Of the many unprecedented facts concerning the coronavirus is that the increasing severity of the pandemic continues to catch the media with its pants down. From the feared freezing of computers in 2000 to the various Ebola, Swine flu, Bird Flu and other new diseases that threatened to end the world, the ever-growing plethora of news sources went way over the top in predicting Armageddon. This time, the CBS and NBC Evening News week after week would lead with stories about violent storms sweeping across the country and stranding millions in their wake. Nothing about this Chinese epidemic, or if there were a story it was buried near the end of the broadcast.
Now they’re playing catch-up ball. As a news junky, nothing makes my stomach churn more than watching the news zero in on the abject horror of the ever-changing epicenters of the pandemic. I see 18-wheelers loading bodies into freezer compartments and military trucks transporting bodies from Milan. Yet, locally in upstate New York I make my journey out of quarantine to buy milk at Stewarts and rice and soup at WalMart, and if I didn’t know better I’d think it was business as usual.
Increasingly, things are becoming far worse than Stephen King could have conjured, and the cable news stations are “breaking news” every few minutes with another horror story. About the only comic relief is watching the brothers Cuomo on CNN dual with each other about ventilators. My son Michael calls me now every few days to check in. He, better than anyone, understands my personal demon who sits on my shoulder and warns me of my impending doom, a psychosis I’ve had ever since my mom had breast cancer in 1948. But she lived to be 92. Michael gave me a reality check. This time, he said, my paranoia is not psychosis. I’m not leaving my property again until its “safe.”
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**Feature image David Wilcock