I thought I might become an Emily St. John Mandel compleatist.
I took The Lola Quartet out of the library.
On page 31, I ran across this sentence—“She’d played poker a few times in high school, gathered with friends in someone’s parents’ basement on boring Friday nights”—and I would have hurled the book across the room if it hadn’t been on a Kindle.
The Lola Quartet is set in south Florida.
Houses in South Florida don’t have basements: The water table is too high.
Do your fuckin’ research, beyatch. I don’t care if novels are on ventilators, and reviewers are creaming themselves touting you as one of the last remaining hopes for their recovery!
I might continue reading The Lola Quartet anyway. I’m always interested in how literary stylists evolve.
Then again, I might look for a novelization of The Real Housewives of New York. Or Love Island!
Else? I had a long texting session last night with a rightwing pal who sent me a link from The Daily Wire purporting to prove that coronavirus statistics are actually being over-counted.
“All that proves is that Ben Shapiro doesn’t know how coroners determine ‘cause of death,’” I told him.
My rightwing pal is a merry chap who is contemplating the demise of a modest but successful commercial real estate empire that he built from scratch in the San Diego area.
I feel for him, and I also agree: The lockdown is not sustainable.
Why do progressives continue to support a lockdown that was initially put in place to “flatten the curve,” an aim that seems to have been accomplished?
Because members of the Blue Church are very willing to accept damage to the economy since a member of the Red Church is President. In fact, the more damage to the economy, the greater the chance that Trump will not be elected.
Contrariwise, as Tweedledee remarked to Alice in Through the Looking Glass, members of the Red Church are less willing to accept damage to the economy because a member of the Red Church is President, and they want him to be reelected.
I really hate the degree to which this public health crisis has been politicized.
Eventually, we stopped talking about the economic impact of the novel coronavirus—a topic with which I’m actually beginning to feel bored—and began making top ten lists of the Best and Worst Presidents.
Washington was his Number One. “He had the hard job. He had to kickstart the whole damn thing!”
Lincoln was his Number Two.
His Number Three was a bit of a shocker: “Andrew Jackson! Because he did the unthinkable and broke the national bank!”
My top three would probably be Lincoln, FDR… and Lyndon Johnson. True, Johnson had Vietnam, but it was a war he inherited, and I, at least, never had the sense that his heart was in it; he just didn’t see a politically expedient way to wiggle out of it. Johnson did manage to get an enormous amount of socially progressive legislation passed in his six years in office.
Interestingly, we both fingered George W. Bush among the worst Presidents.
Else else? I tromped the Walkway. The trees are now in full foliage. From the vantage point of the bridge, it’s easy to see how idiot city planners in thrall to Evil Corp a/k/a IBM completely ruined Poughkeepsie:
I have a shitload of work to do today.
And no interest in doing any of it.
Cross-posted from Dreamwidth