Clinton, South Carolina, Tuesday, September 1, 2002, 8:36 a.m.

Wow. It’s September. When will wonders cease?

For the first time in my life, something has happened that is as bad as it could be. I’m grading on a curve. In absolute terms, the novel coronavirus COVID-19 – epidemic regionally, pandemic worldwide – could theoretically dwell in the realm of ultimate badness if it ended life on earth. (It’s early yet.) As a practical matter – Lord knows we want our analyses to be practical – let’s just say it has exceeded all expectations, at least here in the States.

President Twitter has been worse than I imagined. This is a surprise. He is not a man I like. He is the only president I do not want to meet. My expectations were low. Turns out I gave him too much credit.

Many of his fans don’t seem to know he is in charge.

For no reason that makes any sense, each month brings with it a glimmer of optimism. Surely this nightmare has a bottom. Fred Cunningham, whom I used to know fairly well and remain in touch by that paragon of the personal, social media, referred to it this morning as “the 74 Days of August.”

Deaths, riots, hurricanes, would-be sports that no one can watch, all in the midst of a battle over the country’s future … August was a slog across the Sahara with a thermos of water and a reluctant mule.

When was the last good month? I’m going with February, even though I don’t remember it.

Among the items that have caught me by surprise:

Kenosha, Wisconsin, is a hotbed of discontent.

A large percentage of football teams will not play at all in 2020. At the moment, a tiny percentage is playing. Playoff games in several sports are taking place in empty buildings, with crowd noise simulated. It beats nothing. Just barely.

The Constitution doesn’t matter if no one in a position of power will enforce its provisions.

Russia has somehow managed to make the most powerful nation in the world a satellite.

Nothing is getting better except, apparently, the S&P 500, whatever that is.

Our leader, still dear to some, spends most of his time running up the world’s biggest golf tab (strictly on courses he owns) and tweeting.

The entire Administration once foreclosed on Grandma’s farm.

If mobile phones went dead, no one would know what day it is.

Theoretically, we are adaptable and resurgent. When this is all over and President Twitter is in jail or exile (St. Helena comes to mind), how much of this change will remain?

Have we gotten out of the habit of going outside? Going to events? Ballgames? Movies? Travel? 

How long will we reside in two camps, the lonely and the hostile? The depressed and the belligerent? Those who watch cable news and those who don’t? Those who care and those beyond it? The bitter and the mad?

 

Take a look at my new website, Laurens County Sports. It’s undoubtedly going to be better when Laurens County has actual sports again.

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If you yearn for my writing in larger doses, I’ve written quite a few books. Most are available here.

Lightning in a Bottle, the first of my two motorsports novels, is now available in audio (Audible, Amazon, iTunes) with the extraordinary narration of Jay Harper.

My eighth novel, a political crime thriller, is called Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. It’s right up to date with the current political landscape in the country.

My writing on other topics that strike my fancy is posted here.