Tag Archives: coronavirus

Responding To My Readers 2020

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Hello, my dear readers.

In these unprecedented times, just knowing that you’re out there is a great comfort to all of us in Month 5 of quarantine here at blog headquarters.

How do I know that you’re out there? Well, because I’m hearing from you, and, understandably, you not only want to be heard you’d like a gosh darn response. Please forgive my tardiness in replying, we had 15 seasons of “The Real Abscessed Teeth of Orange County” to get through.

Now then.

First up is Theodor Lutz, who writes: Hey there! Looking for some fun to get into? Me too! Let’s get to know each other on a much more personal level.

Love the enthusiasm, Theodor. Unfortunately, these days it’s hard enough keeping in touch with my existing friends, I really can’t take on anyone new right now. You might consider reaching out to someone in New Zealand. Good luck and keep up that cheery disposition!

Next is a question that came in from Igor2w46: удалите,пожалуйста!

I ran this through our translator and, yes, thank you, Igor2w46, we have enough leeches to see us through at least October. Appreciate your concern, sir, thanks for checking in!

Moving on, here’s longtime reader, first time messager Andrew Kaminski: “I am truly interested in your business model and I would like to ask you to start cooperation with our company. Our marketing tool allows for reducing new customer acquisition costs by 60. Feel free to answer this message for further questions, or for unsubscribe.”

A reduction of 60?!! That’s unheard of in this business. Color me intrigued, Mr. Kaminski. Don’t be in such a rush to get an unsubscribe, my accounting department will be in touch. Dude, 60?! HFS!!

And the generosity keeps pouring in, as reader Rosetta Ficke demonstrates: “This Free course is all you need to Become a Super Affiliate in 30 Days.”

Rosetta, wow, what a small world. I actually escaped from the Super Affiliates back when I was nine, but thanks for thinking of me (and no, sorry, I won’t be able to provide a testimonial for the website).

And finally, this message arrived from reader/customer Sandy Lamble: “My package was damaged for the second time. I made a picture so that you can see what I mean. I hope you can help me solve this problem.”

Sandy, I’m so sorry, I don’t understand the issue. The item you bought from our gift store is called “Damaged Package.” Do you want to swap it for a set of those “fly-in-the-ice-cube” party gags? They’re hilarious, just FYI they are real flies in real ice cubes and will probably melt before they reach you. Let me know.

You Can’t Social Distance From Yourself

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Hello, everyone! Let me start by saying I hope that you’re all healthy and safe whether you’re sheltering-in-place or, in the case of Sweden, wondering what all the fuss is about stepping over the bodies of senior citizens to get to that next krog on your krogrunda.

Regardless, if you’re reading this I imagine you’ve exhausted pretty much every other option for entertainment and/or distraction available to you. I say, pretty much, because we all have that 5000-piece Illustrated History Of The Flat Tax jigsaw puzzle in the back of the closet.

Thank you for making this your penultimate stop on a “Only in the event of a freaking global pandemic” tour.

I don’t mean to be overly, if accurately, self-deprecating, it’s just these past 6 weeks have led me to become a little more introspective. I decided that if Shakespeare can write King Lear IV: Spawn of Goneril during a plague, I can sit down in isolation and…………..at least get to know myself better.

Set below is a transcript of what happened next, edited for time and everyone’s steadily loosening grip on their sanity.

Me: Thanks for sitting down with yourself and answering some questions.

Me: I just want to say that I don’t appreciate the subterfuge. I was under the impression we were here to record another “Mama’s Family Episodes” podcast.

Me: Sometimes we need to trick ourselves into doing the hard work. Is now not a good time? Do you not want to self-examine?

Me: Whatever, it’s fine. I don’t have to be on the couch for another 40 minutes.

Me: Great! We’ll start with the softballs. When’s the last time you wore pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband?

Me: You’re trying to trick me again, aren’t you?

Me: I’m asking the questions here.

Me: Pants only come with elastic waistbands, man.

Me: Okay, moving on. If you could be a tree, what tree would you be that’s cut down and pulped to help meet the nation’s merciless lust for toilet paper?

Me: I’d be that anthropomorphic one who records a bunch of PSAs telling everybody to chill the eff out. You know, that one with the fangs.

Me: Related question: Who’s your ideal hoarder?

Me: I’m gonna say “Paranoid-lite.” Terrified of the bidet industrial complex, but good humored enough to eat a cake shaped like a roll of Charmin and not lose more than 3-4 hours of sleep at night.

Me: Wonderful. Good warm-up. Let’s try a tougher one.

Me: Or, we could just record that podcast. Man, remember that crossover episode with “Small Wonder”? When Mama turned Vicki into a moonshine still?

Me: Remember what happened in 7th grade? With the yogurt and the sweat and the locker caddy?

Me: Um, I don’t recall those things ever commingling in junior high.

Me: C’mon, if there’s any hope of understanding yourself, that’s the place to start. Let’s break it down. You never liked that locker caddy, did you?

Me: Look, I wash my hands, I wear my mask. I’m a decent person. I deserve a pass on this one.

Me: When’re you ever gonna have this kind of time to pin yourself down? Why were you so sweaty?

END OF TRANSCRIPT