The PVP Diaries #27

It took me a bit to get going this morning – kids, pancakes, etc.

Update 4-21

At this point I’m just putting the numbers up for posterity.

I remember being very young and learning from my mom how to crack eggs into a pan without breaking the yolks. I slowed and focused, tapped the shell against the edge of the skillet, got my thumbs into just the right spots, and with all the precision I could muster, I tried very slowly to pull the two halves apart. The shell resisted, and I dug my thumbs in a little more and pulled with a little more insistence. Suddenly, the whole thing caved and the broken yolk pooled with bits of shell in the hot pan. My mom said, “sometimes, it’s possible to be too careful.”

I say that in case, you know, the governor is reading here.

I didn’t take any pictures of anything yesterday, except this:


I was driving along Alki beach after picking up the Boy’s homework kit for the week. It was another one of these droll, sunny, gorgeous mornings on the water, about 8:15 AM at this point. The sign was the government – an admonishment to “keep it moving,” and two other messages that I can’t remember. I believe two things right now that are working hard against each other:

  1. The pandemic is real and significant.
  2.  The more physical presence the government has in my life, the less I believe anything they’re saying.

Think about how hard a child digs in when his lie is about to be discovered. He’s laid back if nobody’s asking questions, but as his position slips he gets frantic and demonstrative. That’s my definition of government:

A child perpetually on the brink of having his lie exposed.

And, just like a child, the pantomime drags on indefinitely, even after the deception is well and truly in the open. We’re all soft parents to our bad government child, as well. We keep giving it ice cream after threatening to take it away, no matter what they do wrong.  Then we come on the internet and we’re all “That’s the last straw! I’m not gonna take it anymore. I’m keeping my freezer stocked and my guns loaded!”

In their macabre, joyful nihilism the left wants the glorious government to lead us towards a neatly regulated catastrophe, replete with civil institutions that tried hard but couldn’t handle the death toll. The right’s grandiloquent, showy independence itches for a chaotic decline to anarchy and mass graves where intelligent skeptics fight off hungry looters and impotent government agents, using an arsenal of legally permitted guns. Both sides are eager for an apocalypse in which they can claim a part for good social media posts and a red hot reddit thread; they just disagree on how to get there and what it should look like.

All I know is that every week here sees an increase in the signage and messaging from the state and city governments, not to mention new restrictions, and that really quivers the needle on my BS detector. My tendency is towards skepticism anyway, especially where the government or popular opinion are concerned. When those two align I just have to smile, shake my head a little, and get back to digging out the hill in the back yard.

Of course the thing I’m most skeptical of is my skepticism. It comes on reflexively and feels mighty comfortable, and that’s a dangerous combination.


Look the Coronavirus deeply, searchingly, lovingly in the eye and sing it this song:


I never thought the day would come when I
Would be the poison in the pen I use to write
You said you were alone in somewhat of a nervous tone
I guess it was the blank look on your face that was easy to replace

So then I went and drank myself into an idiot all through the night
Recounting all my paranoid and selfish thoughts but I was right

I made a space for you inside my soul
And let my feelings kill the part that I control
So part of you was me, neglectful maybe cold it seemed
Despite having the wounds we both imbibe, the scars are
Somewhere we can’t hide

I then stayed up for two more years just thinking of the sacrifice you made
Indifferent to the reason so apparent in the pain
I polished off another drink and taught myself to numb and drift away
For one more night so I could justify the day

So now I entertain the thought of going on all alone
But you are all the life I’ve ever known

I swear one day I’ll get it back something that is already dead and gone
Again i see the trumpet player looking for his song
Don’t worry I won’t follow you, that part of me is learning to let go
What was a space is like a cancer in my soul


I have no “Homeless in Coronafornia” update today. That’s more my fault than anything. It’s been a busy, exhausting few days, and I just didn’t reach out. These things happen.

Straight to bed with no dessert, Comrade Citizen!


3 thoughts on “The PVP Diaries #27”

  1. “My tendency is towards skepticism anyway, especially where the government or popular opinion are concerned” (Havens, 2020).

    “We will first argue that widespread acceptance of a kind of conspiratorial thinking develops a good trait in politically free citizens, namely a reflexive distrust of “official line” issuances from denizens of the State” (Bickle and Bernstein, forthcoming).

    Carry on!


      1. Good guess, but no. John Bickle (perfesser in the PD vids and guy who does the cooking here at the Farm) and his wife, Marica Bernstein (that would be me)!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s