America - Still # 1

Do you want to know the most telling statistics of this pandemic? The United States has 4% of the world's population and approximately 32% of the reported cases of Covid 19. We are, as of April 26 quickly closing in on a 1,000,000 infected and 50,000 dead.

We have almost five times the cases as Spain, number two on a list of the best of the worst. But even more astounding is that New York State, at almost 300,000, has far more Covid 19 patients than any other COUNTRY in the world. 

By any metric we have failed miserably in our attempts to control the spread of this disease. The reports are replete with our missteps, our lack of vision, our inability to marshall assets, to restrain movement early enough, always two steps behind, always reacting instead of acting.

As we watch some of those other nations halted in their tracks by this virus begin their first steps towards reemerging, in America we are left to contemplate how the exceptionalism we have taken for granted our entire lives has now completely vanished. 

How our understanding of our superior capacity was but a mirage. That no matter the size of our army, or the monies we are capable of spending, we are far weaker, far more lumbering than we ever admitted. Far less prepared for the unimaginable that we ever imagined.

Donald Trump has exposed the vulnerabilities in our system through his petty grievances, his hubris, his ignorance, his incompetence. And a disease which understands nothing about America's supposed greatness, which distinguishes not between poor and rich, has made us look terribly small.

America still #1 by orders of magnitude. Only on the wrong chart. Exceptional now for all the wrong reasons.

Missing In Inaction

("Fifty Thousand Americans Dead from the Coronavirus and a President Who Refuses to Mourn Them")

We have witnessed his response to the cascade of mass shootings, to the sight of children in cages. His muted words, a few random forced tones of empathy, rung out of him, hollow and meaningless. His is a soul without home, compassion for the plight of others not within his emotional vocabulary. His universe consumed with concern for the well being of a population of one.

So why would we possibly anticipate anything different now? 

He is morally bankrupt. Inflicting pain on the downtrodden, on those in the most dire need, has never even caused a flicker of remorse in Mr. Trump.

Flying a flag at half staff, providing a day of national mourning or even a moment of national silence to recognize our loss would never even be within this man's contemplation. 

Death has descended upon our country in suffocating numbers, a relentless foe immune to our cries. We will have to grieve, have to heal, on our own. We have no other choice for our President is missing in inaction.

A Close Shave

I shall be shaving shortly. I thought you would want to know.

Over the past four decades or so I have periodically grown a beard, mainly as a way to lessen the possibility of anyone counting the hair follicles on top of my head. My one and a half year old granddaughter, who can only reach the number three before giving up, could successfully conclude this exercise if she undertook it. Follically challenged is how one of my friends describes me.

In addition to my efforts at distraction having been wholly unsuccessful, my mother and sister always told me I looked better clean shaven (and I have forever believed everything they stated). Even at 68, and despite the fact my mom passed away more than 3 years ago, I still don't want to upset her. Thus, the beard has never been more than ephemeral companion.

Yet, with the self isolation of this pandemic, I, along with seemingly half the universe, have put my razor into hibernation.  I was relatively late to this game, now but about two weeks removed from removing previously unwanted hair. Unlike my son, who can apparently grow a beard just by thinking about it, my progress is painstakingly slow. Only now is the hint of my effort first taking shape.

So, it was more than a little disconcerting when I awoke this morning to the text message from my son "some bad news." Underneath was a headline from a recent article in the NY Times, "Maybe Consider Shaving That Pandemic Beard."

I already knew that having facial hair was a problem in that it prevented proper fit of an N95 mask. But I have had no occasion to utilize one, as my last true public exposure was about the time the President was informing us this would all magically disappear one day.

However it turns out that my habit of rubbing my new growth several hundred times an hour is also fraught with potential peril. And who really needs one more reason to worry these days? I already wash my hands every time a car passes outside or the sun disappears behind a cloud. Is it truly necessary to add my face to that equation?

So, as this piece now mercifully meanders to its conclusion, I will take my face into the bathroom and deposit my new growth into the sink (taking necessary precaution to prevent clogging the drain). In that manner, I will give Covid 19 one less chance to have its way with me.

And, as further benefit, I will make my sister and my mother very happy.

Do We Even Remember Robert Mueller, Kids in Cages, the Impreachment Hearings?

Robert Mueller. Anyone remember that quaint little episode? The North Korean verbal war to see which leader had the bigger weapon? The children locked in cages?The withdrawal from the nuclear agreement with Iran? And what about that perfect phone call and the President's resulting impeachment? Do we even mention his blatant disregard of the Constitution with his executive orders and his tweeting mandates, no more stark than his declaration that none of his underlings produce a single piece of paper or utter one syllable in response to demands of the impeachment investigations?  Each repulsive action certain to be a defining moment for the November 2020 election. Now they are all almost forgotten, mere footnotes or asterisks in the bizarre alternate universe in which we find ourselves

And so where will the President's current lies, his missteps, his adamant refusal to take responsibility for lives forever altered, for deaths piling up across this nation, where will his preening and blundering on Covid 19 rank on the Richter scale this November?

We are all so certain that THIS ONE will be the bellwether when we vote, IF WE VOTE this year (who could possibly say with certainty that Mr. Trump will not declare a national emergency such that a changing of the guard is not something we can sanction at this critical time). 

Yet if there is one absolute certainty in this three ring circus of a presidency it is that nothing is certain. One could never imagine the succession of calamities and near calamities caused by the incompetence, the arrogance, the bending of truth and logic, by this President. And thus, as with all other disasters or near disasters over the past three plus years, the straight line we think we see between some horror, even this latest one, and the fall of Donald J. Trump may not be that at all.

For in this world nothing is certain except death,(which we are now desperately trying to ward off with every collective breath), taxes (which for the time being are on hiatus) and the next all consuming distraction just around the corner, compliments of the charlatan who would be king if only he could figure out how to turn a democracy into a monarchy.

November is a lifetime of the unfathomable  away.

Collateral Damage

("Trump Is Asking Us to Play Russian Roulette With Our Lives")

Donald Trump is an inveterate gambler. Six times he has had hotel or casino businesses owned by him declare bankruptcy. He has shown a propensity to bet the house, taking chances on matters where logic and sound judgment would inform that the odds are long and the likely results disastrous.. 

Yet, in the end, he has outrun his bad decisions. He has continued on, for the most part unscathed. The same cannot be said for those who invested their monies with him, for those employees who found themselves on the wrong end of Mr. Trump's quixotic decisions. But Donald Trump never cared about those harmed or destroyed by his errors. HIs focus only on his own survival.

So why would we possibly be surprised by his cries to LIBERATE? Donald Trump is once again putting all the chips in the middle of the table. It just so happens that this time you and I are those chips. If he wins, and if only a few thousand more of us cease to exist because the President wants to shore up a leaking ship and increase his chances of victory in November, that would be perfect in his eyes. And if not, well...

This latest potential loss would be counted in the currency of a wholly morally bankrupt person. Our deaths but acceptable collateral damage.

When Will It Be Alright?

When will it be alright?
How will I know?

Will you tell me?

Or will the sun?

Or maybe the night sky?

When will it be alright?

Will I learn it in a dream?

Will I hear it in the wind?

Or in a neighbor's laugh?

Or from the scent of a flower?

When will it be alright?

Will I find it in a smile?

Will it be splashing in a waterfall?

Or maybe sung as a lullaby?

When will it be alright?

Is it just around the corner?

Is it in front of me now?

Will I know it when I see it?

When will it be alright?

Will it be wrapped in a package?

Will it come in a letter?

Will it be addressed to whom it may concern?

When will it be alright?

Will it arrive with a knock on the door?

Will it climb in through a window?

Will it be seated at the table?

When will it be alright?

I believe I already have the answer

It has been residing inside me all along.
I just have to discover its hiding place.

Neither rain, sleet, nor snow. But they forgot to mention Covid 19

Is it just me or is it time to bring back the carrier pigeon?

Approximately one month ago I put in my request to the post office to forward both my business and personal mail to the location where I would be housed until the all clear siren sounded. I was certain that within but a few days my mail would catch up to me. In the interim, I would just be patient.

Now, I sit daily at the window waiting silently for that little truck to appear. And when it does, my tail wags wildly in anticipation. I rush outside and open up another dose of disappointment.  I can count on my hands, with a few digits unused, the accumulated number of items that have taken the journey to their ultimate destination. And who was really longing to read the Jewish Standard anyway? Or get another notice from the Census bureau?

Almost two weeks ago I began advising those with whom I do business to send mailings directly to where I now sit writing this piece. If you have received anything from any of them please let me know, because the next item I receive will be the first.

In this the moment of our greatest crisis, this issue ranks somewhere just below lint in one's navel. I dare not hint of complaining, for inconvenience is a word that should not even be permitted in one's lexicon now. 

And I well understand that the post office is near bankrupt, having been starved by a Federal government more than eager to cast it asunder so that private enterprise can pillage and plunder the public. The volume of its workload ever dissipating in the face of megacorporations.

But it surely would be nice to have something I have taken for granted the entire time I have resided on this planet be something I could take for granted now. 

Neither rain, sleet nor snow. But they forgot to mention Covid 19.

Radiohead To Head - Trump v Limbaugh - The Battle That Never Was

("Trump Wanted A Radio Show, But He Didn't Want to Compete With Limbaugh")

Rush Limbaugh was recently awarded the Medal of Freedom. From competition by the President for radio listeners.

It would seem bad fiction, but Mr. Trump turns fiction into reality every day. As a pandemic was closing in and Mr. Trump, attempting to both assuage a fearful nation and feed his massive ego, contemplated a daily FDR fireside chat, he retreated because, what, he didn't want to go head to conservative head with his comrade in lies? And run the risk of losing a ratings battle?

We are now daily assaulted with the image of a trumpeting President. Could it have been any worse if he had instead done two hours "off the cuff" and out of sight?  At least he would not have subjected us to strutting his hour upon the stage in full view, his postulations, pronouncements and prevarications  broadcast directly in our collective, distressed faces.

There are no good tales involving Donald Trump but some, like this one, seem particularly, obscenely, headshaking. It feels like there is a punch line waiting to happen here. But really, this presidency is but one continuing punch line to a very, very long and disturbing joke.

Open Up - Shut It Down (to the tune of "You'll Be Back" from Hamilton

("As States Make Plans, Trump Says His 'Authority' Is Total")

You say, the cost of my grace's not a cost you can ever afford

You state, the state is the only one who can be overlord

Don't you try

Remember that I'm the ruler with ultimate say

That's no lie

Remember it's my game and I will decide who can play

Open up

Shut it down

Just acknowledge that its up to me

Open up

Maybe now

Just remember only I know how

Death tolls rise, death tolls fall

But I'm the only one to make the call

And when I say it's right

I will hold a full press conference to remind you of my might

Da dada da da

Da dadada dayada

Dada da da dayada

You think that I am just riffing without underlying power

You say I reign like a king, but the White House is no ivory tower

Open up

If I choose

I don't care how many more we lose

Open up

When it's right

Or it's wrong, for I've got the might

A few more gone, why so sad

Don't huff and puff, don't be mad

And when I make the call

I may kill your friends and family but I won't take the fall

Smile

She chases after the neighbor's dog, who has decided, in his tail wagging ways, to spend  part of the afternoon with her. It makes me smile.

She holds a basketball,almost as big as she is, in her arms and rolls it a few inches away. It makes me smile.

She runs down the driveway, tilted towards the ground, her fall and tears inevitable. But soon it is a forgotten moment of unhappiness. It makes me smile.

She climbs up the rocky cliff in the backyard, really just a five foot  hill. And when she finishes, she does it again. She beams with pride. It makes me smile.

She eats as I do, two fisted and in a great hurry. It makes me smile.

She picks up a wrench, then sits in her daddy's lap as he tries to assemble something that momentarily defies completion. She says one word to him, "help". It makes me smile.

She calls my name. It makes me smile.

She picks up a pebble and throws it into a puddle. It makes me smile.

Her day is a thousand moments each one typical, every one spectacular. And whatever she does makes me smile.

She is my oasis.. This little girl who makes me smile.

And she is wholly unaware of the mad swirling universe just beyond her gaze. It makes me smile.

Missing

Someone is missing:

Age - The same as mine

Height - Varies

Sex- None

Weight- None 

Distinguishing features - Changes shape and size

Last Seen - A long time ago

He (for lack of a better term) has been my
companion throughout my life. In good times
and bad, he has been by my side. I know he is
very afraid of the dark. And overcast days.
And being inside.

At the moment, I stay mostly in my apartment.

And when I do venture out, well I can't remember
the last time I saw blue sky when I cast
 my gaze upward. And never a sign of him.

My friend has disappeared. Maybe he has forgotten
who I am. Maybe he is wandering the streets
right now trying to find me. Maybe scared
and alone. I am very worried. I miss him terribly.

His name -  Oh, I am so sorry, that should have
been the first thing I told you.

He is known as "My shadow."

PS - Look who I found today!!

Losing the Food Lottery

It is basically a food lottery here these days.

At one local market, orders must be placed no earlier than 7 AM, no more than 20 items in total. And I think no products starting with the letters C, G or P on Mondays and no item greater than five letters on Tuesday or Thursday. And if you are not sitting at your computer at 7:01, fuggetaboutit.

In another location, orders are taken one week in advance. When did you ever know what you were missing, or what you were craving more than fourteen minutes ahead?

Then, there is news of secret locales, the ones no one else knows about. They are somewhere in the midwest and have mostly stuff you have never eaten, never even considered eating. But now they must be thought of as delicacies.

So, it was basically Christmas (or Chanukah) early yesterday afternoon when we got the call that our order was ready for pickup, the yogurts, juices, greens and other black market goodies (just think of toilet paper that you can eat) there for the taking. We rushed out of the house, called when we arrived at our destination and within a few minutes we were heading home with thoughts of gastronomic glory overwhelming our senses.

The now usual dance routine was performed with unbagging, washing (both our hands and every item that had touched the air within the past three months) and  placing our bounty, like gold, gently into assigned slots. We looked at our good fortune as one would stare at a diamond of unrivalled beauty..

 I counted the minutes until our repast.. But God had other ideas.

At about 4 PM on the first full day of Passover, one of the ten plagues struck this little community, as golf ball sized hail reigned down upon us with the intensity of a Trump rally in Mississippi. The minutes passed and what appeared to be snow accumulated on our back deck. Soon, as it had arrived, so it left and we imagined the worst was in the rear view mirror.

Then we heard the crack. Initially it sounded much like approaching thunder. Almost at once we realized it was something else, something far more sinister.. A huge tree had snapped, not from the branches, but in the middle of what must have been its 50 foot trunk. And landed directly on the overhanging wires, cracking several poles as everything sagged under the weight of an unwelcome guest.

The lights and computers shuttered in response and then gave up the fight. It would be more than 12 hours before power was restored. And, after the initial shock had dissipated, our thought turned to our new prized possessions. Certain meats were saved by quick thinking transfer from refrigerator to freezer. But we were not so lucky with much of  the rest of our treasure.

In the morning, as my wife and son read through the guidelines of what temperature certain items could survive and for what period, the stark realization came of what had to be done. So, one by one, greens were discarded, yogurts were emptied and our collective hearts sank as we stared at what was once more mostly empty space.

I well recognize that in this time of terrible turmoil, of lives upended, of lives ended, sadness over the loss of a morsel of food is beyond ludicrous. But the mind has a mind of its own. For all of you who are similarly situated, where travel into a grocery store or supermarket seems an invitation to disaster, you understand what it is to wait day after day for the next arrival of those treats you have taken for granted your entire lives. No longer at your beck and call. And now, at least for us on this day, nothing but a mirage.

I thought, for a brief moment, I had won the lottery. But it turns out I merely had the right numbers on the wrong day.

My Surprise Party

Eight years ago, I threw a surprise party for myself. I was more than a little concerned that my family, not inclined to make a fuss about days of note (holidays, anniversaries and other times most commemorate) might allow my 60th birthday to slip by without appropriate celebration of everything me.

As I am one who requires accolades (much like an unnamed person residing in Washington) as others need air to breathe, I dropped hints from dawn to dusk. And to my great non-surprise, as a result of my ceaseless annoying behavior, a party was had. Friends who didn't even fully realize they were so designated, came to fete my semi-accomplishments. It was exactly what was needed to satiate my ego.

But that evening now resides in the deep recesses of my mind and its warm glow has long since dissipated. And my birthday once again looms on the horizon. In these days of isolation, emotional as well as physical, there is nothing I would relish more than another surprise party. I know we all use the Internet as the great substitute, and in many ways it is soothing for our collective soul. In fact, we are likely now in more constant contact than ever with others, some relationships that have grown distant over the course of years, suddenly rekindled. Thus, in a strange way, we may be closer to friends and family since we were compelled to go to our separate corners.

I get all that. But what I wouldn't give to be in a room full of people there for the sole purpose of pretending to focus on the level of my importance. And so I think I will now create an actual, virtual surprise party for myself.

Place cards are set around the dining room table. The guests arrive and congregate to chat. Certain groundrules are set. No politics, no discussion about the virus or any negative topics. As long as I am making all of this up, I am acting as director of every aspect of this production. There is more than enough food for everyone (even as the world believes our family does not actually eat) but, as I am in charge of handing out the drinks, most of the guests seem strangely parched. 

One of those invited is now telling a story that might have been better left an orphan, but I guess that is just who he is.  I am regretting not extending invitations to several who fell just on the wrong side of the line. I wish there was a little more space here. But it is so nice to listen to the sound of laughter fill every chamber of this apartment. If only I could hold onto it forever.

After two hours of frivilous conversation, the important portion of the evening commences. I take my seat at the head of the table, smiling and seeming slightly embarassed by all the attention. And when the first of the many speakers finishes a hilarious recitation about the state of my feet and my absence of any discernible upper lip or eyebrows, I seem aggravated for an instant but then arise and give a big hug to my faux tormentor.

And I can almost feel that hug now. It is basically coursing through me and the image alone has a visceral effect. Oh how we miss all those hugs!! And when the time comes when we are no longer restrained, when we are truly around all those who are not with us today and for the forseeable future, oh how incredible will that seem!!!

Anyway, back to the party. After all the fuss about me has quieted down and the evening has meandered to its inevitable conclusion, I am happier then at any other birthday celebration in my life. Sure it is great to be appreciated, even if it is a sentiment mandated by me, and yes all those presents (I told my wife to tell everyone, wink, wink, that I did not want any) are excellent, but the very best part of it all was to have so many so near.

Thanks to everyone who attended my great surprise. You made it one I will never forget.

PS- for anyone now wondering, you were definitely there. And you were my favorite guest.

Exercising the Fundamental Right to Sign One's Own Death Warrant

("At the Polls in Wisconsin: Lines, Masks and Plenty of Fear")

They stood in line waiting for the opportunity to do what, exercise a fundamental right while simultaneously signing their own death warrant?

As we warn of a nation, of a world, under siege and send screaming reminders each day about the certainty of spreading disease through contact with others, could there have been a more profane image than that of people snaking blocks as Wisconsin decided to close its eyes to reality?

It was a bizarre scene, stay at home and social distancing dictates disappearing like a magician's sleight of hand. 

And we wonder why this most virulent foe is still coursing through our veins with unrelenting frequency?

When we look back on the history of this plague, the pictures from today in places like Milwaukee will not mark our finest hour. 

There HAD TO be a better way.

TWO THUMBS UP - SCHITT'S CREEK (DEFINITELY NOT BOTTOM FEEDING)

 I am lately up to my eyeballs in episodes of Schitt's Creek. I feel deep down it is my duty to inform you that while you might imagine this show filled with verbal diarrhea from a few big turds that is far from the truth. There is no scatological humor here, and the central characters do give more than a crap about each other and the town in which they reside. While our President might call this place a shithole I would suggest he would be the one full of it in such a description.

 I am nearing the back end of season three, not even half way finished and with so much more to go, I expect what remains may soon have me doubled over (in laughter, of course)

So for those of you wiping your hands clean of some other show that leaves you sick to your stomach, I say plant yourself firmly on your backside and get ready to take a marathon, satisfying Schitt's Creek run. I guarantee you when you finish it will seem as if a big weight has been removed from you.. Lighter in spirit so to speak.

Soul Searching

("Has Anyone Found Trump's Soul? Anyone?")

Searching for Mr. Trump's soul? Did we find it in the cages that housed the frightened young children separated from their parents? For those seeking shelter from a different storm, crossing the border brought only misery, terror and heartache. And a President who demonstrated not an ounce of compassion for their plight, not even a manufactured hint of discomfort for their suffering.

As he watched a "caravan" of desperate people try to escape from poverty, from pain, from the possibility of death, he treated them as terrorists and warned them not to enter his domain. Let them be damned, his unmistakable response to their entreaties.

And what about all those from Muslim nations, trying to leave behind the horrors of war, the devastation of living every day on the edge of the abyss? In the first week of this President's reign, he issued his executive order shutting his eyes and ears to their cries for help. The tragedies they endured less than meaningless.

So why would one think he located a heart now? Empathy is not a word in Donald Trump's vocabulary. And if he punishes those governors who cross him, even if the collateral damage to thousands of their constituents is staggering, so what? 

Mr. Bruni should not be disappointed in Mr. Trump's "performance". For that would suggest the belief that there was a possibility of something better. And Donald J. Trump is incapable of rising to the occasion. For he exists without a soul, without a heart, without a care for the welfare of anyone else.

His true motto not "America first" but Donald J. Trump, first, last and only.

The Whole Truth

The overwhelming problem with the President's response to this pandemic has been his unrelenting affliction for speaking in hyperbolic certainty.

He has created a campaign and then a presidency predicated on hyperventilated, manufactured truths that have provided pablum and sustenance for those who drink the Kool Aid, but have only led to escalated difficulties at each turn.

From the near collision course with North Korea, to his impenetrable Wall, to the tariff wars with China and others, from his intended withdrawal from the climate change accord, to the perfect conversation with the Ukrainian President and his dalliance with Russia, Mr.Trump's one constant is his complete assurance of his superior knowledge of the situation and the supposed ease with which whatever dilemma posed will be resolved.

It is the essence of his DNA and his presidency. And when now his bluff has been called by a virus that knows no way but forward, when the emperor stands before this nation clothed in nothing but his lack of comprehension, when this illness is not distracted or deterred by grotesque mischaracterizations then we as a nation are left with everything to fear and no one in charge.

So today we can only hope that Mr. Trump and Mr. Kushner fully cede the spotlight and the response to those who come armed with actual knowledge and understanding. For the President's misstatements, misunderstandings and miscalculations have left us in a state of triage. 

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. That is all we ever wanted, and nothing this President has even remotely provided. And the result is racing through every town, every hospital and every heart in this nation.

We acknowledge receipt of your order

We acknowledge receipt of your order. Thank you for shopping online with us. You should receive the requested items within:

a) one day

b) four days

c) two weeks

d) are you kidding

We acknowledge receipt of your order. Your request cannot be filled at this time because:

a) toilet paper now costs $300 a roll, you are unemployed and your bank account has $298

b) toilet paper with the picture of the face of President Trump is out of stock and by his executive order all production has stopped

c) toilet paper has been declared non-essential 

d) you should just eat less because you're looking a little chubby

We acknowledge receipt of your order. However we refuse to fill it because:

a) you live in New York City

b) you know someone who lives in New York City

c) you once wasted money on seeing "Cats"

d) your SAT score in English was under 650.

We acknowledge receipt of your order. But we have a few questions before we decide if we will fill it:
a) have you ever complained, even to yourself, about our service
b) do you believe in love at first sight
c) have you ever been accused of jaywalking
d) can you name the Presidents in height order

We acknowledge receipt of your order. We are out of stock of 19 of the 20 requested items. However the good news is:
a) we can ship you 12 Halloween masks of Vice President Pence
b) we will be getting in some out of date organic turkey any day
c) we found a box of 80% dark chocolate in the corner of the warehouse
d) we recently changed the striping in the parking lot and got three more spaces

We acknowledge receipt of your order. We think you must have confused us with your mother because:

a) we don't come to your house to make chocolate chip pancakes

b) we don't have time to play Scrabble with you

c) we can't read you a bedtime story

d) we can't figure out where that smell is coming from

We acknowledge receipt of your order. Please stop annoying us because:

a) we went out of business two weeks ago

b) we don't deliver to any zip code starting with a number

c) you voted Republican in the mid-terms

d) your eyes are not deep blue

Thanks again for thinking of us.

Donald Trump Sings the Beatles

The President has now appeared on You Tube singing a series of Beatles songs in response to the current pandemic. The cost to view is your sanity:

1. Helter - Skelter - his handling of the crisis

2. In the End - his message to Governors who challenge him

3. Yesterday - his understanding of how quickly Melania will be gone if he ever tests positive for the virus

4. Yellow Submarine - his new residence until this plague disappears

5. The Long and Winding Road - his retort to those who say he has been slow to deliver desperately needed supplies

6. A Hard Day's Night - his lament when he can't escape to Mar-a-Lago to play golf

7. Carry That Weight- his direction to Dr. Fauci

8. Cry Baby Cry- his conversation with Governor Cuomo

9. Do You Want to Know a Secret - his decision not to inform us of the extent of the problem we face

10. Everybody's Got Something to Hide Cept for Me and My Monkey- his suggestion that we pay attention to his monkey

11. Because - his response to every question "Why"

12. Getting Better (All the Time) - his answer when the numbers keep getting worse

13. Hello, Goodbye - his discussions with the press when they question his actions

14. I Just Don't Understand - his anthem

15. I Want to Hold Your Hand - his belief that this is all a hoax manufactured by China 

16. I'm Looking Through You - his rebuke of  Nancy Pelosi

17. It Won't Be Long - his instruction to those who are told not to leave NYC

18. Let It Be - his true feeling on how best to handle this situation

19. Magical Mystery Tour-  his tutorial on governing

20. Nowhere Man - his leadership crystallized

21. Oh-bla-di, Oh-bla-da - his suggestion that this is all overblown 

22. Run For Your Life- his thoughts on your chance of survival

23. She's Leaving Home - his revelation about Melania after she got a hold of the latest report on the outbreak

24. Ticket to Ride - his reporting of Ivanka's plans to get out of town

25. We Can Work It Out - his stock position when everything goes wrong

Message to Mr. Trump: stop fiddling around while Our Guitar Gently Weeps. It is far past time to just Let It Be. We are all in desperate need of more than A Little Help from Our Friends. Please, please us, oh yeah and  don't be APRIL'S FOOL on the Hill.