Housebound - Day 67

Simpler times! Photo by Caleb Oquendo

I finally got a real haircut today. Like from a real professional barber. (Well, he prefers “hairdresser,” but I like “beautician.”)  It was expensive, traveling to Georgia and all, but well worth it. Plus, they threw in a tattoo!
 
When he saw what my wife and kids had done to my hair, his first question was ”Have you retained a good attorney?” For the past month, most people just assumed I’d been lobotomized. That, or attacked by rats. Now I finally know how a poodle feels when it’s time for the summer cut: GET RID OF IT ALL!
 
​A new crop of “we’re here for you” corporate spam arrives daily. My current favorite is Airbnb. Not content to try to sell us online “experiences,” they are now offering  “photos of stunning Airbnb spaces free to download” which “make great backgrounds for video calls.” Right, because I’m not really stumbling into Week 9 in my filthy house, I’m actually in Bali! That screaming? Those aren’t my kids, those are seagulls. Balinese seagulls!
 
Citicard’s was pretty rich too. They are SO glad I’ve used online channels to contact them, because they are REALLY busy (trying to collect from millions of unemployed card holders, no doubt). Online channels. Because I usually just swing by the ole credit card storefront shop on Main Street here in 1955. And of course Comcast has eliminated late fees: If by “eliminate” you mean still charging them, but then willing to remove them if you call to complain. Guess that’s what passes for corporate largesse in the COVID era.
 
Meanwhile Major League Baseball says that it might re-start games, but without fans in the stands (won’t be much different for the Phillies). Which leads to the existential question: If a player scratches his crotch and no one sees it, did it really happen?
 
Finally, back at the asylum, Trump says he’s  taking Hydroxychloroquine to ward off COVID. Folks, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this means that malaria probably won’t get him
 
-- Josh Piven