.  Stupid people are easily frightened, and frightened people are dangerous people.  So that has lead us to a bunch of dangerously stupid people running around hoarding toilet paper and bottled water and other things that are essentially useless in the treatment of respiratory disease.  Of course, a great number of these people openly admit to believing that a virgin birth is actually a possibility, so perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised.  The Herd never fails to disappoint.

N.P.: “Born Dark” – Holy Wars

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

I wrote all day, dear reader, and even had something for you here, tonight, but it wasn’t quite finished, and when I was going to finish it, I got called away to deal with some other, more pressing things. Which is fine. But it also means I’m just checking in with you tonight. Hope you’re doing well. Meet me back here tomorrow and hopefully we’ll have a little more time together then.

N.P.: “Blue Monday” – Orgy

Extroverts have been pissing me off, lately. Rather than go off on some rant about the individual egregious social transgressions I’ve been subjected to recently, allow me to just point out that if the world was populated by introverts, coronavirus (and virtually all other communicable diseases) would never get much beyond wherever they originated. The governments of the world are ordering/recommending “social distancing,” which we introverts invented. Which would make it an “introvention.” Get it? Never mind. Okay. Stay away from each other, ferchrissake. All extroverts are swimming with disease.

N.P.: “Huggin & Kissin – This Be The Verse Remix” – Big Black Delta

So there’s the decent-money project that’s taking most of my time these days, dear reader, but I’m still trying to make time for the books. Kinda have to for my mental health…otherwise I’m going to start feeling uncomfortably like a hamster on a wheel. And that’s usually when things start to dangerously sideways.

N.P.: “Fuck Everything” – Euringer, Chantal Claret