“Their most faithful disciples were the two cart-horses, Boxer and Clover. These two had great difficulty in thinking anything out for themselves, but having once accepted the pigs as their teachers, they absorbed everything that they were told, and passed it on to the other animals by simple arguments.”
– George Orwell, Animal Farm
Today Governor Inslee extended the stay-at-home order, without giving a new end date. There’s another presser on Friday, I hear, and I really hope he says something to regain some of the faith that I’m starting to lose in him. What used to look like steadiness is starting to look like indecision. This next part is good, though – remember that alliance between Washington, Oregon, and California that had me worried? Worry no more!The West Seattle Blog reports:
3:38 PM: He’s asked about the value of the Western States Pact if other states in it are making different decisions. He says the pact is more for “communication.”
I guess you need a “pact” in order to communicate these days. But anything that keeps us untethered from the only two states in the union that are battier than we are is good news to me. The key, though, is the part about other states making different decisions. Every governor is going to try to be the one with the cleverest solution, and none of them will put this debacle behind them, none will let it go, until they’ve done something to distinguish themselves as the one who got it the most right. But as is usually the case when refusing to acknowledge success and competing for the crown of legacy, you sail right past your last chance to get it right and relegate yourself to the regressive consolation of, in the end, admitting your mistakes. Not that they ever will.
THE CART HORSES:
There’s a quarantine site in nearby White Center which is not going to open, and may never do so, because there hasn’t been a need for it. From White Center Now:
3:11 PM: Angie Malpass from King County verifies that the Top Hat facility “is on hold”:
There continues to be plenty of capacity at King County’s COVID-19 isolation, quarantine and recovery centers that are currently open today in Kent, Issaquah, North Seattle/Aurora, Harborview Hall and Shoreline.
We saw peak demand about one and a half weeks ago at 74 guests and have seen a plateau now at 61 guests today.
But of course:
Public Health is anticipating an inevitable second wave of COVID-19 and we will continue to keep White Center ready to open for when than second surge happens, should the current 5 facilities that are operational reach capacity.
It’s just impossible for these people to look at success without seeing it as a cause for alarm:
“You’ve just won the Super Bowl, but the champagne is likely poisoned, your plane is expected to crash, your wives are all projected to divorce you, and our experts are predicting that if you don’t spend all of your bonus money right now you risk not having it to spend irresponsibly later.
But good job, everyone.”
I’m just looking for a politician to commit a little political suicide, because at this point a bad move, politically, is pretty much guaranteed to be a good move, intellectually and morally. And vice the hell versa.
THE SIMPLE ARGUMENTS:
We got a freezer. When I called the local company a couple of weeks ago to ask about one, they first told me not to get my hopes up. Not only were they in high demand, but pretty much every compressor on Earth comes out of China, and nothing was coming out of China (except, well…). She predicted zero availability until late Summer. “But do call around.” I had asked for a chest freezer because, being a noob in the supplemental frozen storage category, I assumed that when you put a cooler in the garage, it was one of those big boxes with the lid on top that was good for burying things so deep that you were guaranteed to never see them again. She said to get an upright. They’re much better.
So I took her advice, called the big boys down by the mall, and asked for an upright freezer. I hit the sweet spot. The salesman said they had a shipment coming in, and there were several available. “Be here in about a week,” he said. Had I called a day later I might not have had another chance for months. It’s a 14 cu. ft. beauty that fits nicely in its place in the garage, and will be an excellent extension of the (always) too small freezer on our fancy fridge. We’re gonna stuff that thing with as many Pelosis of Ice cream as we can.
My daughter’s friend turned 12 yesterday. As an alternative to a party, her parents organized a parade. We got in line with about 10 other cars, two blocks South of her house, and drove in a slow, honking procession down her street. Most of the kids in the cars stood up through sunroofs and held signs/posters – it’s interesting to note how ubiquitous those are now (sunroofs, not posters). I’ve had one in each of my last two cars, and almost never used them. Like, at all. In fact, the way the searing heat of the sun comes through them when they’re open makes them rather unpleasant to use. In the sun. They can be mighty nice on a summer night, though.
Anyway. Signs were waved, horns were honked, hoots were hollered. It was 7:00 PM. Some of the neighbors probably thought it was obnoxious, and others no doubt took some joy in it. Whenever, in my life, I’ve seen someone enjoying or appreciating something that’s simultaneously bothering me, I’ve felt so low. Their joy always put my droll resistance in high relief. My younger life had me on a greased trajectory towards curmudgeonliness. I was always so sarcastic, and like so, so many people do, I believed that finding fault with something was a sign of intelligence (kind of like, I don’t know, seeing success as a cause for alarm), while accepting and enjoying things was most often the blind submission of the cart-horse. Many years ago I consciously took a few steps to correct that particular course of mine, nudged the tiller with some careful reading, and arrived in a better place. I screw it all up aplenty, to be sure, and there’s no guarantee that if a birthday parade came honking down my street, I would smile and be generous about it, but there’s a better chance of it now. Perfection’s not very much closer, but I can just see its gritty peaks when I look up through the sunroof, because I’m finally choosing to open it.
Yes, as a matter of fact, the fried chicken did come out beautifully:
There’s even a few leftover for breakfast.
— Don’t be alarmed by the sun, Comrade Citizen! —