On the Golden-Crowned Lurgy

      Hi guys.

      Well, it’s 29th March, a quarter of the year gone already, and boy, yeah, it’s a big’n. The plan was to celebrate my biggest posts of the quarter – but I want to have a look at the Golden-Crowned Lurgy that’s floating around the world, and got us out of toilet paper, pasta, gloves, and masks.

      So, where do I sit on the COVID19 reality? Apart from the social distancing, wearing gloves at work, lamenting I got ripped off buying masks on Amazon (no more clicking on Free Shipping for me). Not that I really need the masks. Getting back to things, it’s taken a bit for this bipolar guy in recovery to sense the mess the world is now in, so, here goes.

      “It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing.”

      One does not simply walk a Boromir line into Blogdor. And no, it’s not exactly Mordor. Sure, there was a bit of Mad Max over toilet paper at the shops, thankfully no Lord Humungous or Thunderdome came of it, but those bog roll shelves are still empty, whether you’re in Texas or Toorak. (That’s in the state of Victoria btw, nowhere near the bridge and fancy sail-shaped building. Ooh, free geography lesson! Oh, and bonus Google search, see for yourself what a Toorak Tractor is…)

      You’ve heard the word lockdown shouted about. I’ve heard plenty of tell of this word, being in stage two of a lockdown. Yeah, it’s meant a lot of people on the dole queue at Centrelink. But it still means me working at the shopping centre, even as shops have their doors closed. The most frightful refrain? Lock the whole country down.

      I’m not stressed. After all, supermarkets will stay open in any stage of a lockdown. We have two at work. Plus, chemists – a good thing, I do need my meds. I might need the doctor’s, not just for the Golden-Crowned Lurgy. Also, banks, the post office (where people bank and pay a variety of bills). But the closed stores, our equivalent of the Russian bread lines… Yeah, it’s sad to see.

      “Today’s Sesame Street is brought to you by the letter R, and the number 2020.”

      Yeah, I had my doubts earlier about that Recession word nobody really wants to say. The Fast-Moving Consumer Goods market might have taken off, but I accept my doubts were wrong. Not that I’ll say there’s a crash – well, the GFC is a Sunday picnic now. But in light of that call, I’m already wondering what the hell the world is going to look like after the dust clears.

      Thankfully, though it won’t be a flying purple unicorn that wees rainbows and poops blueberry muffins, I’m seeing from a conservative government that would have pushed austerity in the face of the GFC doing some very lefty things. The dole has gone up, though disability pensions haven’t (oops). There’s talk now of a UK-style wage guarantee, that was hosed down by one government MP a day ago (oops). And the economy getting put on ice.

      (Update 31/3/20 - we're now doing the UK-style wage guarantee. 🤦)

      Evidently, we can put the economy on hold. We apparently have the technology. I’m not sure we can bring it back faster, stronger, better, but there’s one glimmer of hope. It’s going to be painful from what I’ve read, but this has to be a time of working together, sharing the pain, not, as some have, capitalising on hand sanitiser, or worse, a supposed “cure,” and some outright quackery from a known conman involving silver.

      But this is probably what we’ll have to endure until that vaccine is finally ready. Another glimmer of hope… but 12-18 months away. Even then, there’s the possibility of the Golden-Crowned Lurgy evolving in that time, that could render the vaccine obsolete. Will there be enough money in coronaviruses for pharma to research and develop? Again, we’ll have to wait and see.

       “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

      And no, the Lollypop Guild does not want to welcome us to Munchkin Land, while there is a big bad witch going around that many of us up to technological date might not expect.

      The world has truly moved into the online age. Telecommuting en-masse, online primary/elementary school, the sometimes-bane of our existence our outlet in a world where going and congregating outside could mean GCL. And it’s not an outlet that everyone can access, and even for those with access, it can further the sense of isolation.

      I did my first online recovery meeting on Thursday. At the beginning, I was hopeful for the connection. Afterwards, I felt disconnected. I thought of connecting to Friday’s meeting, and in probably an addiction call, I had to do more than just turn up. I don’t know how I feel about tonight’s opportunity, again needing to grab the background reading to take part and share.

      And I… I know it’s not going to work if I don’t work it. But I don’t know if its going to make me more a part of it all, or drive that isolation stake deeper…

      I’m going to leave it at that. I wanted to go back to my best posts with this one. I’m glad this is the way I’ve gone. But at the same time, it’s sad to me, especially that I can’t wish the “good one” I normally do. These are interesting times, the greatest curse to befall anybody.

      Take care, all, and stay safe.

      T. M.