The Isolation Diaries No. 2

“What I found worked best was a lie slipped in with the truth.” Omar El Akkad, American War

My wife asks me to train her. She’s got her training gear on. The dishes are washed, bed made, we’ve both checked our work email, she’s checked in with her mother and sister, I’ve had an early morning text from my brother. No excuses, in other words. I’ve never enjoyed training with Terry because she usually starts goofing around or talking too much. I run her through some stretches with a Swiss ball, a band, and a six-foot mobility stick. She’s had a shoulder surgery and is often very tight. Then we do stretches from the MAFF (Martial Arts Family Fitness) routine. We throw punches, jabs, crosses, hooks and uppercuts. Then on to knee strikes and front kicks. Terry surprises me. She takes it seriously, focuses on what she’s doing, gets a good sweat going. 

We are isolated at home. It’s not uncomfortable, yet, and by that I mean we’re not deprived of anything we really need. But we need movement, need to feel our bodies, and do all we can to remain healthy. The days challenge us to stay in the moment and refrain from worrying too much about what might be coming. 

I make the mistake of watching Trump’s press briefing on Friday. It was bizarre. Trump is nuts, just fucking nuts. After presiding over chaos the past two weeks -- from his claims that the coronavirus is a hoax cooked up by Democrats and the Deep State to topple the Trump presidency, to denials of the potential severity, to claiming the virus will magically disappear, and is under control -- Trump now wants to “reassure” the public, because he has a “feeling” and because he’s such a “smart” guy. As my mouth hung open in disbelief, Trump talked out of his ass about huge goverment orders for a malaria drug that Trump believes will be a “game-changer.” 

Word salads kept tumbling out of Trump’s asshole, some did cartwheels in mid-air, somersaults, tuck and rolls. Trump’s asshole talked about Bayer, a great company. All the company’s are great, terrific, all are ramping up to produce swabs, masks, gloves, face shields, gowns, ventilators, it’s unbelievable, unprecendented, never happened before, says Trump’s asshole. 

And then, a quick turn, and Trump is attacking Peter Alexander of NBC News for asking a question Trump doesn’t like because he hasn’t a fucking clue how to answer it like a real leader of a real nation would. Alexander’s question was reasonable, a nice arcing softball for Trump to swing at. When Trump doesn’t like a reporter’s question, or the reporter, or the network the reporter represents, he immediately attacks the questioner, badmouths the network, as he might an uninvited guest at Mar-A-Lago. He went Mob boss on Alexander. Nasty question! Unfair! You should be ashamed of yourself! You’re a terrible reporter! 

In the course of his rambling, batshit, stream-of-consciousness monologue, Trump basically told the American people that the coronavirus isn’t killing that many of them, so stop whining. You might get sick, you might not, I’ve got a feeling, so let’s see how it goes. We’ll have a vaccine very soon, it’s right around the corner, our great companies are working on it 24/7. This will all be over very soon. 

What miracle cure will Trump throw out during tomorrow’s episode of The Briefing Room? Stay tuned. 

Why the corporate media even bothers to cover these propaganda exercises is a mystery. Trump’s not up for the prime time leader-in-a-crisis role. He can’t control this story line, not with boasts about phantom vaccines, low mortality rates, widespread testing that has happened only inside Trump’s putrid brain. Trump needs to be the story, the central character, and the coronavirus refuses to step out of the limelight. Trump is frantically trying to stay ahead of the tidal wave of raw sewage that is bearing down on his head. You dismiss science, knowledge, experience, commonsense, human decency, and it will bury you. 

“I’m not hearing it,” says Trump to a reporter, meaning the problem the reporter asked about doesn’t exist. 

I feel sorry for Dr. Anthony Fauci. The poor man has to stand behind Trump, listen to the Orange Menace spew lies, and not lose his lunch or walk away in disgust. Fauci is an honorable professional surrounded by dishonorable morons.

Evening falls, the sky is overcast and looks like rain. I open 2666 by Roberto Bolano and start reading.