COVID-19 Musings - Kru's Control

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So here I am sitting at home, social distancing (who could have predicted that “distance” would ever become a verb), with all the time in the world to write my little blog, but not able to string together two sentences, no less a single coherent argument. So let me offer a little bit of this, a little bit of that, just tidbits that have been percolating in my mind in these strange and perilous times.

Six feet apart. The concept seems relatively simple, so much so that even the average Fox viewer could understand it. Touching anyone but the people with whom you are semi-quarantined is, of course, verboten. That one’s easy. But why six feet apart? As I understand it, droplets that contain the virus can be propelled when people cough or sneeze, and even conversation can involve an inadvertent spraying of that awful microscopic stuff. But if you remain six feet apart you are pretty definitely out of range and therefore safe. So–if you are just walking down a suburban street and another individual is coming in the opposite direction, what are the odds that that such a non-coughing, non-sneezing, non-conversing person passing ever so briefly will do you harm if you are slightly less than six feet apart. The answer is zero, but my wife and I have taken, first, to stepping into the street to avoid them, and now we have even begun to cross the street. I cannot tell you the exact odds of being hit by a car in doing so vs being infected in the moment a single stranger passes nearby. But my advice is to look both ways. Viruses are dangerous, but so are oncoming vehicles. By the way, COVID-19 brings all sorts of new possibilities for old jokes: Why did the chicken cross the road? My guess is that the correct answer in these challenging times involves our favorite verb phrase, social distancing.
Toilet paper. Has anyone seen any? The website of Amazon Prime, which typically promises free delivery of most of my packages within 24-48 hours, tells me that if I order today they can guarantee that my precious cargo will arrive by June 8. I guess truckloads of Charmin and Scott arrive at the grocery store regularly, but there must be some principle of physics that describes how it is possible that it all disappears before it ever appears. And, please advise me, is there a black market where this precious commodity can be obtained? Is the public’s greatest fear that this virus will leave us with nothing with which to wipe our backsides? I can understand a run on Purell or on disinfecting products, but toilet paper? Future historians, looking back on this period of uncertainty, will have much to comment on this—and my guess is that the implications will not be flattering to us.
Like many of my brethren, I must admit that I miss sports. I’ve watched the second half of the Patriots miraculous win over the Atlanta Falcons a couple of times and I’ve peeked at replays of the Red Sox finally winning the World Series in 2004. My deepest darkest secret, something I am loath to admit, is that I’ve even plunged the depths of despair by watching the World Ax Throwing League championships. So, live sports would be nice to have back. Sports in which close contact is at the heart of the activity, basketball, football, and hockey, seem pretty risky for the players, so I’m ruling those out for now. But how about baseball? The infielders stand at their positions, each far apart from one another. The three outfielders roam at great distances from one another in an open pasture, and the pitcher stands a safe 60 feet 6 inches from the batter. For those of us trying to figure how to distance the catcher at least six feet from the batter, let me offer a safe alternative. We forget that catchers are already provided with protective gear, previously designed to keep them safe from baseballs moving at great velocity. But since catchers already wear gloves and masks, why not think just a little out of the box about the current dangers they face. With a little re-engineering, the mask can resemble those that hospital doctors wear, and the mask can easily be complemented with sterile gloves. The densely populated dugout and bullpen will have to become a thing of the past. But, assuming no fans in the stands, players can be perfectly comfy sitting at a distance from one another in the best grandstand seats. Wanting to maintain the true spirit of the game, in the finest tradition of peanut vendors, these highly skilled practitioners of their art can still ply their trade by tossing their shelled products at great distances to… well, we’ll figure that one out eventually.

See, I feel better already. Even in these difficult times, it appears that I am still able to offer cynical advice and pompous opinions to my readers, those few people with nothing better to do (other than watching the World Ax Throwing Championships).

For better or for worse, I’m likely to be back with more. In the meantime, stay safe and well.