The Rant has emerged from our self-imposed exile inside a vat of Purell. We briefly considered checking in at the spa for the new tanning bed/Lysol cleanse (with a free coupon to the ICU of your choice!) but decided to remain hunkered down. The Rant remains virus-free as even before the pandemic people rarely wandered within six miles of us, let alone six feet. Being a curmudgeon has its advantages.
We have been permanently traumatized by Jared Kushner using the term “really rocking” during the Pandemic Paranoia Hootenanny Variety Hour with tonight’s special guest the Hudson Brothers.1 Dr. Fauci appears to be blinking the phrase “help me now” in Morse code with his eyes there in the background. Or perhaps that’s a new facial tic courtesy of the White House saying they have heard “really good things about this bleeding thing. We have the best, most special leeches here in America. Really beautiful leeches. I’ve signed an executive order banning all green cards for Chinese leeches.”2 He should really see a doctor about that, but none are available. The President suggested staring straight into the sun for a couple of hours, but the good doctor demurred.
But we digress. The zombie-in-law trotted out to proclaim the new message that despite all the death and sorrow and ruination of the economy, everything would be hunky-dory A-ok by summer with people chortling and declaring “what epidemic?” Because the crazier the words, the more magical they become. “Just like hitting the reset button when I play my Switch, right Daddy?” interjected Eric from the corner. Kayleigh McEnany tossed him a Werther’s.
Our far-flung correspondents inform us that men wandering around sans pants in quarantined houses has reached crisis proportions. This proves our long-held theory that American males have no real goals other than existing for long stretches in nothing but their boxers. The revolution will not have an inseam.
Did The Rant miss the memo that all Zoom calls and late-night talk shows must occur in front of a bookcase? Trevor Noah appears to have turned some Amazon boxes inside out to create his shelves. Most of the spines on these tomes appear to have never been cracked.
Some of the celebrities being interviewed look mighty desperate and mighty needy. Remember when they used to complain about having no privacy? Now they know that was a lie, too. What they wouldn’t give for a couple of stalkers outside the gates. Here’s a tip, kids: stop telling us how we’re all in this together from the jacuzzi in the middle of your 10,000 sq. ft. bedroom while your personal assistant goes grocery shopping and hoses down the artisan produce before you choose some slippers from the shoe vault and wander downstairs.
When The Rant looks into the eyes of those gathering at state capitals to demand the easing of restrictions, we do not see the usual anger like when they are yelling at muslims or claiming immigrants are stealing their jobs. What we see is fear. What we see is a dawning recognition that the systems they have been told to despise are the only ones capable of handling a crisis of this scale. What we see is an unease that perhaps the world delivers misery with a frightening randomness not based on their cherished notions of merit and worthiness. At least we hope so. That would be really rocking.
- If you have not enjoyed the wonder of the Hudson Brothers, yes, they were brothers, yes they had an actual show called Razzle Dazzle, yes both the producers and audience were on drugs, and yes, one of them was married to Goldie Hawn although The Rant isn’t sure which one and neither was Goldie, but that’s where Kate Hudson comes from
- Admit it. You briefly considered googling that to see if he said it. Do you understand the lengths The Rant has to stretch our absurdity to not sound like something from a press briefing?
