King Cucumber: The Bad Theatre of the Daily Briefing

Have you ever encountered a Sea Cucumber, friends?  They are largely crawling bottom feeders on the floor of the oceans, breaking down scraps and detritus.  To fit into small spaces, it can functionally liquefy its body, and then firm it back up. They have no brain, just a rudimentary nervous system attached to a mouth, and when they are threatened, they will literally eject their guts through their anus to defend themselves.  All very fascinating, for the Wonders of Nature know no bounds, and very useful to the marine ecosystem, but not the qualities one needs when it comes to the leader of the free world.

In the depths of the Great Depression and the Second World War, President Roosevelt took to the airwaves to discuss policy and procedure, helping to calm the worries of an anxious nation.  He calmed fears and dispelled rumours, and went down in history as one of the most effective communicators to ever occupy the White House.

But that isn't what we got, ladies and gentlemen.  Today, in the throes of pandemic, the venal gink occupying the White House gets up every day for the COVID-19 briefing.  And all I can think is, "ye gods... we have elected a sea cucumber." Listening to the chunks of phrases that come splattering from his puckered lips, even the least discerning listener cannot think that this mouth is hooked to a functioning brain.  Lies and misinformation, from the President in time of crisis.  No, no, the perception that he has a spine is just that.  He can't be from the same phylum.

And just press him on an issue, watch the tantrum as he ejects his gut to be devoured.  His own dysfunction provides plenty of food for the media, so there's no need to keep an eye on things.  But ho-ho, King Cucumber, we are watching.  Some of us are watching carefully.

It can be interesting to see such rare animals up close on occasion, but in terms of pathos and narrative, there's very little on offer. But King Cucumber is hungry for adulation.  Rallies used to scratch that itch, but that's now out of the question.  So he daily mounts the podium, spews without thinking, and effectively shits his guts out when pressed on something.  Ho-ho, it would be funny if there wasn't so much at stake.

But we're starting to catch on.  There are far more interesting animals to observe.  Is it any wonder that a number of NPR stations are now no longer airing his briefings in whole? 

Love and Prosperity in the Time of COVID 19

Weird times, dear reader.  Weird times.  A pandemic rages across the globe and we are called upon to rise to the occasion by doing as little as possible.  Sports is cancelled, and we are, for the most part, closed for business.  A good time to have invested in the streaming industry.  This is a war we're going to have to fight from our couches.

How long?  Oh lord, how long?  Who knows?  Maybe we'll be reopened by Easter.  Maybe this summer is already over.  Who knows?  Nobody.

For COVID 19 is a tricky bastard, with a long asymptomatic period.  Not to mention a varying list of symptoms that range from "almost nothing" to "iron lung."

So sit back, relax, and keep out of the line of fire.  You now have plenty of time on your hands!  You could catch up on projects, or learn a new language!

And right there it is, friends.  Capitalist Exploitation (nee Protestant Work Ethic) has managed to worm its way once again into the heart of public discourse.  The world is afire with disease, but what are you doing to improve and optimize yourself?  You have the time, after all.  Get off the couch!

The siren song of productivity rings in our ears.  To work!

If you're bored, why not make masks for your local hospital staff?  Put that time to good use and help us fight the pandemic.  Those on the front lines of this are most vulnerable.  What have you done?

Once again, the powers that be have offloaded their responsibilities on the backs of we, the people.  This is one of the great tests of the social safety net, and it shouldn't be necessary.  Those we elected to do the most basic job of governance, the protection of collective life and limb (IE, the Social Contract of John Locke), have failed to do this.


Shuttered factories could be tooling up to manufacture masks and ventilators.  Instead, local grannies sew masks and ventilators are improvised out of other pieces of equipment.  Stories of how we rise to meet the challenge make for a good pallet cleanser from the nightly spectacle of our half-bright gink of a president, bereft of rallies, posturing before the stage.

John Dickinson chided the Continental Congress for "braving the storm in a skiff made of paper."  Friends, we may very well be doing it again.