My Westchester granny, (everyone calls her "mom,", let's us park on her lawn and tells us all about the history of #45.

She says it's all about that 5th Avenue thing. "That downtown realtor," not being accepted into NY High Society no matter how much money and fame he had.

Marriage into those families was the only way to penetrate the snooty uptown elites, and still, he had to taste the sting of rejection.

Mary informs us that this is what really eats him, why the constant angertard outbursts, the bullying, the gaslighting.

It all stems from this one grudge and he will never let it go.

Nicotine really makes a nice insecticide barrier for my raspberries and other vulnerable plants in my garden. I won't use any chemical out here so I'm always trying organic home methods.

Are smokers really being infected at a lower rate? Accurate information comes as a rarity these days.

For all I know I could be one.

We are the people who have to scramble and hustle to get by. We were financially unable to stock up on the consumer goods that America has become dependent on.

We obey the civil authority, we are ok with Social distancing, none of us want to get or spread this virus.

We have to work in retail grocery and convenience stores then come home to our families. We are, most likely, exposed to the virus daily then bring it on home, to spread it further. Good chance we have already had the virus and are continually spreading it.

There are millions of us dangerous carriers.

How is the government ever going to enforce a quarantine program with these giant bullet holes in it? Are we going around in circles?

Since when is it fair to have to wait 8x longer to get stimulus money because we choose not to have bank accounts?

This is an unwarranted penalty.

Wanting to write yet another short story and ripping ideas from current events and popular culture can have disappointing results.

Titled my new story, written in a couple of nights, Piranha Pool, my take on the popular ABC show, "Shark Tank."

Sort of a murder mystery with some Philip K. Dickian style of psychological and supernatural elements.

Satisfied with this story, I added it to the pile, parked my ass in front of the TV to watch the antenna TV comedy hour and behold, a Simpsons episode had a segment called, "Vultures Nest," complete with Mr. Burns as the top billionaire.

My old writing friend told me that all stories have already been written and that we could only expand on those frameworks. I'm a junior high dropout and he went to writing college so I'll take his word for it, disheartening as it is.

I've been self quarantined since March 12th. With no way to test if I have the virus I'm completely relying on rumor and hearsay. No science involved.

Tonic water: It has quinine in it right?

Z-Pack: I secured one, don't ask me how.

Ephedrine: I have to sign for this crap?

Vitamins: C and D

Marijuana: Cutout/Strawman purchase

Garlic: Wards off everything?

Was able to get an appointment for 4-21, maybe they will test me then. In the meantime, I'll stay high and cling to primitive superstitions and mind over matter delusions.

A random placebo should suffice.

It's a tight squeeze trying to cash your paycheck in a half hour lunch break and riding with a co-worker who humps Trump's hinie all the way through heavy traffic.

We cashed our checks, rushed to the truck to get back in time to clock in but this co-worker stops me:

"Where's my effin wallet?"

We search the truck it's not there. He goes in the bank, it's not there either.

He is going nuclear with the loud expletives. He gets back to the truck and gets all racial about Mexicans, the parking lot full of migrant workers cashing their checks just like us.

I know they could hear him, beyond cringeworthy. I just sat there, used soft tones trying to get him to chill out when I saw a Mexican woman approaching my window:

"Is this your wallet?" He reaches out rudely, grabs it firmly, opened the wallet and his effen eleven hundred dollars intact. He didn't even thank her.

Stereotype SHATTERED!

No Donald Dump, they aren't all thieves and rapists.

My wife and I were given a couple dozen Mason jars, but we don't can. So I came up with a plan: We would make "swear jars," out of them

It was decided that we come with various forbidden words and affix a fine for them to fill the jars with money.

We had a very animated discussion about which words to ban and fine.

What words, or phrases would you ban? What sort of fine would you charge for it?

I had priced certain words, like the "c" word, at 25$. If someone came into my house and said that, he would deserve the fine.

My old dog Jack, a Jack Russel terrier is 17 years old. He had some kind of a stroke 2 years ago and I have to take him outside every hour or so to go potty.

I did not want the dog, he was a year old and had nipped a child then put in doggy jail.

Jack was the best woods dog I ever had. He outperformed every other dog I ever had.

So I scheduled a death day for him next week.