This early evening a soaking rain has cleared the streets of Brooklyn. Bad weather keeps people in their houses and apartments. New York has been locked down since 8pm March 16 per order of the governor and mayor. That evening I closed the 169 Bar with my comrades and since then I have been isolation.

I only venture to the outside world to buy food and vodka. Fifteen minutes on Myrtle Avenue and back to re-isolation to faithfully quaff a pint of Georgi Vodka. Even in a pandemic there is no sense in the rejection of tradition.

But don’t dare to think this self-confinement is as bad as being a prisoner in the MAX prisons.

This is nothing and thankfully I don’t know what not nothing is between steel bars.

We are prisoners not of own device, but the dictates of governments attempting to stem the spread of Covid 19 and what do they know?
Nothing.

No one does and people are clamoring for an easing of restrictions.

WE WANT TO WORK.

The fighting cry of the right wing, but none of them added, “FOR MORE MONEY.”

Georgia looks like they will be the first state to declare we want to live even if we die.

Sie gesund.

The Peach Tree has no plan other than to go back to normal, but we have to prepare for the new normal.

First by supplying the embattled hospitals across the nation with the tools to handle a new outbreak as occurred during the Spanish Flu Epidemic; test kits, masks, gloves, relief workers, cleaning crews, doctors trained to deal with this virus. The first line of defenses has to be strengthened to withstand another wave of death and traumatic altercations.

That is Step # 1.

No more.

No less.