Bats

Back in January, about 160,000 lives ago, we were told that covid-19 was transmitted through the consumption of bats from a Wuhan wet market.  This has not been conclusively established, but if I were Libertarian presidential candidate Jo Jorgensen my first thought after a bat-bite would not be "rabies."  Frankly, it would be "Why has my campaign booked me in this cave?" but after that, a coronavirus test.  Jorgensen has some fairly unhinged ideas, but apparently anti-vaxx isn't one of them.  She just wants to set fire to the last shreds of the social safety net and let private charities succor the poor, a position that didn't help Herbert Hoover in 1932.

Speaking of unpopular incumbents, Trump figured out to draw attention to another of his perpetually failing businesses by summoning the media to the New Jersey golf place to watch him sign an "executive order" cutting benefits for the unemployed from $600 to $400.  It doesn't sound like a very effective way of harvesting their votes, but I'm no high-ticket consultant.  Anyway, it was a chance to blame Democrats because Moscow Mitch sent the Republicans home early and refused to agree on an extension.  "This gives them a great incentive to go back to work," he said, not mentioning where the work has gone or how to find it.  Then there was more rambling about violence in Portland and election stealing.  "What does this have to do with coronavirus?" he wondered, because in his (let's say) mind, that is no longer a thing.

Speaking of election stealing, the residents of this Minneapolis highrise have not received mail for over a week.  Many were hoping to vote by mail in this week's primary.  Hey, DeJoy, here's an idea:  how about you have the postal workers hide the ballots -- they're easy enough to identify -- but make sure people like Mr. Madsen get their medication?  Then you will have served Orange Obesity without actually killing anyone.  If people want to risk their lives by lining up at the polling places, that's their funeral, 'miright?

Speaking of fats fucks who shouldn't hold office, it looks like the Republicans of Maricopa County, Arizona, have had enough of Trump pardonee Joe Arpaio.  Stay away, Joe.

Speaking of embarrassing bodies, Jerry Falwell, Jr., is taking "indefinite leave of absence" from Liberty "University" to get his under control.  The photo of the president/chancellor unzipped at a yacht party is not the image fundamentalists want for their Sunday school, whose "honor code" prohibits alcohol, tobacco, R-rated video games and sexytime.  It's described as playing a prominent role in Republican politics, which means it's fine with locking children in cages, capital punishment, all forms of racism and screwing porn actresses as long as you buy their silence.  Honestly, I'm getting mixed signals here.

Speaking of confusion, Joe Biden was biking near his vacation home when he passed Peter Doocy, who asked if he'd chosen a running mate.  "Yeah," Biden replied. "You."  Because he is just as clever as his dad Steve, young Peter rushed on Fox News with the big scoop.  Then Biden's press secretary, who has the glorious name T.J. Ducklo, had to tweet, "Folks, this is clearly a joke."  And there was much hilarity.  Hey!  Let's cancel the debates and hold a bike race instead.  I just want to watch Trump try to ride one.

Speaking of bikes (the noisy kind), 250,000 easy riders are rolling into Sturgis, South Dakota, for the eightieth annual celebration of whatever.  That's half as many as last year.  Helmets, masks and life insurance optional, of course.  Patients awaiting organ transplants are on high alert.

Speaking of life support, it's Civic Health Month, and doctors, medical students and healthcare institutions are pushing to register voters all over the country.  Be afraid, Ronna McDaniel.  Be very afraid.

Trump loves debt; he said so.  Which is making officials in Scotland a wee bit curious how he paid two hundred million dollars in cash for a golf resort.   They suspect money laundering.  It's good enough for me.  As Mary Trump wrote in her still-number-one-best-selling book, the walls are closing in.