Our Plague Year

Daniel Defoe wrote a book called, “Journal of the Plague Year,” concerning an outbreak of the plague that made life more interesting than usual in London long ago. We're having our own plague year right now, pretty much all over the place. No doubt there are many bloggers succumbing to the temptation to write their little “Blogs of the Plague Year,” as heartfelt contributions to world literature. I will not be joining them. As fascinating as our plague is, I am not convinced that there is any entertainment value in it.

Our plague is in embryonic form at the moment. It exists, it has life, we are beginning to see the outlines of it. At the present time, though, it is like a human embryo. Lots of potential, but very little accomplishment to show for itself. It has our attention, that much is certainly true, and it has seized our fears and our imaginations, but we have no way of knowing which way the thing will turn. It could fizzle out before November's election, or it could rampage through the world for the next two or three years, killing a couple of hundred million people. Somewhere in the middle would be bad enough, and that's where we're probably going with it.

I don't like this Novel Coronavirus one bit, this so-called COVID-19. No sir, not one bit. It is unsportsmanlike. Many people do have it, but you'd never know it. You could observe them for an hour; you could take their temperature (normal) and look in their throats (clear, good color). No matter. You don't know Jack about whether they have the virus or not. You must run a specific test, or series of tests, to discover if a certain person is infected. Right now there is a disastrous shortage of these tests in America, so they're not going to waste one on someone who is asymptomatic. Especially someone unimportant. Unimportant people are getting short shrift in America these days. That person will go about their business, perhaps being waylaid occasionally by someone taking their temperature before they enter a mall. Temperature normal! Welcome to the Monkey Mall! This person is spreading the virus to others. Maybe it's an attractive woman, they are welcome everywhere and people love to engage them in conversation. These agents of the disease are wandering around right now, getting other people sick. It'll go through an incubation period of a couple of weeks and then we'll see who is lucky and who is not, when it comes to symptomology. Some of the newly infected will go blithely forth without symptoms to do the secret work of the virus, while others will be laid low. Quite a few will be laid “six-feet-under” low. It's just damn sneaky is what it is. It's not fair! No, I don't like it one bit.

I find myself in an extremely high risk group, and in a country that is not taking the threat seriously. My host culture has a lot in common with Italy. The people, like the Italians, are friendly and hospitable, and they are mostly interested in hanging out with their friends, eating in restaurants, and spending time with their extended families. We have already seen how those cultural attributes worked out for Italy. And, it is worth noting, Italy is the eighth biggest economy in the world. My host culture does not enjoy such developmental benefits. So I'm up shit's creek, and the question of my having a paddle or not is undecided.

I also find myself with a dangerous mixture of high-risk characteristics. My age is a distinct disadvantage, and the list of my medical conditions includes a couple of serious negatives. That must be balanced out with my natural disinclination to spend money on medical care. My opinion on the subject is that whether you throw money at it or not, the outcome will probably be the same. If you would die without the medical care, the odds are that you will also die in spite of it. So fuck that. Money is for the living; the dead have no use for such things.

This will be a lively time for me. The silver-lining is that I am being told to stay at home and not go out for any but the most critical reasons. This actually fits right in with my preferences in life. I hate going out. I always hated going outside my house in Los Angeles at six in the morning to get the paper. I hated the idea of running into one of the neighbors and having to talk to them. I loved them all, but mostly in the abstract. My social anxiety, from an early age, made every sojourn out of the house a terrible adventure that I would rather forgo. This was one of the reasons that work was such a challenge for me. I never minded the work, but you had to leave the house to go there. Also, there were people there, some of whom were disagreeable.

As it happens, “staying at home and never venturing forth” is a lot harder than it sounds. I have no support system, no army of friends or neighbors who are young and strong and willing to assist me in any way that I may require. I would be at the mercy of Uber to get to the fucking hospital in the middle of the night. Where does that leave one these days? Go to the store; touch nothing; accept no change because money is the dirtiest thing in the world; wear a mask, or not, depending on whom you rely for such information; talk to no one; don't go near anyone; and upon returning home wipe down all of your purchases with disinfectant; burn all of your clothing; and take a long shower. That doesn't seem practical, since prison is almost certainly worse than getting the virus. You'd get virus within a week in prison anyway.

We'll see where this thing goes. Nowhere good, probably. There is always a possibility that Washington will get its wheels on the ground and do a great job of taking care of us. Of somehow mitigating the impending disaster. Raise your hand if you think that there's any chance of that happening. (Looks around the room.) No, I didn't think so.

This is going to raise considerable hell with the world's political and economic order. A disruption this big, this colossal, could lead to big changes. I would say that there are equally huge possibilities for positive or negative changes. What will the world look like in three or four years? Star Trek? 1984? Soylent Green? Logan's Run? Brave New World? Nothing would be too surprising, considering the magnitude of the challenges that our leaders will fail to meet.

So I'll see you on the other side. Or not. Bon chance, mon ami! Viel Gluck! Catch up on your reading and hope for the best. The good news is that young people have very high survival rates so far. Our grandchildren have a good chance of making it through this, even if we don't. I do find that comforting.