In case anyone wonders what, it has been like in New York City
the last few weeks, it’s been like that old black and white TV show, The
Twilight Zone. We just don’t know which
episode we’re in. It seems like one with
Aliens. Maybe the Aliens are living next
door or down the street, or they’re all on a hill just outside of town in
Scarsdale. But they’re here.
And, they are going to take over and soon. They look and speak and dress just like us so
we can’t even tell who the aliens are. In
fact, most of us don’t have any idea that they’re even here. But some of us know. We’re not sure who that is as yet but they
are trying desperately to warn us. One
of those in the know could be our Governor Cuomo The Younger. Another could be Dr. Fauci, no, probably Dr.
Brix. It’s definitely not Mayor De
Blasio. He doesn’t have a clue. He never does. And it’s not Joe Biden. He might be one of them. How does this all end? Will the those in the know be able to warn us
in time? Or will the Aliens eat us? That’s why they’re here. We’re dinner.
Or it could be one of those episodes where we are in
another dimension. We wake up in our bed
and everything seems fine but then we look around and something is askew. Then something else doesn’t quite fit and
then we realize we’re not at home. We’re
somewhere else but where? And, how to
get back? We don’t know what to do. We only know we have to find a lot of toilet
paper. Somehow, that is the key to it
all.
Or it could be one those episodes where we find ourselves
in an old, idyllic, little town in rural America around 1890. It’s summer.
The sun is shining bright. There
is a brass band playing. Kids are
running about, playing and laughing.
Young couples are walking, hand and hand. It’s all just perfect. There is only one problem, we’re dead. The train or the plane crashed or we just had
enough and checked out on our own but it’s over. It’s all over. And somehow, that’s a good thing.
Dicens simle factum est
Pro Bono Publico
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