A Tale of Three Presidents


Monday, 23rd March 2020
It’s late and I’m tired but the temptation is to run up and down the street screaming goodbye to everyone. And then to run past the barber’s and the café in town and B&Q and the tennis courts and the hot yoga studio screaming goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
This afternoon, as we walked the dog back from the beach at the end of the road, we bump into Sol who has spent the afternoon with his girlfriend in the park, sitting in the sunshine in anticipation of this: the lockdown. They said their goodbyes and now they, and we, wait. As of midnight, there will be no sitting in parks with anyone who you do not live with. As of midnight, there will be no sitting in cafes or buying some compost or going outside for something frivolous like an unsanctioned walk to get an ice cream. Effectively, we have, as a nation, been put on the naughty step. Bozza told us to stay apart; we didn’t listen. And now here we are.
We’ll come back to Bozza but first let’s start with Jair Bolsonaro, Brazil’s president, who can be guaranteed to see this pandemic for what it is: a highly infectious, deadly pandemic sweeping the world. He has the benefit of seeing how it has affected other countries and the effectiveness of the measures they have taken. So, care-bear-Jair, what say you?
“The people will soon see they have been tricked…by a large part of the media about the coronavirus.”
Oh, okay. So, how would you describe the illness, Senhor Bolsonaro?
“A little flu…”
Downplaying bad news, accusing the media of fabricating stories to make him look bad, deflecting blame – where did you learn the art of governance? Oh yes, of course, El Jefe Naranja: Donald Trump. Let’s see how he’s handling the crisis.
Three Steps to Covid-Success - The DJ Trump Way
First, get out a big black marker and in your press notes, cross out ‘corona’ and overwrite ‘Chinese.’ That way, people will know this is not Anglo-Saxon flu for white people and which is nothing worse than a sniffle. No, this is what happens when the Chinese lose the trade and tariff tit-for-tat war, get all sneaky and slitty-eyed and send over their flu, which they can make cheaper than us because of their unfair economic advantages and patent stealing.
Second, deny saying the ‘Chinese virus’ is racist. Even if, in the days after you use it several times, the American Asian community are racially abused and attacked. These two things are NOT linked and to say so is unhelpful in our hour of need and unpatriotic. So don’t do it, people.
Third, frame this as a war. People understand wars. God knows, America has started enough of them. So, we are going to win because a) this virus is Chinese and they don’t make stuff like we do, and b) because I just said so, and anyone who disagrees is a NASTY NASTY person who should be ashamed of themselves.
And thank goodness it’s Trump up there, winning this war for us, using all his military service from his time as a… Oh, hold on.
Donald Trump got a draft deferment how many times?
Five?
Are you sure? You are? What for?
Well, four times for being in college.
Fair enough.
Then the six foot two college athlete who had passed the physical exam two years earlier got another deferment for having ‘bad feet.’
Ah yes, bad feet. That’s why he now uses a wheelchair.
No, listen, I hadn’t finished explaining. As the president explained in an interview: ‘Over time, it healed up.’
I’m guessing that healing period might just have coincided with the length of the Vietnam War?
Let me look: ah, yes. You were right. Good guess.
If you think that’s bad, take a look at snake-oil salesman Dick Cheney’s deferment record. He also got a deferment five times: three for college but then college finished and he was deemed ‘fit for service.’ What does Dick do? He gets married, giving himself another exemption. But, oh no, Dick, they’ve changed the law because suddenly everyone’s getting married. Now you have to have a kid. What’s that? Your wife’s pregnant. Guess you’re going to have to sit this one out, tough guy.
War leaders, eh? Harder to come by than you think. Still, we’ve got the Bozzatron: our own little ersatz Churchill. In tonight’s address to the nation, the flanking experts were gone. Now, it was a big wooden desk and Union Jack and two big doughy fists mildly thumping the table to let you know that now he means business. If your mates ask you to meet up, you say ‘no.’ If they offer you a joint, you say ‘no.’ If they want a game of tennis and then a cup of coffee, you say ‘no.’
Shit got real, real sudden. Everybody on the naughty step, right now.
Latest data for the UK (as of 11:42pm):
Infected: 6,650
Deaths: 335
Celebrity Deaths: None
People I know who are infected: 0
People I know who have died: 0
Song for the day: ‘Isolation’ – Joy Division

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