Only in Dreams

If you need a break from the Coronavirus Diary for some comic absurdity, then you probably want to hear about this dream I had last night. It featured Irfan Khawaja.

In the dream, Irfan lived in a small but comfortable one bedroom apartment somewhere in urban New Jersey. I happened to be in the neighborhood, so I was headed to his place, but some kids stopped me on the way. They figured I looked like the sort of middle aged guy who wandered through their neighborhood looking to buy drugs, and they told me that this dude Irfan had good drugs to sell. Knowing Irfan, I had two thoughts: first, he is probably not selling drugs out of his apartment (but maybe he’s that desperate?); second, with his history of interaction with the police, the rumor that he’s selling drugs out of his apartment might get him into some serious trouble. So I thanked the boys and proceeded to Irfan’s apartment to ask him about this rumor. I figured that he’d want to know that his neighbor kids were telling random strangers that he sells drugs, whether it was true or not.

When I got there, Irfan wasn’t home. The situation seemed pretty urgent, though, so I thought I had to act fast. I knew that the lock on his door wasn’t particularly strong, and that if I just leaned into it pretty heavily at the right spot, it’d pop open without breaking anything. So I bumped into the door, and sure enough, it opened up. I found some paper and a pencil to write him a note, but I figured I shouldn’t leave any evidence that would incriminate him, whether the charges were true or not. So I wrote the note in Latin. That way only he’d know what I’d written.

Before I left, though, Irfan returned. He was furious to find me in his apartment and proceeded to lecture me on property rights and boundary transgressions. Soon enough, more serious matters arose. I didn’t even have time to tell him about the rumor that he was selling drugs, because he didn’t have time to listen to it. He was, he now revealed to me, leading a team that was fighting Michael Myers — yes, that Michael Myers:

In fact, he was surprised and a bit irritated that I hadn’t already figured out that he was part of the fight against Michael Myers. He had, after all, starred alongside Jamie Lee Curtis in the most recent installment of the Halloween franchise, so it wouldn’t have been hard for me to infer that he was in the process of a career shift. He gathered some weapons from his closet and told me to lock the door behind me and not to break into his place again.

I have vivid and strange dreams pretty regularly. Usually, though, they star people that I’ve interacted with personally in recent days. Maybe because school has moved entirely on-line with the Coronavirus lockdown, er, stay-at-home order, and I’m no longer interacting with the same few dozen teenagers for 40 hours a week, my mind has had to get more creative and work with more distant material. I haven’t even been keeping up with Policy of Truth, I’m sorry to say. So there’s really no apparent explanation for Irfan’s showing up in my dreams.

The rest of the elements in the dream make a great deal of sense to me, but explaining them all might get a bit too personal. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a bit sad that Irfan doesn’t actually have a side job hunting supernatural killers, though.

I hope this dream amuses you half as much as it’s amused me.

Coronavirus Diary (44): N95 Masks and Decontamination Revisited

I’m pleased to learn that Richard Saint Cyr’s proposal, mentioned here back in March, has now hit the big time. Here’s an article in The New York Times discussing it, as well as some related proposals for decontaminating used N95 masks. (No, amazingly enough, it doesn’t mention Richard, me, or Policy of Truth.)

I don’t have an N95 mask, but got an ultraviolet lamp about a week ago. Haven’t yet had the time to put it together, but will look into whether area hospitals need any. They run about $50-$150, in case you’re considering a donation.

Obviously, read the fine print so that you’re sure you’re buying a functioning germicidal lamp capable of killing the virus, as opposed to a lemon that ends up killing you.

Coronavirus Diary (43): Social Distancing and Self-Service Gas

Here is a sincerely modest proposal for promoting social distancing, at least in New Jersey: give us self-service gas. Please. New Jersey’s been debating this issue fruitlessly for years. Every other state has it. Even Jersey’s own gas stations want it at this point. And some towns are begging for it, as well. Now is the time, for God’s sake. Naturally, the state legislature and the station owners’ association want to relax the rules “for now,” so that they have the freedom to default back to business as usual when the pandemic passes. I guess we’ll have to fight that battle when we get to it. But let’s at least have self-serve now. Continue reading →

Coronavirus Diary (42): Should the Parks Be Closed in Jersey?

Feel free to believe this or not, but just about everyone who knows me well–friends, wives, ex’s–knows of my long history of altercations with the cops. Many of these altercations have taken place during my nocturnal rambles in local parks. Cops often claim that the parks “close,” and are willing to hassle anyone walking in the park “after hours.”* In doing so, they will often (falsely) insist that “there’s a curfew,” and ignore the blackletter of the laws they claim to be enforcing. Continue reading →

contagion requiem

wet market contagion

community spread

Li cries out

then silenced

dead

empty streets in Wuhan

people inside

doors welded shut

how many died?

Xi lies

dictatorship and national pride

crematorium ash flies

the Devil is unbound

the world oblivious

 

 

priests consecrate the wine and bread

body and blood of Christ

only to be struck down, dead

the Horsemen have arrived

the job of Christ is no earthly saving

dead in the wards

dead in the hallways

bodies fill the churches

shipped to more-spacious churchyards nearer the Vatican

the conflagration spreads

 

 

oh, American decadence!

the stupid vanity of the trumped-up man

stupidly vain righteousness

impeach the man

impeach democracy

‘I win! I shine!’ — ‘You swine!’

a glorious circus all dressed up in right and wrong

interrupted by sweeping death

Emerald City sorrow, Gotham apocalypse

the dying comes and comes

unprepared

machines breathing last breaths

saviors saving only to die

the big boss strips us naked

knocks us unconscious…

we awake in fits

to face reality and find solace as we can

but back to the circus we go

winning and losing, righting and wronging, shining and stinking up the joint 

what a show

death smiles

but the end is not yet written

Thoughts and Prayers for Donald Trump

It’s a federal offense to threaten or incite violence against the President of the United States. I would never do such a thing. Nor am I doing it now.

But one has a First Amendment right to pray to the deity of one’s choosing.

As it happens, there is a form of prayer in the Qur’an, used in daily (often public) prayer, which might be called the prayer of execration. In prayers of execration, one petitions God to smite or damn one’s own enemies, and/or His (it helps if they coincide). A famous example is Surah Lahab, aimed at one Abu Lahab, an enemy of the Prophet Muhammad. Continue reading →

Coronavirus Diary (41): “Worst Shift Yet”

Messages like this, delivered like this, are the only antidote to a society that prizes lies, valorizes liars, and denigrates the honest expression of raw emotion. If anything noble or redemptive is left in this country, it’s to be found in people like D’neil Schmall.

Coronavirus Diary (39): In the Trenches with Jeff Rhode

This is a wonderful photo essay, by photographer Jeff Rhode, of front-line health care workers at Holy Name Hospital in Teaneck, New Jersey, the epicenter of the COVID-19 pandemic here. As I understand it, Rhode has been “embedded” at Holy Name for the duration of the crisis there. Though the essay was published a few weeks ago, it helps put faces on the otherwise faceless “health care workers” currently working on the front lines, in hospitals and elsewhere. Thanks to my Felician colleague Julie O’Connell for mentioning it to me.

PS., Bigger, better photos at Rhode’s Instagram.