I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any stocks to sell—maybe I can still get a few bucks for my guitar?
Even if I did have some stocks, there’s something particularly scummy about making a cool million or so off information that a world-ending pandemic is about to begin its destructive journey across America. Four senators are under fire for doing just that, including our own beloved octogenarian James Inhofe.
Normally, something like that would have been another goofy news-story to forgive and forget, like many Oklahomans are wont to do with him, but to sinfully profit as many of his constituents are more than likely going to be infected and, worse, die, while he lewdly rolls around (possibly) nude on a bed of crisp ones and fives, I hope that this is the time we finally hold him accountable.
While walking down around the old Rainbow Records on Friday, I noticed a wheat-pasted poster that read “Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness Inhofe.” I saw another one at the corner of N.W. 63rd and May later that weekend, the rain doing it’s damndest to tear it down. It gave me hope that it was still up. I hope they still are.
Meanwhile, a “shelter in place” order isn’t coming to Oklahoma City anytime soon. Kevin Stitt must need more cheeseburgers.
The jobless rate is projected to hit 30%. As a freelance writer with weak lungs and a weaker bank account, man alive, have I been worried about next month. The house I currently reside in is packed with twentysomethings that work in the food industry; they have been given their pink slips recently and are desperate to find work as soon as possible.
Thank the Lord that, last week, the Oklahoma Sherriff’s office announced they’re going to suspend evictions during the virus.
While it’s something of a sense of relief that our landlord can’t kick us out just yet, we can’t forget about the poorest among us at this time, like the undocumented, that are currently renting the houses in my neighborhood under backhanded deals and cash-only payments; who will protect them when the powers that shouldn’t be come to kick them and their children out in a few weeks?
Many people have been messaging me, texting me and so on, wondering how I’m doing in all this mess, health-wise; I am pretty susceptible to the virus, for various reasons, but I can promise you that as long as I’m writing, I’m still alive.
Like Mojo Nixon once said, “You can’t kill me, I will not die…”