Laughter has been banned indefinitely during the pandemic, by order of all but a few holdout governors, on the unanimous recommendation of health experts.
Many people, however, found it challenging to abide by the rules early in the crisis, when libertarian Sen. Rand Paul of Kentucky announced that he had caught coronavirus (or, more precisely, that coronavirus had caught him). They had to conceal their amusement by directing laughter and potential airborne germs into bent elbows.
Well, the kind of person who enjoys discovering new evidence that the Political Gods have a sense of humor. Just as there are famously no atheists in a foxhole, it would seem that there are few small-government libertarians in the midst of a pandemic.
Paul himself was out of the Senate in quarantine, so he was spared the indignity a few days later of joining a 96 to zero vote of his colleagues (including many self-described fiscal conservatives) in passing a $2 trillion emergency coronavirus recovery bill, which it is now clear is only a down payment on the eventual cost of federal efforts to protect the country from economic catastrophe after a nationwide shutdown. Ideology, it seems, has been suspended; everyone is counting on Big Government now.
Now that Paul has recovered—he says he felt fine and symptom-free the whole time—it is a good time to ask: Are we sure that the pandemic joke will ultimately be on him?
What if the opposite is true? Far from rendering Paul’s brand of politics irrelevant, it seems possible, even probable, that the wake of the coronavirus will be a powerful boost to the animating spirit of libertarianism: Leave me alone.
Among the questions looming over American politics is about the nature of what promise to be multiple backlashes over different dimensions of the coronavirus crisis. Most obvious is what price President Donald Trump pays for his administration’s tardiness in responding to the contagion in its early stages. Less obvious is what price supporters of activist government pay for the most astounding and disruptive intervention in the everyday life of the nation since World War II.
The imminent libertarian surge is not a sure thing but it is more than a hunch. In informal conversations, one hears the sentiment even from people I know to be fundamentally progressive and inclined to defer to whatever health officials say is responsible and necessary to mitigate the worst effects of coronavirus. It is possible both to support the shutdown and powerfully resent it—the draconian nature of the response, and the widespread perception that to voice skepticism of any aspect of its necessity is outside respectable bounds.
The absolutist nature of the country’s shutdown and the economic rescue package have democratic consent—enacted by a bipartisan roster of governors and overwhelming votes in Congress—but it was the kind of consent achieved by warning would-be dissenters, Are you serious? There is no choice!
Almost always, this is an illusion. Ideology hasn’t been suspended. It has beenforcibly suppressed—in ways that inevitably will come roaring back, sometimes in highly toxic ways.
The most vivid example in American history likely was around World War II. As the world was aflame, but the United States not yet engaged in hostilities, the country was bitterly and intensely divided over the all-consuming question of that era: intervention or isolation. Then came Pearl Harbor, and the debate ended in an instant. Isolationism looked to be a defunct ideological force. Except it wasn’t really. The movement’s essential spirit—fear of corrupt and scheming interests beyond American borders—found new and malicious expression in McCarthyism in the late 1940s and early 1950s.
In the modern era, two other moments of crisis produced the illusion of ideological interruptus. Recall that the votes authorizing war with Iraq in 2002 and the bailout of banks during the financial crisis of 2008 were passed in the Senate with majority support of both parties. Both issues, Iraq and the bailout, generated fierce ideological backlashes that echo to this day.
We will learn over the course of 2020 what relevance thesefamiliar ideological dynamics have to the politics of pandemic. Do you trust Trump and his impulsive, personality-driven style is the more flamboyant question. Do you trust interventionist government—supported by nearly all governors of both parties, following the dictates of health professionals—is the more fundamental question.
The pandemic response arguably could represent a caricature of what critics disdain about liberalism. Government, responding in a panicky way to headlines and hysteria, ran roughshod over individual freedom and the private sector, a problem whose only remedy was even more remorseless expansion of government.
The fact that even tough-minded Republican governors like Larry Hogan of Maryland or Mike DeWine of Ohio ordered shutdowns to curb coronavirus weakens the intellectual case for the second argument. But what matters politically is the emotional case, which looks to be strong. There were protesters in Ohio, Michigan and elsewhere this week demanding faster action to lift stay-at-home orders and reopen the economy.
These protesters surely would cite the widespread shaming of people who go to the beach instead of sheltering at home or refuse to wear masks as evidence of the scolding, sanctimonious character of the supposedly progressive mind.
Scolding, meanwhile, brings us back to Rand Paul and his not especially nasty case of Covid-19. Laughter may be forbidden in the pandemic but finger-wagging is encouraged, so long as it’s done from a distance of 6 feet or more. Paul was excoriated by many for working out at the Senate gym while awaiting his coronavirus test results.
He responded that he took a test only out of an abundance of caution on his own initiative, not because he was feeling symptoms or required by official guidelines. Maybe so, but the consensus was clear: shame on him.
But the shame game can be tricky for accusers no less than accused. Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot has drawn praise, and some mockery, for driving around Chicago sternly scolding people at parks and trails to go home. But then she got skewered when she personally ignored the order that haircuts are a verboten nonessential activity. Lightfoot responded that as mayor she is the “public face of this city” and has to look good. She said her stylist was wearing gloves and mask, though when they posed on social media neither was wearing those.
The controversy was making it hard, once again, to ignore the no-laughing rule. But it highlighted a serious point: The nature of the crisis and stay-at-home orders represent a collision of public policy with the intimate details of daily life.
Even nonlibertarians, for instance, might be glad to have someone like Paul being heard about the proper rules if government proceeds with proposals to use mobile phone apps to track the movements of people who test positive for coronavirus. The pandemic may be one of those historical moments that rewrite ideological lines—but we can be sure it won’t erase them.
There is a moral core to the argument against draconian use of stay-at-home orders that has yet to be well articulated in the public sphere.
Reactionary governmental responses to the spread of coronavirus have been catastrophic. We have inflicted job loss upon tens of millions of American workers. We have put a quarter of small businesses at risk of permanently shutting down. And we have inflicted untold mental distress upon hundreds of millions. All this in the last few weeks.
Yet extreme response measures still hold an aura of moral superiority for many. There is a touch of the surreal in the oblivious manner with which many talking heads have savagely put down any resistance to intrusive measures with a simplistic, “This will save lives,” or, “Our goal must be to minimize deaths.”
Point out the compounded economic and personal hardship that our response has inflicted, and in many quarters you will meet at best the dismissive retort that one can’t measure lives against the economy and at worst with the accusation that you are a selfish &^%$# who values your freedom over others’ wellbeing.
Now, there is a kernel of insight in this response. As a severe critic of libertarianism, I find it heartening that people are expressing at least subconscious recognition that freedom is not an intrinsic good. Valuable as it is, it is only a means to human excellence and happiness. So if the tradeoff were really as simple as amoral freedom versus the wellbeing of the nation, then this response would be entirely appropriate.
What is disheartening, on the other hand, is the intense poverty of moral vision that the response reveals. It takes for granted the moral irrelevance of work, study, human interaction, sightseeing, dating, going to the gym, attending sacred services, and all of the million and one things that the current restrictions have largely put on hold.
It is not true that those who value the plethora of activities that make up human life are prioritizing selfishness over the real wellbeing of the nation. Exactly the contrary. Months of people’s lives are slipping away forever. It is those who dismiss that who devalue the human.
The jobs we have taken from tens of millions of our fellow citizens cannot simply be dismissed as amoral dollars and cents. They are sources of meaning and provision, arenas of excellence of profound moral worth—and especially valuable, one might add, to the less economically privileged, who are disproportionately suffering under our new rules.
The hundreds of thousands of small businesses that we are driving into the ground are not simply abstract “companies.” They represent the investment of the dreams and life work of millions of our fellow citizens. A class is not merely an instrument for increasing average worker productivity. It is a sacred activity—opening the mind to truth, crafting the character, unfolding the understanding.
The personal, face-to-face human interactions that we have cut off at the source are the very stuff of meaningful life. To respond that all of these activities can be moved online would be to engage in an exercise in self-delusion.
Many have partial online substitutes, but many do not, and none of the substitutes fully compensates even where they do exist. We are embodied persons. We are not merely immaterial souls. There is no wireless substitute for a hug, a firm handshake, or beers and a long evening of conversation, face to face.
So the barbaric, panicky elevation of mere life as the only good worth conserving is becoming increasingly shameful. Please do not misunderstand. I do not use the word “mere” to denigrate the value of human life. Rather, it is the morally impoverished elevation of simple biological subsistence to the exclusion of all those things that make up a real, meaningful life that is becoming more and more disgraceful as the weeks pass on.
It is supposed to be reassuring when various establishments inform me that “Your safety is our first concern.” Dear heaven above, I hope not! Excellence? Virtue? Yes. Development as a complete human being? Sure. But safety? Our first concern?
Has our society become so pampered that we have forgotten we live in a world where risk is an intrinsic part of every moment of every life? Where tens of thousands of people die in car crashes every year? Where people trade years of life for an increased daily intake of sugar and salt? Where people may kill you for little reason, bad reason, or no reason at all?
All worthwhile activities always involve risk of death—to oneself and others. That is no excuse for assuming a fetal position and failing to live one’s life. Complete human beings will live in awareness and acceptance of their own and others’ mortality.
As the sense of panic caused by the unfamiliarity of the new virus passes away, the quality of much elite moral discourse over the past few weeks will hopefully be recognized for the embarrassment it is. Where is the vitality that led a young Jewish queen to say, “If I perish, I perish?” That led a mad German genius to say “You have given your life to your work and now your work has taken your life. Therefore I will bury you with my own hands”?
That led a medieval Japanese warlord to counsel that people “should not bring on eternal disgrace by solicitude for their limited lives…Sneaking past the proper time to die, they regret it afterward”? That led a doomed Greek king to laugh at a call to surrender his arms with the laconic witticism, “Coming, take!”? That has led generations of faithful Christians to say with the Psalmist, “The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me?”
This is not a call to throw aside all precautions and simply embrace the worst that can happen. Preserving biological life is a good, as well. Prudent safety measures are of course called for. And those of us who are at low risk should cheerfully bear with some constraints on our behavior for the sake of those who face the danger more directly.
But: Our discussion of what constitutes prudent safety measures should take place in the context of the awareness that there are far worse things than death, and refusing to live for fear of death is one of them. A healthy human life is lived in recognition of the fact that we all have to die. The question is whether we will remember to teach ourselves what it means to live.
The actions of major institutions communicate moral messages that deeply affect people’s subconscious minds.
The actions of major institutions communicate moral messages that deeply affect people’s subconscious minds. I fear the collective response of our governmental and social institutions to this crisis is in great danger of providing an experiment in the inculcation of cowardice.
The media have gone to great lengths to make sure young people know that they too are at risk: “Look out! Don’t do things that are worthwhile! You might die!” But a brief glance at the numbers is enough to confirm that if this is the real concern, the authors of these articles have a breathtaking case of the helicopter parenting syndrome.
An appeal to duty to care for others may be called for. This attempt to corrupt our moral character is not. Yes, there’s a chance we may die. We know. It’s okay. Calm down.
Of course, the hardest bit of this argument for the unreflecting to swallow is that living life puts others at risk as well as oneself. But as anyone who has stopped to think about it realizes, that too is an inescapable fact of life. Every drive to the grocery store imposes real risk of death upon others. So does buying a family pet. So does living around people, period. I hope it isn’t news to anyone that we all carry germs, at all times.
The same argument applies. Reasonable precautions make sense. But to cease living for fear or guilt over inevitable deaths is wrong. No one would be better off if we all made ourselves miserable “for others.” And none of us has a right to impose massive burdens on others for the sake of preventing a small risk of death to ourselves.
Too great a part of the country’s moral discourse over the past few weeks has resembled nothing so much as chorus of decadent, privileged elites demanding that the entire country abandon life and participate in the most rigorous of measures—cramping lives and destroying livelihoods regardless of real need—to diminish their panic in the face of possible deaths. It is time to raise our chins and be a bit more stoic about things going forward.
And then, to my amazement, I found it. Hypebeast introduces:
Upgraded from its 2019 model, Rezvani has now created the world’s most powerful production SUV with the 2020 Rezvani Tank.
The SUV — which the company calls an “Extreme Utility Vehicle” — is now powered by a Dodge Demon 6.2L supercharged V8 engine, capable of producing 1,000 horsepower, along with 870 pound-feet of torque. With special FOX suspension, 16-inch 8-piston caliper brakes, and T6061 aircraft-grade aluminium design wheels, the on-demand four-wheel-drive vehicle excels in the off-road arena.
Rezvani’s military-inspired SUV also comes equipped with an array of mil-spec tech, including full ballistic armor, electromagnetic pulse protection, and thermal night vision. The top of the windshield is equipped with high intensity LEDs capable of turning night into day. As for the interior, Rezvani has kitted out the SUV with white leather panelling and seats that can be heated or cooled, a 7.9-inch central infotainment screen, and a Focal sound system.
Prices start at $155,000 USD for the 2020 Rezvani Tank, and orders are already being taken. Head over to the brand’s site to learn more now.
Or go to YouTube:
Choice of engines from standard V-6 (from Chrysler, 3.6 liters and 285 horsepower) to 1,000-horsepower V-8, plus a six-cylinder diesel option. And — be still my beating heart — a choice of an eight-speed automatic or a six-speed manual transmission.
This is not necessarily the largest vehicle out there; it’s about the same size as the largest Jeep Wrangler, a few inches shorter than a Jeep Grand Cherokee, and a full foot shorter than a Honda Pilot. (More on that later.)
It seems a bit analogous to the Carbon Motors police car, which was supposed to revolutionize police vehicles as a purpose-built squad car, with BMW diesel engine, built-in emergency lights and radio, and other features. In part because of the bad timing of the Great Recession, only one of what was inevitably called the “RoboCop” car was built.
The Carbon prototype sold at auction for $74,000 in 2014.
Rezvani has managed to build more than one. Rezvani also has managed to generate positive PR from reviews, including:
TopGear: “The face may be aggressive, but it masks a vehicle that’s deeply likeable. The Rezvani Tank is ready for nuclear war.”
The Driver: “You could rule the roads like the evil genius that you’ve always wanted to be.”
Motor1: “For what you pay the Rezvani Tank offers a lot. It looks good, it’s powerful and with optional features you can’t get on any other SUV.”
Univision: “Rezvani ofrece el 4 x 4 más radical que merece una gran película de acción.” I mean, “Rezvani offers the most radical 4 x 4 deserving of a major action film.”
This screams for configuration, don’t you think? And to not suck too much money out of my employer, I’ll start with the $159,000 base version, instead of the Military Edition for another $100,000, or the TankX, which doubles the price to $349,000. (At these prices the Tank may cost more than what many weekly newspapers are worth at the moment.)
I chose red just for how it photographs. There is a Military Green, but it’s not particularly attractive. I could choose a custom color, for $5,000, which seems like a bargain compared with some of the other options (such as in the next paragraph).
Much as I like the idea of a 1,000-horsepower V-8 (the Dodge Demon), I’m not sure that’s worth $149,000. So instead I will economize and, for $40,000, take the SRT 6.4-liter Hemi V-8 and its mere 500 horsepower. (The transmission choice should be obvious.) I decided to splurge on the Sport Exhaust, for $1,750. To stop those 500 horsepower, I spent $5,600 on the Big Brake Kit with eight-piston calipers and 16-inch disc brake rotors.
Towing ability is important, so I added the Towing Package (Dana 60 rear end and tow hitch, for $8,500). Off-road ability may be important, so I added the 2.5 Fox shocks (two per wheel) and four-inch lift kit, for $3,500. On the front end, I chose the steel front bumper and winch, for $5,500. Between the two ends, I chose the Interior Lighting Package (interior and footwell lighting), for $2,500, and in case I have to shoot night photos when people may not want me to, I chose the Thermal Night Vision Package, for $6,500, along with side ($850) and Black Vue front and rear cameras ($500). (The Black Vue cameras record continuously to The Cloud, by the way.)
Again to show I’m not just trying to waste money, I got the Nappa leather seats ($3,500), but not the leather interior ($3,500 more), though I did get the heated seats ($500). And I went with the Premium audio system (four Audison speakers, five-channel amplifier, 10-inch subwoofer, for $4,500) instead of the Ultimate ($10,000 for six Focal speakers, a four-channel amp, two JKL Audio subwoofers and two custom amp racks). If you choose to spend $500 to match your instrument color to your vehicle, you get …
I think it only wise to get the center console safe ($950), dual battery ($2,500), auxiliary gas tank ($7,500), and, of course, electromagnetic pulse protection ($2,500), because it’s a jungle out there.
Total it up, and this can be mine for just $212,150, plus whatever sales tax is in California. I have to scrape up $35,000 for a deposit, and then pay the rest upon completion in 10 to 12 weeks.
So what’s wrong with this? (Besides the concept that a journalist could afford a $212,150 truck, that is.) For one thing, at Cherokee size the Tank seems, believe it or don’t, on the small side. The journalist needs room to, for instance, plug cameras into laptops to download or upload photos, or room to write on said laptop. Room is also needed for the public-service-band radio with which to monitor what police and firefighters are doing. I can’t tell from online views how much room there is. (Which made me think, when I first started this exercise, that the ideal base vehicle was a full-size pickup or SUV.)
It appears to lack comprehensive instrumentation, which should include a voltmeter and oil pressure gauge. A sunroof also might be useful, and that is not the Starry Night Headliner (for $6,250).
At $212,000 I’m not buying. (For one thing, Powerball and Mega Millions jackpots have shrunk in the coronavirus world.)
For those who don’t like the SUV idea, though, Rezvani does have an alternative …
… the Beast, a sports car powered by a Honda racing engine.
Things are bad and getting worse for Wisconsin’s $22 billion tourism industry.
But Wisconsin Department of Tourism Secretary-designee Sara Meaney is standing by her boss’ plan to slowly reopen Wisconsin — a cure for a gravely ill economy that many argue is worse than the disease.
“Yesterday, Governor Evers released the Badger Bounce Back plan, which clearly outlines phases and important criteria for us to be able to reopen our economy, including steps to ensure our workers and our businesses are prepared to reopen as soon as it is safe to do so,” Meaney wrote Tuesday in an email to Sen. Andre Jacque (R-De Pere) and Rep. Travis Tranel (R-Cuba City).
The lawmakers are members of the Governor’s Council on Tourism. They would like the council or any tourism body Meaney deems appropriate to, for the love of God, do something to help the restaurants, hotels, waterparks, fishing resorts, and myriad other tourism-dependent businesses that could find themselves out of business, if the lockdown drags on.
“As I have heard from businesses throughout my district, if the re-opening of the economy is delayed as long as the Governor currently suggests, or longer, a significant percentage of them will not be able to re-open, period,” Jacque wrote in a follow-up letter to Meaney and Council on Tourism Chairman Joe Klimczak.
Urgency doesn’t seem to be the secretary-designee’s speciality. She told the lawmakers that the next meeting of the Governor’s Council on Tourism is scheduled to take place at the Governor’s Conference on Tourism, but the meeting will likely have to be rescheduled “as a result of the public health emergency.”
The Governor’s Conference of Tourism in Madison is slated to begin on May 26, the date Team Evers’ extended emergency lockdown order is supposed to expire.
May 26 is another important date. It’s the day after Memorial Day Weekend — the unofficial kickoff to summer. The tree-day holiday weekend, which generates an estimated $36 billion to the U.S. economy, is massively important to the tourism industry.
But Evers’ social-distancing order and glacially slow plan to reopen the state could mean limited tourism-related businesses are opened by then.
While regional tourism officials who spoke to Empower Wisconsin say it’s important to follow the guidance of health officials during the pandemic, they worry about unprecedented damage to the industry.
“Our hotels have single-digit or teens (percentages) in occupancy,” said Brenda Krainik, director of marketing and communications for the Greater Green Bay Area Convention and Visitors Bureau.
Leah Hauck, communications director for the Wisconsin Dells Visitor & Convention Bureau, said the impact “will be detrimental.” The “Waterpark capital of the world,” which generated about $1.2 billion in direct travel spending alone in 2018, is a significant player in Wisconsin’s tourism industry.
Meaney asserts the government can fill the gap. Empower Wisconsin obtained a letter from the secretary-designee urging local tourism officials and businesses to lobby the state Legislature to pass Evers’ original $700 million-plus COVID-19 response package. She advises the lawmakers writing to her to encourage legislative leadership to call the Legislature back into session and deliver more money.
“Will you urge the Legislature to reconvene to provide critical assistance for the tourism industry as proposed by Governor Tony Evers, which includes $150 million for WEDC for small businesses and $5M in tourism marketing grants to kickstart our industry? “ the tourism secretary-designee wrote in her response to Jacque and Tranel.
More government money thrown at the problem isn’t going to cut it, critics say. It’s time for a real plan to open up Wisconsin, and to save the tourism trade, they say.
“(I)t is clear we must do this important work now and come together with a workable plan before businesses of so many types in my area and across the state are forced to close permanently,” Jacque wrote.
Krainik said it’s not for tourism to say when it’s safe to resume business. She’ll leave that up to “the professionals.” But there is a sad reality in play.
“Tourism relies heavily on small business, whether restaurants or retail or attractions. With all of them closed there is nothing virtual that will replace what it means to have visitors come through your door,” the Green Bay tourism official said.
Memorial Day weekend means a lot more in this state than just the start of summer tourism. Many rural-area high schools hold graduations Friday through Sunday. Patriotic areas of the state hold Memorial Day observances. As a result of the latter, Memorial Day also serves as sort of a second Veterans Day (or a Veterans Day with nicer weather). At the same time, given that Wisconsin’s culture doesn’t observe the Day of the Dead (as Latin American countries do) Nov. 1, many families visit cemeteries over Memorial Day weekend.
None of that will be allowed to take place by Evers.
(That should be “Capitol,” referring to the building, not the city, by the way.)
Ersatz. Astroturf. Piltdown Man. Hitler’s Diary. Jussie Smollet. No one really thinks America should begin to reopen from the novel coronavirus lockdown! …
That rally planned for [today], Friday (04-24-2020) on the grounds of the WI State Capitol? It’s a stage show, a carnival of colorfulcharacters — every one of them paid piece rate for their performance. Marionettes whose strings are being pulled by various Koch Bros., alive and dead.
That’s who’s really behind the ‘Reopen’ protests, Lisa Graves informs NY Times readers.“They are anything but spontaneous,” she assures.
… The protests playing out now [to protest against governors seeking to mitigate the Covid-19 death toll ] have the same feel as the Tea Party protests aided by Koch-financed Americans for Prosperity and others a decade ago — and with good reason: Early evidence suggests they are not organic but a brush fire being stoked by some of the same people and money that built the Tea Party.
That’s “early evidence” you can use to make sense of the news, thanks to experts carefully curated and vetted by the New York Times. Because it has “the same feel.”
Ms. Graves, a resident of the Town of Middleton WI, conjures the usual nine degrees of separation that is supposed to prove causation. She’s got grocery string criss-crossing a dozen newspaper clippings, all thumb-tacked to her bulletin board like a hallucinogenic spider maze. Her Big Reveal: ReopenAmerica was created in the Koch Bros. lah-BOR-atory in service of The Great Conservative Conspiracy. Besides the Koch Bros. …
Others are providing legal assistance as well … a Facebook group called Reopen NC has retained the legal services of Michael Best & Friedrich, a Wisconsin law firm whose clients include President Trump. The firm is well known for its work with dark-money groups that fought the recall of the Koch ally Gov. Scott Walker of Wisconsin and waged war on unions.
(Boo! Hiss!)
Then there’s the Convention of States, established in 2015 with a big contribution from the conservative hedge fund billionaire Robert Mercer. … Stephen Moore — a fellow at the Heritage Foundation …
And on and on. Hillary’s Great Conservative Conspiracy hatched on orders “from the super-rich and their front groups” to profit off the deaths of the dumfuks stupid enough to vote Trump and shop at Walmart (which, BTW, remains open.) (Boos! Hiss!) All so the Koch Boys can sell more Koch.
For good measure, Ms. Lisa Graves slips the race card out of her sleeve. When was the Tea Party formed? Why, “right after America elected its first black president.” (Boo! Hiss!)
Quarantine Chicago. “With 19 dead, 47 more wounded by gunfire, Chicago sees most violent 5-day span of 2020.” (More here.) H/T Paula Fitz.
Blaska’s Bottom Line: Here’s how you know higher powers are NOT behind Friday’s Reopen Wisconsin rally: the dumfuks — a minority of a minority to be certain — will cater to the news media’s biases. They will hoist battle flags, show off their firearms, display placards of Tony in an SS uniform, and eschew face masks. A well financed and managed rally would stay on message. This one will not.
But they will pick up after themselves.
Confederate flags are a stupid idea because they represent the losing side, the defeat of which cost 12,000 Wisconsin lives. So are the Trump 2020 signs I predict you’ll see, because this has nothing to do with Trump; it has to do with Gov. Tony Evers and his one-size-fits-all Safer-at-Home edicts, which are guaranteed to keep the state closed for businesses the rest of the year.
WISN radio’s Mark Belling pointed out the stark contrast between the Act 10 protests of Recallarama and today’s protest. The first side was bitching about having to pay (less than what the people paying their salaries) for their health insurance (that is an order of magnitude better than what the people paying their salaries get); today’s protesters will be protesting for the right to go to work to provide for their families.
The media has been somewhat blind to protests about Safer at Home because they were considered an “essential” occupation. (That’s called “co-opting.”) That does not mean the media has not been laying off people due to shrinkage in advertising. Reporters covering the protests might, before they head to the Capitol, take a look at their own publications (and it applies to broadcast too, I’m sure), and notice which of their advertisers aren’t advertising now.
If you spend much time on social media you may have recently seen this:
For those who wonder what the rest said, both views are written by a cat and a dog each named Jason Gay:
America Needs To Get Back to Work
By A Cat
Enough is enough. American business has taken a historic plunge over the past month. It’s time to consider a practical plan for protecting public health—while also allowing for a return to work and, hopefully, a revival of the economy.
Oh, who am I kidding?
On behalf of cats everywhere, I’ll just say it: We want everyone out of the house.
It was cute for a while, but the party is over. We’re sick of this quarantine, shelter-in-place directive.
Sheltering in place? That’s a cat’s job. Cats invented sheltering in place—sleeping in the windowsill, the corner of the couch, the sock drawer in the closet and, if it gets a little too noisy, under the bed, eyes open, annoyed. Cats know what it takes to stay home all the time. We’re just tired of sharing our home with everybody else.
Have we liked getting snacks at unexpected hours? Sure. Is it nice to roll around on that warm laptop keyboard during Zoom calls? Sure is. Warm keyboards are heaven.
But it’s gotten to be too much. The other day I walked into the kitchen and saw someone standing in my 9 a.m. sun spot. So rude. That sun spot is only there for 15 minutes a day!
We (sort of) love you, and appreciate the occasional pats on the head, but cats are not the most social creatures. Sure, there are some exceptions. You might have one of those cats who actually enjoys human company. Congratulations.
But the vast majority of us—
BIRD OUTSIDE THE WINDOW! MUST! GET! BIRD!
Sorry. Where was I? Right. The vast majority of cats are ready for you to get back to work. Or just leave the house for longer than 15 minutes.
Please consider it. Not for America. For cats.
Why Not Work at Home Forever?
By A Dog
As America debates a return to work, it’s important not to rush. We need to balance the economy against the extremely valid concerns about public health and protecting lives.
And walks. We need to think about all of the walks.
And ball. We need to also chase the ball. Lots and lots.
Look: I’m a dog. I’m not some public intellectual. I’m a good, good dog, most of the time, but I just ate half of a baseball glove in the garage. I also knocked over a potted plant in the living room. I’m sorry. I’m a dog. What do you want?
The important thing is: Dogs want you to stay. These past four weeks, they have been some of the greatest weeks of our lives. You’re there in the morning. You’re there in the evening. You’re there at lunch. It’s the best.
And the walks…we’ve never been so fit in our lives! There’s the 8:30 a.m. walk, the 11:15 a.m. walk, the 1 p.m. walk, the 3 p.m. walk, the 7 p.m. walk, and, if we’re lucky, a 9:30 p.m. walk.
Sometimes you throw the ball. And then I get the ball and bring it back to you. And then you throw the ball again, and I bring it back again. And again. And again. And again. Bliss.
I’m sure the cats are telling you they’ve had it. Never trust a cat. They’re rude animals. They don’t appreciate you.
But dogs understand what you bring to the table. We love having you at home. Stay. Stay forever. We promise to be a good dog. Or at least a pretty good dog.
Steve Prestegard.com: The Presteblog 