I’m writing this to remind myself that at some point in the future, hopefully when we’re all clear of this coronavirus stuff, I’ll once again be able to laugh off my fears of a global takeover by chupacabra zombies.
I’ve come to Oregon to keep an eye on my parents. We’ve stocked up on food, water and medicine in case things go bad with this virus.
Some of my friends think this is extreme, that I’ve suddenly built a bunker in the woods stocked with shelves of refried beans and thousands of those metallic packets containing astronaut ice cream. In all seriousness, my parents are old, and this virus has taken a particularly heavy toll on old people, so I wanna be around in case … god forbid.
Moreover, based on initial numbers from what we know about its spread, the new virus is possibly more lethal than the Spanish flu of 1918/19. The latter killed tens of millions of people, more than all those who died during the First World War. I’m also troubled by the vulnerability of our supply chains coming out of China, where manufacturing has slowed dramatically because of the country’s clampdown to stop the spread of coronavirus. It seems possible that basic goods we take for granted — goods that magically appear on the shelves of Walmart and Home Depot — might soon not be there.
Lord knows America would be nothing without its hyper-consumerist Walmarts.
So, anyway, given that so many of us can work from home, it just makes sense to do so from Oregon at the moment, I think. Talk about the luxuries of the White Collar Man. And I might very well look back at this post one day and laugh, thinking how much I overreacted. I hope that’s the case, but I don’t wanna take any chances. I’m also readying for the chupacabra zombies …
Oh, I’m leaving a lovely picture of an Oregon sunset. It’s perty: