Post #33 - Jared Kushner, the new Doctor Death

One of the strange things about life in the pandemic is the days are all circular. In the olden days of last December, the day began when you woke up and ended when you went to sleep. The day is now 24 hours and it stops and starts whenever it chooses, like a runaway subway train. Sleep is just another part of the daily experience where I try to comfort Sue and where we find ourselves squeezing each other like tubes of toothpaste. It's also the time when my thoughts go to places where they would best not go.

And I'm not just talking about death or illness or misery. Last night, I went to bed thinking about Jared. Michelle Goldberg had a column in The Times yesterday with the headline, "Jared Kushner is Going to Get Us All Killed." The paper followed up with a long piece about his role in distributing supplies the same way my cheap old Aunt Bess used to hand out nickels. It's like he was everywhere yesterday. Trump even brought him out during the press briefing so the idiot who told his father-in-law that the virus was just a media hoax could now lecture the governors (clearly Cuomo being the target) that based on *his* projections, they're just asking for too much, and he's not going to give it to them unless they prove they need it.

His projections. This is the guy whose father bought him his acceptance into Harvard, who has run everything he has touched into the ground. It occurred to me at some point that we'd be better off if that other Jared, the child molester who represented Subway, was running things.

I also got to thinking about my father-in-law who is a retired geophysicist. What would have happened if he said to me one day, "Jeff, I need help geophysicalling. You can start tomorrow. "

Sure, my qualifications are a mediocre record of achievement as a writer and a complete inability to identify anything in the natural world. Yup, I'd be great at doing geophysicals.

Why would Jared, whose main qualification for the job was, and let's be real here, fucking Ivanka Trump, do any better at saving the nation?

Well, the answer is, he's not, and I'm guessing that a few thousand other NY Times readers had the same kind of night that I did.


When toilet paper became scarce in the grocery, I went on Amazon and ordered one of those bidets, or "butt washers" as I call them. It came the other day and I installed it easily. After using it for a few days, I can report that while the virus might kill me and destroy me emotionally, it's done wonders for my hemorrhoids. 


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