COVID-19: Challenges of the New Normal

Sports played in big stadiums without fans. For a lifelong fan of most everything sports related, this is like having sex in a wonderful bed by yourself.  It can be done, but it will lack passion.

Welcome to the “new normal,” a phrase I am sick of. I am also sick of the words “social distancing.”  Maybe it has to do with my having practiced this most of my life. Growing up in a crowded house with seven siblings has a way of making some of us long for privacy. As a kid, my best friend was Wilson, my football, decades before Tom Hanks filmed Castaway. You see, I suffered from what seems to be a now cured childhood illness called an imagination.

I used to save all my old 9-volt batteries from my transistor radio. Not even my brothers and sisters would dream of taking them like they did my favorite toys and hide them in the backyard or under the house. When left with nothing else to do, I could take them out and sit down on one of those coiled chorded rugs we all had and run my own version of the Indy 500. The rug’s oval shape made for a perfect track and the different battery brands were perfect cars. After a few minutes, I would start smashing a few batteries until I was satisfied I had replicated a horrific crash.

Today, I do not maintain a collection of 9-volt batteries and even if I did, it’s too far down to the floor and too damn uncomfortable to remain there. Worse, it’s more difficult getting back up.

Last night, my wife and I turned on the news and were blessed with something more important than all things COVID-19 related. A high speed chase between cops and a bad guy was unfolding before us, complete with play-by-play from a news chopper and instant analysis from the talking heads in the newsroom. A vehicle was weaving its way through city streets and accelerating to 90 mph on the freeway. At one point, it stopped and the driver popped open the tailgate before taking off again while packages fell out of the car.

Like my versions of the Indy 500, it came to a crashing halt with the driver jumping out of a still moving vehicle and trying to jump a fence into someone’s backyard. Best of all, no one was wearing a mask and for a few minutes my life was back to normal. Ah, what I would give for the good old days of 2019.

Back to sports and sex. My hat goes off to the folks in South Korea. I normally do not think of South Koreans as a funny bunch, but I have to applaud them for filling up the empty seats of a stadium with sex dolls to create the impression of a packed house. I am not sure if this creates an unfair home field advantage, but it certainly beats any of our ideas on how to bring pro sports back into our culture.

When sports return, I think sex doll night is a great idea. Each fan who attends should receive two sex dolls to place in the empty seat on each side of their seat. After the game, just buckle them into your car and now you can use the commuter lane for your drive home.

Something else that has bothered me to no end during this pandemic is how people suggest this is a great time to check out some of the endless podcasts out there. I have not heard anyone suggest this is a great time to check out some of the countless talk radio shows. I know the transistor radio powered by 9-volt batteries died a long time ago, but has radio in general died? Is this why the only station I can get on my stereo in the garage is Jack FM?

I don’t care what spin people try to put on this, but distance learning is not better than sitting inside a classroom crammed with more students than any local Fire Marshall wants to think about. There are some valuable life lessons you can only learn by being in a classroom. For instance, if I was a distance learner, something many of my teachers would have preferred when I was a teen, I never would have learned the following lesson. It is never a good idea to turn around in your seat and punch the guy behind you in the face because he keeps poking you with his pencil after you have finished your math final. You do this once you are outside the classroom door. If the teacher does not see it happen, he has no excuse to rip up your final exam.

I have changed the names of the days of the week since this pandemic began. Monday is now Boredday, the day my wife goes back to work and I have the greatest need for a sex doll.  Tuesday is now Toosday because it too is very boring until late in the afternoon and I remember I have to take the trash out to the street. Wednesday is simply Trashday, the day I play the over and under on what times the trash trucks pull up and empty my trash cans.

The most stressful day of the week for me is now Getbusyday, formerly Thursday. This is the day I need to get the house straightened up by the time my wife arrives home in the early afternoon. You see, she works four days a week while I, well, I think the word I am searching for is don’t. The couch covers need washing from the dogs sleeping all day on them. The floors need cleaning and I probably should shower since it has been a while. Anyway, the stress is horrific and I often need a drink by the time she gets home.

Friday is now Napday, the day my hard working wife gets to nap and I get to tiptoe around the house. This is usually the day of the week I will go out to the garage and patch up any leaks in those inflatable dolls I have. At some point I tell myself I will need them once traffic on the 101 begins to pick up. I’ve learned the importance of making sure the garage door remains closed. I left it open once and a nosy neighbor called the cops on me. She thought I had a gathering of more than ten people in my garage and none of us were wearing masks.

Saturdays are now Sitdays, the days I can sit in the backyard with my wife and enjoy her company while our dogs drive the neighbors nuts with their barking. If their barking begins getting to me, I just remove my hearing aids. Why get up from a good sit when you can just claim you thought the barking was coming from another house?

Finally, there is Sunday which I refer to as WTFday. Seriously, because my wife has a three-day weekend, I have no idea what day of the week it is. This is the day I have to use wisely before I get slammed with the coming week. I remind myself this pandemic will end sometime between the next election or the 2030 census and I will be free to go on a much needed vacation.

Until that time, I have to make the most use of my sex dolls. Currently, I enjoy placing them on my roof with binoculars so the world thinks our neighborhood is being watched over. Ours is the only neighborhood watch force that wears sexy nurses uniforms.

Top photo of blow up sex dolls at South Korean soccer match is a YouTube screenshot