Corona Time

It seems like only a few short months ago that Corona Time was a not-so-subliminal advertiser’s nudge to kick back and wrestle a slightly-too-big lime wedge into a chilled bottle of Mexican beer.  Although that may not have completely changed for the diehard enthusiasts of such activity, for many more of us, distancing and self-quarantining, it has become the preponderance of pondering, daydreaming, reflecting and deep thought made available by an abundance of unexpected alone time.  I have always embraced the notion that my thoughts, many of which I’ve been able to command and control after a lifetime of practice, were unique to me, at least in their diversity and arrangement, and that my physical being was merely an ambulatory vessel for carrying them around.  (Please don’t let my flowery imagery stop you in your tracks).  Surely, there’s ample evidence that perception is based on a complex network of individual experiences and not agreed upon empirical mandate…my blue is quite likely more than a trifle nuanced from yours.  Yet, it would seem contrary to one’s mental health to concede that any of the big-ticket items are debatable.  Good, for instance, is better than Bad…if only by pure definition.  Up is, well, up that way, not Down there.  I have never been starved, (maybe occasionally for affection), in the way distended-bellied children in abject poverty are starved but I know that in 2020, all humans should care for those who are…right?  It’s illogical, as any Vulcan would concur, for anyone to be unaccepting of our collective responsibility for the alteration of our planet’s ecosystem, belching gases and discarding poisonous waste into the air and water that sustain us.  And, in the face of a deadly viral pandemic, doing the Right Thing to insure our own safety as well as the safety of everyone around us…why would there even be a Plan B?  These are some of the conundra in play, doing loop-di-loop fly-bys in my conscious and subconscious thoughts as my disdain for public officials, inexplicably choosing to do the Wrong Thing, clouds my constructive mental gymnastics with scenes of horror-movie-level retribution against those unaligned with my views…imagine the guttural whine of the chain saw gnawing through the morbidly obese sinews and folds of blubbery, hydroxychloroquine-laced…   If only I was more inclined to do that lime-in-a-bottle thing.