I swear to anything holy, I thought “work from home” was a euphemism for “sit on the couch and get paid to watch Schitt’s Creek.” Apparently not. Work from home actually means work from home.
Let me clear, I know I am one of the lucky ones, in all senses of the word. I am in no way complaining, it’s more like I’m observing, the good, the weird and the WTF?
For example, the farmer’s market is still on, and very organized. You can’t touch anything at the stalls, and only one or two people are served at a time. It’s a long wait…Meh, where else do any of us really have to be? I approached the market and was looking for the Bread Alone vendor, “Is this the bread line?” I asked to no one in particular. Well that’s a phrase I never thought I would utter in my lifetime.
As seen on the Nature Channel. Another sign of spring is the early morning emergence of the Inwood Bread Line. The line begins on Isham Street, and moves up to Inwood Hill Park. Residents generally speak in hushed tones, and stand in the traditional spacing of 6ft apart.
Sometimes I get angry.
“Fuck the fuck off” I yell at a commercial or some auto-play video of some rich as fuck celebrity telling me to stay indoors and “we are all in this together.”
NO! WE ARE NOT ALL IN THIS TOGETHER.
You are in this in your eight bedroom, Beverly Hills mansion with a pool, tennis court and probably a fucking water slide. You are in this with your offshore bank account and enough money to buy Lithuania and still have enough left over to buy Luxembourg. You are in this with nothing to lose but your next fucking part in your next mediocre film, playing the part of someone who lost everything in the pandemic , which you’ll dig deep to play because you have no idea what they went through and will get made anyway!
NO. WE ARE NOT IN THIS TOGETHER.
Time to watch Tiger King.