I just read that Amazon Prime may be making a decision to delay shipments of "non-essential products" for up to a month. Let me be clear: I don't know in what universe a 5lb bag of Gummi Bears is considered non-essential. But I know I do NOT want to live there. I almost spilled a nearly-full bottle of Purell hand sanitizer today. I know what you're thinking: What is his address, and will anyone notice if he "disappears"? I do feel somewhat guilty for having a bottle, especially since hand washing works just as well. But sorry, they will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands--and I won't be dead! Because: Purell hand sanitizer! Took my inexorable afternoon walk today. Now I know how a dog feels: just rattle the keys and I’m running all over the house in excitement. People still don’t get social distancing. I’m ready to put a sign on my jacket: KEEP BACK 6 FEET! Seriously people, don’t crowd me. I bite. Has anyone been intimate with their partner since the pestilence? Aside from the general stress weighing us down every waking (and many sleeping) hour, do we even think this is a good idea? Love In The Time of Corona? Putting aside the fact that trolling the bars is a non-starter, even for those cohabitating, is cuddling really a good idea? Because if we haven’t yet infected (or been infected by) those around us, isn’t intimacy pretty much a guaranteed means of doing so? Not if you follow these newly-released official government instructions. CDC-Approved Guidelines for COVID-19-era Intimacy Lack of adherence to the following instructions may result in procreation. 1. Each participating adult shall put on a white Tyvek suit (the kind you see on CSI. C’mon, you know.) The zipper goes in the front, doofus. 2. Place swim or ski goggles over the eyes. If no goggles are available, cover the eyes with Saran Wrap.™ 3. Place mittens or thick ski gloves on hands. (Note: Do NOT use disposable rubber gloves! Those may only be used by medical professionals gettin’ jiggy with it.) 4. Cover the mouth and nose with a bandana. Tie in the back, like you’re robbing a train. 5. Check partner’s health insurance card for future expiration date. 6. Sit side by side on couch. Hold hands. 7. Watch Sophie's Choice. --Josh Piven Starting out with some really distressing news today: My Weekly Screen Time is way the f-k up. My average was four hours per day. Is this healthy? I'm thinking probably not. Then again, compared to, say, going to a movie, it's like being a health nut. It helps that the Wifi is very reliable. I'll be the first person to say this, ever: Thank You, Comcast. You're the best! Is it possible for me to pay more? I'm sorry I even considered cutting the cord. Is anyone besides me ready to put needles under their fingernails if they get one more piece of corporate spam telling us how hard they're working during this very, very difficult time. They're focused on keeping their employees safe! Does that include sick days and paid time off? <Throat clear. Crickets.> I'm so very thankful Delta is removing copies of Sky Magazine from seat back pockets to keep me safe. When can I expect my bag fees to be refunded? Right after the bailout, maybe? I don't want Housebound to get too political. I'd rather stay on subjects we can all agree on, like sex and religion. That said, perhaps we, as Americans, should be called upon by our leaders to make somewhat larger sacrifices than having to use the drive-thru to get our Starbucks Venti Double Mocha Caramel Lattes. (Also: are there Starbucks with drive-thru windows? Is that a Midwest thing? Sorry, never seen it. ) I know we're supposed to strive for normalcy and all that. And yes, I get that one person's spending is another person's salary. But I don't remember reading that in 1941 FDR begged Americans to support the economy by maintaining their Frappucino habits. I don't recall Rosie The Riveter posters with Rosie sucking on a Juul and drinking a macchiato. Is this the best we can do? Probably. Probably it is. Modestly, I feel I am doing my part. As I comedy writer, I'm contributing. Bigly. Entertainment couldn't be more important during what's basically war time. In fact, many, many people are saying that I'm "the Bob Hope of bloggers." I would never say that, but you know what? I think they're right. I am doing a very good job. The best, many are saying. Really, when this is all behind us, the pre-game NFL tributes should be focused on those stationed on the frontlines of this catastrophe: our healthcare workers. But the Superbowl halftime show? Jewish humorists. --Josh Piven Man, I am saving a ton of money on razor blades!
Just to be serious here for a second, when--in the months and probably years to come--we look back on this time in our shared history, I believe the experts will note something truly remarkable. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, Never have so many had more time for personal grooming, and less of a need to do so. Because where are we going? Nowhere. And who are we impressing? Nobody. And speaking of grooming. When I got out of the shower today--at 11 am, because 11 is the new 8--I looked in the mirror. To my shock and horror: Is that gray hair I see? Covid-based, anxiety-driven gray hair? No, no, it’s just the sunlight! Filtering through the window! Except it’s pouring rain. Turns out, I’m going blond. Nice! I don’t know about you, dear housebound reader, but I am not sleeping well. Not. At. All. Even worse than usual, and that’s saying something. The drinking never helps, of course (though it always seems like such a good idea at the time, doesn’t it?) I’ve tried counting sheep. But somehow, the sheep always end up as dead carcasses stacked like cord wood outside emergency rooms. Is it anxiety? Of course it’s f-ing anxiety! Every time I clear my throat, I’m secretly listening for a death rattle. Then, of course, after a few anxious minutes, I calm down. Regular ole’ flu kills tens of thousands each year! I tell myself. (What does it say about our times that that widely-cited statistic counts as the good news?) We don’t shut down the schools all winter, do we? The economy doesn’t grind to a halt for seasonal flu, does it? Cases are falling in China! Canada closed the border? Hell, they were undercharging for our yogurt anyway, weren’t they? Or something? Who needs ‘em! And then--just as I begin to think positive--my wife is kind enough to inform me that her colleagues are microwaving their paper money! Cooking the cash! I swear I am not making this up. So, now I’m thinking, is this like a bag of popcorn, where you need to stand next to the microwave and listen closely to make sure your Jacksons don’t start burning? Wouldn’t boiling them be safer? Should the water be salted first? The irony of this whole thing is that, as a writer, when I go into the office I close my door to be alone, and undistracted, so I can concentrate. Now I’m in enforced semi-isolation and oh how I miss my loud inconsiderate colleagues! Well, miss may be too strong a word. But I hope they are all staying healthy. My office plants, on the other hand, are likely dead. We’ve finally discovered something that can kill a spider plant: COVID-19. --Josh Piven I went running today. Not from the roving gangs of looters; that comes later. Just for exercise.
If there wasn’t a shortage of ventilators, I would claim one. I don’t run. Repeat: I. Don’t. Run. Biking, skiing, walking briskly to beat a thunderstorm: yes. I do those things. But Covfefe--sorry, Covid--has made us do strange things. My super-fit high-school-age daughter (whose middle name might as well be: “I can’t, I have crew”) has been pushing me to join her on her conditioning runs. I finally relented. First thing in the morning (read: 11am) we set out on the river trail. Do people require tape measures to mark off six feet of distance? Jesus. The running went… slowly. The old people on walkers were going faster than I was. The freight train filled with fracked oil crept past me. Somehow the stationary fishermen beat me. Folks, let me state the obvious: now is not the time to be gasping for breath and coughing up a lung in public. (Though admittedly it did cause people to adhere to the six-foot limit.) I’ll just chalk up my sad performance to the high viral load I’m probably carrying. I got the call this afternoon. My office is locking all the doors to the building tonight at 8pm. In fact, to the entire campus. Universities are apparently not life-sustaining businesses. (Much of the faculty will be shocked.) It's now or never to go and rescue as many office plants and steal as many pens and Post It Notes as I can. (Kidding. Those are probably contaminated.) Today, March 20, as I write this, it is 80 degrees and humid in Philadelphia. Just a gentle reminder, dear reader, of the other existential crisis. When’s the $1 Trillion for that arriving? Soon, right? --Josh Piven This is what it’s come to:
In my household, we try to determine if someone’s cough is functionally “wet” or “dry.” Wet = phlegm or too much red wine. Dry = potential virulence. At this point I’m 75% sure all four of us are carriers. I keep a thermometer on standby in case my headache seems non-alcohol-induced. Three days ago I marked a toilet paper roll with the date. (Said no one, ever!) I was curious to see how long our relatively meager stash would last. So, I wrote the date on the inside of the cardboard. Needless to say, with three females in our house, the results are grim: Three days per roll. And that’s the double rolls. The singles go before lunch. I’m either going to institute a five-square limit, or teach the girls “the shake.” Today, for the very first time, I tried to order our groceries via Amazon Prime and have Whole Foods deliver them. In the hour it took me to figure out the system, every single item in my cart was reported as “out of stock.” The f-ing Red Boat fish sauce? Out of stock? Is everyone in Philadelphia who isn’t on a ventilator suddenly making Bahn Mi with Nuoc Chom? The algorithms are laughing at us. Where is Amazon’s vaunted business intelligence? This has to be some major block chain disaster. Whatever the hell block chain is. What’s the Amazon-controlled, 21st century-version of bread lines? I heard a hospital ship is now heading to New York with 1,000 beds. Estimated arrival time: “a few months.” Is it under sail? Are they rowing it here? Didn’t I watch a time-lapse video of the Chinese building an entire hospital in like a week? Granted, some called it a “prison” but… details! My doctor emailed. All elective procedures are delayed. I’m 50 next year. If this thing doesn’t go away soon, my colonoscopy may be rescheduled. Every dark cloud... --Josh Piven Today, we begin on a high note: We’re reducing global carbon emissions big time! We’ll be in good shape going forward just as soon as we revert to a fully hunter/gatherer economy. Mid summer, perhaps. The ice sheets have their revenge. A list of things I really miss: Bad rush hour traffic Bad non-rush hour traffic Traffic My retirement savings The days we knowingly mocked people who used hand sanitizer that “didn’t really do anything” Crowded bars Uncrowded bars Bars The loud parties of the renters on my block The utterly relaxing mode of travel known as flying Hour-long waits at mediocre restaurants Restaurants Being able to do at least one thing offline: shop for groceries Complaining about work colleagues in person When my hands weren't as dry as peanut brittle all the f-ing time When my allergies were just allergies and not potential plague When “food riot” was just a Venezuelan concept Cottony-soft Cottonelle I took a nice walk today and was passed on the sidewalk by a group of 20-somethings strolling side by side. They might as well carry a sign that says “Asymptomatic Super Spreaders.” I’m not a doctor (though I do enjoy doctor jokes) but isn’t social distancing on the short-list for Oxford phrase of the year? Oh the humanity! Because I found the news much too upbeat, last night I watched S3Ep1 of Westworld, followed by Ep1 of The Plot Against America. One imagines a dystopian future, the other imagines a dystopian past. And in between: The present! My wife had to pry the booze and sleeping pills out of my hands. Tonight: Teletubbies. --Josh Piven I measured our mixing bowls today. For my inevitable haircut. Most of them are too big unless I wait at least a month. My stylist recommends dreads. I used a photo filter and, honestly, I look surprisingly good. I could, of course, just shave my head. Which will come in handy during the inevitable run on shampoo. The cat is still unclear on what the hell everyone is doing in the house all day. (That makes two of us.) I’m beginning to think this is more traumatic for him than for us. Little does he know by May he’ll be sharing his food. I am partial to salmon, so there’s that. I was turned away at Trader Joes today. Not because I didn’t have a tattoo or a piercing. Because: social distancing. “The store is too crowded now, please come back later.” Later: like when the only thing left is the rock-hard pre-cut mango. This morning my daughter informed me we were out of toothpaste, and refused to use my “old man” Sensodyne. She also didn’t appreciate my suggestion of using a twig. Back to CVS, where there’s truckloads of medications and still zero toilet paper. Don’t people realize that Metamucil is a binding agent? This afternoon I got a wonderful news alert on my phone: We may all be getting checks from the government! Finally, a Trump Dividend. I’m thinking I’ll spend mine on takeout. Or toilet paper. It’s not clear how much each check will be, but it’s times like these that I’m really glad I bought those three stolen social security numbers from Russian hackers. Be Prepared. I’m beginning to come around to the idea that drinking at home all day and watching Gilligan’s Island may not be that productive. I do want to do my part for the economy. So I’m switching to QVC. I read today that Amazon is about to bring 100,000 new workers online because of the uptick in virus-related demand for delivered goods. If just nine-tenths of those workers are robots, well… that will limit the community spread in Seattle. Can’t Jeff Bezos just send us the checks? --Josh Piven We lost Max today.
We think he’s probably hiding in the basement. Cats aren’t used to having people in the house all day. Likely, he’s just exhausted and taking a long nap. His litter box is full (because Hello! I’m the only one who empties it!) so that’s a good sign. Liquor stores close tonight for the duration of the outbreak. I think we’re probably ok, though on Day 22 we may be switching to Taylor Dry Sherry, or, possibly, Mirin. I’ve calculated that I can drink one quarantini per day for the next ten days before the gin runs out. But on day 5 I’ll have to cut back from three olives to one. It’s bad, people. Went to five stores yesterday looking for toilet paper. They’re limiting purchases so I taught the kids a new game called “Hide The Roll.” I think I’d rather not wipe than use Scott Tissue. Single ply. #firstworldproblems. How do you stay six feet away from someone in an elevator? I took a long walk today because I had to get out of the house. My main concern was: Is the Parking Authority still ticketing, or is this like a parking holiday? A woman yelled across the street at me. She wanted to know if the Art Museum was closed. I told her I was pretty sure all the museums were shut down. She replied with an expletive. It’s good to know there’s still broad community support for arts and culture. My office emailed and told me not to come in, because I am not essential. Was that not obvious before? The kids are doing their school work remotely. Basically, this means that when they’re home, they each have three screens going at the same time. So, business as usual. My younger daughter has set up a remote workstation in one corner of her room. She has a file folder for each subject on her bookshelf and a special backdrop for her videoconferencing. I FaceTime in my underwear. She’ll learn. I’ve gotten really good at hand washing. I think I could be a surgeon. I coughed in public today. Not recommended. Virus and allergy season falling at the same time. Diabolical. Comcast today announced they will offer free Internet to the needy, and unlimited data to everyone else. So, all it took was a global pandemic. --Josh Piven |
AuthorYou know who I am, right? It's in the "bio" section. I'm the guy stuck at home. Archives
May 2020
Categories |