America, Where Are You Now?

With the Trump administration having taken too long, having resisted World Health Organization input, having rejected its own experts' advice and having left us all vulnerable, the Schloss-Blog notes that here we are, with the coronavirus doubling in the population every six days and resources with which to detect it and fight it not yet readily available.

In other words, too many people believed Trump, that the virus would come and go and all would be well. What Trump is doing is dangerous.

And so it occurs to the Schloss-Blog, there is a lot more of less.

• No more ballgames.
• No more cheerleaders.
• No more Eagles "Hotel California" tour.
• No more Pearl Jam tour.
• No more hugs.
• No more high-fives.
• No more handshakes.
• Not even fist bumps.
• No big weddings.
• No bar mitzvahs and bat mitzvahs.

And yee gawds, no more Tom Brady in New England (suck on it Bawston fans).

• No more medical masks left. Medical professionals are being told to wear a bandana, like cowboys on a cattle drive. Don't you want your doctor wearing a bandana when he or she treats you?
• Not enough respirators and ventilators. People can't breath because of this virus, yet we can't help all of them, even some of them, or enough of them.
• No more restaurants.
• No more gatherings of more than 50 people.
• No more gatherings of more than 10 people in some states.

On a personal note, no more joyful occasions for a while.

I am saddened that my mother-in-law's 90th birthday party next month had to be canceled, or at least postponed. She is a lady of grace and deserves to have her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered around her in celebration, but the eldercare facility where she resides is on lockdown - no one in or out.

Three months from now, my daughter was supposed to get married. She broke off the engagement, for all the right reasons, but it likely would've been put off anyway now, or at least the massive party we had planned. Man, did I have a father-daughter dance planned (picture, if you will, "Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing).

There won't be a reunion with my fraternity brothers this year. Maybe 2021. At our ages, that's a "no more" that I need to hear no longer.

No more toilet paper, or canned goods, in some stores.

No more Stephen Colbert late night. Or Jimmy Kimmel. Or Seth Meyers. Or Conan O'Brien. Or even James Corden. 

On TV news sets, co-anchors and guests "social-distance," sitting six feet apart.

Remote interviews are being done with microphones on selfie sticks. Still got yours? Remember when they were banned?

But I can think of no more appropriate close for this post than the words from a song from the Steppenwolf album Monster (Dunhill Records):

America, where are you now
Don't you care about your sons and daughters
Don't you know we need you now
We can't fight alone against the monster

This was written and recorded in ... 1969.

How prophetic.

Good night Mrs. Calabash. And here's to you Mrs. Robinson.

More on my Sunday night show on Radio Free Phoenix.