David Dubrow's Blog, page 2

Joseph Simonet

This was from the last shoot I did with Joseph

I want to tell you about my friend Joseph.

In all ways, Joseph was a big guy: tall, muscular, enormous personality and generosity. Both a polymath and an autodidact, he was always amazingly well-read. He was possessed of a terrific sense of humor, and could go from more dry, subtle jokes to my kind of fifth-grade bathroom humor at any time. An absolutely enjoyable fellow to spend time with under any circumstances.

Joseph’s business was martial arts and fitness, both of which he did better than anyone else I ever worked with. Always experimenting, always learning, always innovating, he had achieved mastery in a number of martial arts, including Tracy’s Kenpo, Pentjak Silat, Wing Chun Kung Fu, Doce Pares Eskrima, and even Yang style Tai Chi Chuan, among others. Over time he began to bridge the gap between martial arts theory and real-world self-defense, making him a truly formidable instructor-trainer.

He had several higher-profile clients, including former Detroit Lions player Mike Utley, whom he helped with physical rehab after Utley’s paralysis, and former Stone Temple Pilots lead singer Scott Weiland.

I got to work with him on many instructional video projects, and the DVDs still hold pride of place front and center on my video shelf. He was a great man to work with: professional, eager, high-energy, always on.

Earlier I said he was a big guy. He’s now suffering from primary progressive aphasia, which is a type of dementia. It’s a dreadful thing to happen to such a great man. Dementia takes you away from your loved ones before it kills you, and for this to happen to Joseph is awful in a way that’s impossible to describe.

His daughter Carly is asking for your help to defray the cost of his care. Please click the link and give what you can. Or if you can’t afford to, share the link far and wide. Just a few years ago, Joseph had it all: a martial arts school in Wenatchee, Washington; a huge, beautiful property in Chelan; and a wife and family. This illness has taken so much from him, and he deserves comfort.

I wish you could’ve met Joseph when I knew him. I’m lucky to have been his friend.

I’d never ask this for myself, no matter what. Please help my friend Joseph.

Update: 6-1-2020

Over the last several weeks of distance learning for my son and dealing with the other effects of the Corona crisis, I’ve found time to read books in the wee small hours.

A notable effort is Alex Berenson’s nonfiction book Tell Your Children: The Truth About Marijuana, Mental Illness, and Violence. The issue of pot in America is so fraught with misinformation, competing political narratives, and controversy that before Berenson’s book it was impossible to determine fact from fiction about any of it. After Berenson’s book it’s still impossible, but what Berenson does is shine a spotlight on the potential dangers of marijuana, and how we did so little research of any kind before decriminalizing it in major areas of the U.S. There’s a massive difference between cannabinoid oil used for medicinal purposes and the THC in today’s marijuana, and pot lobbyists have exploited ignorance about the one to promote use of the other. We don’t know a great deal about both long- and short-term use of today’s strains of pot, and yet we’ve accepted marijuana as a cure-all for everything from insomnia to nausea to anxiety. Berenson does as well as anyone can to cut through the jargon and misinformation, but there’s so much garbage that his book can only be considered a necessary first step to understanding a subject few people seem to want to get to the bottom of.

—

I first discovered Jonathan Carroll’s novels in the house of friends who let me stay with them the first few weeks I moved to Colorado decades ago, and I’ll be eternally grateful to them for both their hospitality and library. At the time I started with Carroll’s Sleeping in Flame, a book about a man who discovers that he comes from a far stranger and yet more familiar place than he realizes, and he has to come to terms with a nightmarish legacy that threatens to turn his entire reality inside-out. Surreal, bizarre, and yet matter-of-fact, it’s the perfect introduction to Carroll’s incredible universe of magical realism. Over the years I acquired every Carroll book I could get my hands on, and enjoyed them all.

But, as it turned out, I’d read some of them out of order, namely the Answered Prayers series.

Answered Prayers follows the lives of people touched by the surreal, all of whom know each other in some way: Walker Easterling, Cullen James, Weber Gregston, and others. Odd names, yes. And, like most of Carroll’s books, at least some of the action takes place in Vienna, Austria. While I don’t think I missed anything by reading them out of order, over the last few weeks I reread the series in order of publication, getting the overarching story in full:

Bones of the Moon
Sleeping in Flame
A Child Across the Sky
Outside the Dog Museum
After Silence
From the Teeth of Angels

After Silence is a bit of an outlier, referencing characters from the other novels but lacking the magical connection that binds them. Outside the Dog Museum is kind of a frustrating read, with the protagonist a difficult person to like and a lot going on without much resolution. From the Teeth of Angels is the most disturbing work of the series, and leaves an unsettling mark on you long after you’re done reading it.

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In addition to reading, I did some writing for Romans One.

This piece talks about going somewhere outside of Hollywood for your entertainment:

You can rail about empty Hollywood tripe produced by hateful narcissists every single day, but until you make the difficult and necessary choice of not watching it, even the stuff you like, you’re contributing to a horribly corrosive system that will never change on its own. The more time and money you give them, the more sewage they’ll pump out.

And here, I discuss social media:

The use of social media, with its laughing/crying emojis, eye-rolling gifs, and relative anonymity, separates the true self from the internet version in ways that make us all seem awful and unlovable. The consequences of ruining someone’s afternoon over a disagreement are minimal, at best. Pile-ons are encouraged. If your ideological opponent says something patently stupid, it would be wrong not to ratio him. Right? Teach that “dummy” a lesson.

—

Reading books and avoiding the social media dopamine circus make me more into the person I want to be, so I’m going to continue to do that. I encourage you to do the same.

Stewards of the Earth: My Post at Romans One

My first piece at the Bible-centered site Romans One focuses on one of my favorite subjects: food!

If we’re to rule over the fish and birds and livestock, it’s up to us to determine the character and nature of that rule, aided by the Bible. The earth and all that live upon it belong to God. We’re rulers, we’re governors, we’re stewards, but as God says in Leviticus 25:23, “The land is mine.” So we’re to take good care of the earth because it doesn’t belong to us. This care includes stewardship of both land and beast.

An old joke goes something like this: “There’s plenty of room for all God’s creatures…right next to the mashed potatoes.” We were no longer enjoined to live as vegetarians since the day Noah landed on Mount Ararat. Which is good, because animals from chickens to pigs to cows are really quite tasty, and they provide us with nutrients that can be otherwise difficult to acquire.

Currently, the way we produce the majority of livestock is through CAFO farms. CAFO stands for Controlled Animal Feeding Operation, and it’s as awful as it sounds. In a CAFO, animals are confined to tiny cages for much of their short, miserable lives and fed substances to artificially increase desirable qualities that have nothing to do with nutrition. They’re pumped full of antibiotics to keep them from dying of illnesses contracted through standing all day in their own waste and mutilated to prevent them from injuring themselves. Chickens, for example, will occasionally tear out their own feathers when under stress, so the CAFO solution is to de-beak them.

Read the entire piece! You’ll dig it, I swear.

Deeper Glimpses into the Corona Universe

The Coronavirus death toll has risen of late, but the number of Corona cases has dropped. Because we’ve been relying on models that have been wrong from the very beginning, and nobody seems to have a decent grasp on the data, it’s difficult to determine how much of this is an improvement. The talking heads in our news media, those who don’t have an interest in maintaining a sense of panic, have suggested that we’re turning the corner or flattening the curve: choose the cliché that best comforts.

If the improvement is to be believed, then we should consider next steps: examining our reaction to the crisis and doing what’s necessary to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. Many of us are already demanding accountability, whether that comes from impeaching the Bad Orange Man again, demanding reparations from Xi Jinpooh, or some combination of that. We don’t live in a world of accountability anymore, if we ever did. People fail up, not down. Not only that, but demands for accountability are, for the most part, misplaced in their targets. I know who I’d want to hold accountable, and it’s most likely not who you’d want to pay for the loss of lives and livelihood. The people hollering for accountability also generally tend to demand closure in personal relationships, which is a virtual impossibility. Closure, the way it’s wished for, is a gift as rare as the Hope Diamond. It never happens the way you want it. The only people who can offer closure are fiction writers, and that’s their job: to give you the make-believe justice you don’t get in the real world. A world that offers closure is a world that doesn’t need stories. No accountability, no closure. Deal with it.

So the best we can do is hunker down, protect our own, and prepare for the next dose of abject stupidity from our political, cultural, and intellectual leaders.

What’s odd about this situation is how convenient it is, from a broader political/cultural standpoint. We’re told that the best thing we could do during this major worldwide crisis is literally stay at home. Don’t interact with others outside of the gigantic poisonous cauldron that is social media. Don’t go to church or synagogue. Just sit there and suckle the glass teat until you’re told it’s safe to go out again. It’s the Slacktivist Cataclysm, where social media and television-addicted shut-ins are saving the world by doing what they do every day: holing up and ordering delivery. Previous generations went without sugar and meat, they planted victory gardens for food to support the war effort. Today, we hoard toilet paper and glue our eyes to Netflix to support the War on COVID-19. And if you question the wisdom of shutting down the world economy to combat Coronavirus, you find yourself trapped in Manichean stupidity: Don’t die for Wall Street. Stay inside or you’re killing grandpa. Don’t you care?

I’ve noticed a creeping escalation in my locale, where requiring social distance through force of law is no longer good enough. First they told us not to gather in large groups. Then they shut down non-essential businesses (I’d argue that if your business remaining open means the difference between personal ruin and personal survival, it’s pretty damned essential). Now they’re shutting down entire public areas to make sure you diseased proles stay socially distanced.

—

CLOSED. No swings for you. People could die, you know. And it’d be your fault.

Also CLOSED. For your own good. 

Not only is this playground CLOSED, but the powers that be took the extraordinary step of removing the basketball hoops and backboards from the posts because HORSE kills. 

This is the world we live in: misery and isolation, with neighborhood oligarchs hoarding toilet paper. CHOOSE SOMETHING DIFFERENT.

Next week I might have something different, something non-COVID-related, but who knows? It’s the only story anywhere. The information we get is different every day, the massaged data is sketchy at best, and virus mitigation techniques have already devolved into stupid TSA-style security theater. Just keep your mouth shut and stay inside.

What the Future’s Going to Look Like

A few days ago President Trump extended the Coronavirus social distancing guidelines to include the entire month of April, which was unwelcome news for everyone save our political/media class of Twitter-addicted shut-ins. A major concern is not just when things will return to normal, but what normal will look like on the other side of this crisis. “We can’t return to business as usual,” the talking heads tell us.

Okay, but what does that mean? I’d like to think that we’ll make significant changes to our geopolitics, but there’s no guarantee that our leaders will do that. No doubt it will be impossible to get a consensus on what those changes should look like, no matter how many people die from COVID-19. Like so much, what happens next is going to be a waiting game while we importune the people we voted for to do what we voted them to do.

For my part, I’m still writing the science fiction adventure series I started last year. (Well, I’m trying to write it with everyone at home.) A theme in this new series is, somewhat unfortunately, a kind of contagion. I’m some time from finishing it, but in light of recent events, I don’t know how the story will be received. I know that there are likely many writers right now developing Coronavirus fiction of all kinds. We’ll see how that works out for them.

Disease was also a theme in my Armageddon trilogy. In the first book, The Blessed Man and the Witch, I introduced the secret war of Heaven versus Hell, with innocent people used as proxies to fight for the holy artifacts that would make a difference in the last battle. The second book, The Nephilim and the False Prophet, showed the characters attempting to stop Hell from gaining an insurmountable advantage, and how a third faction planned to change the nature of the conflict. Finally, in The Holy Warrior and the Last Angel, demons swarm across an Earth in which the angels are terribly outnumbered.

Hell’s victory plan involved the corruption of souls with horror and self-loathing; one way they did that was by releasing a virulent, incurable strain of leprosy. The American government’s response was to set up temporary hospitals (leper colonies) to quarantine the infected. Several characters wound up contracting the disease, which, while not immediately fatal, was nevertheless debilitating and disfiguring. Many sufferers attempted to conceal the symptoms by wearing gloves and/or surgical masks. In the following excerpt from The Holy Warrior and the Last Angel, Ozzie has recently joined up with Aidan, a teenage leprosy patient who fled a burning hospital in a stolen ambulance with Mrs. Cai; Lem, a bar owner now driving the ambulance; and Patty, a regular at Lem’s bar.

—

Ozzie glanced over his shoulder and found himself eyeball-fucking the weird, mute Mrs. Cai, who stared back and said nothing. Patty hadn’t moved. Aidan happened to look in his direction, and seeing him said, “Ozzie? Can I ask you something?”

Mierda. The kid hadn’t shut up for more than five minutes since they started this trip, and now Ozzie had broken the welcome silence by looking at him.

“What,” Ozzie said.

Aidan swallowed. “Uh…we’re all gonna have to fight, right? Fight the…the demons. Once we find the five angels.”

Ozzie didn’t reply.

“It’s just that…it’s not that I’m too scared to. You know, to fight. I mean, I am scared, but…well…I can’t see real well. I was gonna get cataract surgery next week, but…” Aidan lifted his gauze-wrapped hands. “And…the nerves in my fingers are shot. The ones I got left. I can’t feel anything.”

Leaning back, Lem glanced sidelong at Ozzie.

“We ain’t gonna leave you on the side of the road just ‘cause you’re sick, manito,” Ozzie said. “Just do what you can and stay out the way.”

“Can the angels cure us? You know, me and Mrs. Cai. People got cured in the Bible all the time.”

Ozzie shook his head. “No lo sé. Maybe.” He turned back around.

Squeezing the steering wheel hard enough to make his yellow rubber gloves squeak, Lem murmured, “I got it, too. The leprosy.”

“Sí. I know.”

Lem didn’t look at him. “I ain’t took these gloves off in five days. Afraid to see what my hands look like now.”

“Sí. Deal. We all got problems.”

Scowling, Lem shook his head and said, “We need gas.”

“Can we make it? We’re almost at the Lincoln Tunnel.”

“This thing drinks more gas than a Caddy. You want it to shit the bed in the Tunnel? What if we got to chase the angels around like we did in Philly?”

—

Take care, and stay healthy.

Coronavirus Stories: “You Will Never Return”

My little family has developed a kind of COVID-19 mythology to gamify the unusual circumstances of the Chinese Coronavirus pandemic. We’re aware that this has hit many people in the worst possible ways, and our hearts go out to them. Splitting the difference between limiting the spread of the disease and limiting the economic damage has proven to be a massive challenge to our leaders, such as they are. Here’s a dramatization of the mythology we created. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

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FEBRUARY 8, 2020

“Did you bring a snack?” Jonah asked.

I shook my head. “No. You just had breakfast like an hour ago.”

“So?”

“So so.”

“Ugh.” Jonah wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his Pikachu T-shirt and moved further ahead on the forest path. “I’m line leader.”

“I’m the light turner-offer,” I called.

“There aren’t any lights.”

“So?”

Next to me, Rose checked her Apple Watch. “Almost closed a ring.”

“Nice,” I replied.

Around a bend we reached the wooden tower that loomed over the marsh beyond. I craned my neck to watch people climbing the four flights of stairs to reach the top.

“Are we going up there?” Jonah asked.

“If you really want to. Didn’t you guys go up there last weekend?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s see what’s here at the bottom,” Rose suggested, so we went around the tower, inspecting the stanchions and concrete foundation sunk into the ground. Spider webs glistening between the beams told us that few people walked under it like we were doing. Jonah found a piece of scrap lumber and leaned it against a stanchion, claiming that in doing so, he helped build the structure.

“What’s this?” Rose said, and pointed a little further, deeper into the woods.

In a small clearing, someone had used Spanish moss, stones, and branches to construct a small-scale crop circle of concentric rings. It was a neat sort of pattern, so Jonah stood in the middle and held out his hands, pretending to be beamed up by extraterrestrials. I took a few photos, and we walked back to the car before Florida’s heat and humidity drove the last bits of fun out of the nature walk.

We didn’t think about it again for several weeks. We didn’t think we had to. Jonah standing in the middle of the circle was just a bit of fun.

SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 2020

Jonah had been out of school for the first full week of the Corona pandemic, and we were still adjusting to the societal upheaval like everyone else. Despite the necessity of social distancing, we needed Vitamin D, fresh air, and exercise, so we went to our favorite park for a walk. At all times we were careful to maintain a six-foot distance between us and passersby. Jonah and I made a game of it, sometimes going way off the path to avoid getting near bicyclists and joggers (we called it playing “Zombie Apocalypse”).

After Frisbee catch and other messing around, we again found ourselves at the base of the lookout tower.

“What happened to the UFO circle?” Rose asked.

We hurried back to the clearing to find that the strange symbol was gone. No trace remained.

“Huh,” I said.

“Oh well,” Jonah said.

“Did you do anything to it?” I asked him.

“No! How could I? We all just got here.”

“Well, you stood in it to begin with,” I said, peering at him. “Maybe…”

“What?”

“Maybe it was a dimensional portal. Maybe you took us to a parallel universe when you went inside.”

Jonah’s brow furrowed. “Maybe. But I didn’t mean to.”

“It wasn’t long after you went in there that the Coronavirus became a big thing here. We’re now in the Corona Universe, where it’s a major pandemic. I think in our original universe it stayed small.”

Eyes widening, Jonah nodded. “And…and remember when we got back home that day, people started talking all weird? Like garggha-arrrgle-arg.”

Rose uttered a low chuckle.

“Yeah,” I said. “But we must’ve gotten used to it and understand them now.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, look,” I said. “Let’s try to get back to our original universe. I don’t want to be in the Corona Universe anymore.”

Jonah frowned, nodding. “We have to build another portal.”

We wandered around the area, looking for rocks, branches, and Spanish moss. There were plenty of branches, but no rocks or moss. Usually, there’s Spanish moss everywhere in our part of Florida. Where the heck could it—

“Hey!” Jonah shouted. “I found something.” He held up a pine cone and squinted at it. “There’s writing! It says, ‘You will never return.’”

I stared at him. “Oh, no.”

He threw the pine cone into the woods. “What?”

“Our doubles. Here in the Corona Universe. They lured us to this spot in our universe, then switched places with us, stranding us here.”

“So they’re in our universe,” Jonah said. “Our original one.”

“Doing God knows what,” I agreed.

Rose sighed. “So now we’re stuck here.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Guess we’ll have to make the best of it.” I peered at the place where the portal had been. “Well, let’s find a place to sit down and rest.”

Jonah led the way to a bench. “Did you bring a snack?”

“Yeah. An orange.”

“Cool.”

 

The End…?

Coronavirus-Inspired Bits and Pieces 3-19-2020

The world is gripped with concern about COVID-19. From mandatory quarantines to overcrowded hospitals to rising death tolls, the news is grim. What makes it worse is the drip-drip-drip of information every day: we’re not in control of this, and it shows. The federal government, local governments, and you and I are feeling our respective ways through it all, with varying degrees of success. We know intellectually that this will be over one day, and that we’ll come back from it, stronger than ever. Of course we will. But until that special, magical day comes when our normal lives reassert themselves, we have to get through the now. And the now isn’t a feature film-style montage of families playing Jenga, fighting and making up, eating meals together, and having video chats with Meemaw and Papaw. The now is filled with days, and those days are filled with hours, and those hours are filled with minutes, and you have to live every one of them. When those minutes are tinged with worry, it’s difficult.

Staying occupied helps. Nothing makes time fly faster than staying occupied. You know this. Binge-watching television shows isn’t the same as being occupied, but you do what you have to if it gets you through the now. I love TV as much as anyone; a casual search through this site proves that. But these days I’m watching less television in the effort to do things that don’t involve just sitting around.

Praying is also good. Pray for your family, your country, and the people in your country. Businesses have closed because of this. Some of them permanently. Decent people who work hard every day to build something they’ve always wanted to create are going to lose it all, if they haven’t already. I wish it wasn’t the case. I wish a nice, fat check from the federal government would make everyone better. It won’t. Help who you can where you can how you can. The uncertainty is dreadful, yes. But worse is the certainty of personal financial ruin.

I’m writing this not because I have information that you haven’t already installed into your personal hard drive, but so I can read this a year from now to remember what it was like when we lived in the now of Coronavirus. My son’s school is closing for a month, if not longer. My wife’s working from home for at least that long. We’ve stocked up on food and essentials in the hope that we won’t need them; our Hurricane Kit already has vital stuff, so we simply topped it up. I’m praying that in May or June or even sooner we’ll all of us be standing in a sea of canned soup, beef stew, and tuna, exchanging cooking tips to punch up the flavor of Progresso Chickarina for a light summer appetizer before the neighborhood barbecue.

—

You want to support your local restaurants because they’re taking it in the shorts during this isolating time, but maybe you like to cook at home, too. So here’s a recipe for brisket that’s so good it should be illegal. I can’t believe it hasn’t been banned yet: Nach Waxman’s brisket recipe.

What’s amazing about this recipe is not just that it makes the best brisket you’ve ever had, but it requires no extra liquid: the onions and brisket do all the work. Tremendous beefy flavor, and the slices are fork-tender without disintegrating into little bits. You don’t even need to make it with brisket. We’ve tried it with chuck roast and it comes out just as good. Any tough slab of beef will do. To make it even better, you can add more carrots and whole cloves of garlic: they give it a little sweetness that really works. If you try this out, you won’t go back to the slow cooker version with onion soup mix and beef broth again. You won’t have to. Don’t wait until Hanukkah to make the tastiest brisket available: do this now.

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For a Zen approach to cooking and baking, take a look at Apron’s YouTube channel. Minimal music, no talking: just a recipe performed with clear competence. All in close-up so it’s a Mr. Hands approach to instructional video, but it works. You don’t need to know who Apron is. You don’t want to. Don’t ruin the magic. Just watch. The yeasted banana bread is my favorite. There’s something to it that draws you in: the faint kitchen noises, the imperfect English subtitles, the little pat of her whisk against the egg yolks to break them before she mixes. You can’t look away. You want to make the same recipes that she does, but her simple perfection, the lack of any wasted motion, is entirely daunting. This is how an angel would make doughnuts, or french toast, or sandwich rolls in the kitchens of Heaven. To even think about eating her creations is to commit sacrilege.

Or maybe I’m just going stir-crazy.

—

As we work out the details of everyone being at home at once all day long, I try to find the time, concentration, and quiet needed to write anything but blog posts about food. I’ll get it sorted. My problems are insignificant compared to what’s actually going on.

My friend A.J. Powers showed me this brief passage from C.S. Lewis. I think you’ll appreciate it.

Take care, and God bless you and your family. I’ll talk to you next week.

COVID-19 vs. a Zombie Apocalypse

A disease pandemic like Coronavirus and an end-of-the-world scenario like a Zombie Apocalypse have a lot more in common than you might think. If you prepare for a zombie-caused civilizational collapse, you’ll also be in good shape to deal with COVID-19-afflicted neighbors coughing on your doorstep.

The good news is that the Coronavirus pandemic is, by all accounts, a temporary state of affairs. The elderly and people with preexisting respiratory ailments bear the majority of the risk from COVID-19. So while this pandemic bad for you if you’re old and/or having trouble breathing, the rest of us are more likely to survive infection if our attempts to prevent it fail. So take good care of Meemaw and Papaw, but remember: civilization will survive. This will burn itself out.

This is not the case with a viral Zombie Apocalypse, where the mortality rate is typically 100% for anyone exposed to the disease. In my book The Ultimate Guide to Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse I describe the three types of zombies: viral zombies, supernatural zombies, and voodoo zombies, and how one can not only defeat such creatures individually, but also handle an apocalypse scenario based on each type. For the purposes of this piece, we’ll compare the COVID-19 pandemic to a viral zombie attack, as the parallels are much closer.

If your intent is to cocoon, that is, to stay at home and ride the Coronavirus pandemic out, you have to prepare your home for an extended stay. That includes not just having enough food and water to last you at least a few weeks, but also stockpiling medical supplies like pain relievers/fever reducers, first aid products, and any prescription medications you might need. You’ll also want to bank a supply of hygiene products, including toilet paper, baby wipes (many uses for these other than wiping infant butts), and soap. If you’re concerned about looking like a wild-eyed prepper, don’t buy all your supplies at one place: spread out your purchases across several stores to draw less attention to yourself. One guy buying ten packs of Charmin and five cases of Dinty Moore beef stew at the local Safeway may seem suspicious, but the same guy buying a case here, a case there at a number of different stores doesn’t raise an eyebrow. It’s not alarmist to stockpile food at any time, for any reason. Just be smart about it.

Putting plastic sheeting and duct tape over doors, windows, and vents isn’t a bad idea, necessarily, but it may be overkill for COVID-19, which is spread through coughing, sneezing, or touching something an infected person touched, then touching your face. So it’s not an airborne contagion outside of six feet. Unless your home is literally surrounded by coughing, snot-blowing Coronavirus carriers, you can leave the drop cloths and duct tape in the garage. For now.

However, you should always deny visual access to the interior of your home as a basic security measure, just like in a Zombie Apocalypse. So if you’re cocooning, keep your doors and windows covered.

Societally speaking, the worst-case scenario with Coronavirus is an illness-caused breakdown of basic services: electricity, water, or even emergency services like police and fire departments. Have extra water on hand: at least two weeks’ worth. If you’ve got a gas grill, buy an extra propane tank so you can cook outdoors before everything goes bad in the fridge. If you’ve got a generator, buy fuel for it today. Charge your electronic devices and acquire a solar or crank-powered radio so you can monitor the airwaves when you get bored of playing Monopoly, waiting for the internet to come back. Buy extra batteries for everything, too. Invest in a chemical toilet before the water goes out and the commodes stop flushing. Don’t pour buckets of precious drinking water down the toilet, trying to get rid of the morning’s gluey beef stew-and-Saltine shits.

This is all basic survival prep stuff, and don’t let your betters in the media tell you that it’s alarmist to prepare for disaster, or even just inconvenience. COVID-19 isn’t likely to make people start looting neighborhoods under the cover of darkness, but wouldn’t it be nice to prepare your home and family in case something like that does happen? Have you taken your God-given right to defense of your person and family seriously enough to arm yourself? If not, why not?

Nobody ever said that they wished they hadn’t prepared so well. For anything. Even a Zombie Apocalypse. It’s not too late to prep, even now. You’ll feel better after you do.

Oh, and wash your hands. A lot. And tell the people you love that you love them more often. Can’t hurt.

Soulbound Issue 2

In April of 2019 I wrote about writer/illustrator Paula Richey’s successful Kickstarter campaign for her original comic Soulbound: Issue 1. A brief foray into magic and terror, it showcased great art and sharp writing.

Now it’s time for Issue 2.

Paula says:

This is issue two, Escape, in which we get to know the second hero of our story, Torrin. Captured by an insane sorceress who intends to transform him into a monstrous slave, his only hope is to escape before she can complete her spells. But when Becca lands in his prison, he must find a way to save them both.

Paula was kind enough to give me a preview of Issue 2, and it’s already a lot of fun. Things get a lot more dangerous in just a few pages for Becca and Torrin, and the sneak peek has only whetted my appetite for more.

The future of publishing is indie, and what’s both welcome and refreshing about Paula Richey’s work is that her only agenda is to entertain, which is why we read things like comics about magical realms. Even at my age.

Check out the Kickstarter page for Soulbound Issue 2, and kick in some money for a fun comic.

Bits and Pieces 2/28/2020

Between recent illness and attendant insomnia, I’ve found a bit more time over the last few months to take in media. My sleep loss is your gain when it comes to media reviews, so let’s hit it.

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Memories of the Alhambra: I tried like hell to like this, but could only get through the first episode. It had some interesting ideas: a disappearing programmer, an immersive augmented reality game, the mingling of old-world Spain and modern technology. And yet it didn’t do it for me. Not sure why. Call it the one K-drama I didn’t like. I may try again in the future.

Save Me: I gave this a brief mention in my K-drama rundown on Hollywood in Toto, but it bears mentioning here. This is a very dark show, and goes places with the characters that I’ve never seen on other television programs. The plot involves a cult called The Mighty New Sky, and how it tries to take over a town in South Korea. It’s full of disturbing moments involving a nice family’s seduction and destruction, horrific betrayals, and bizarre rituals with a creepy cult leader. A bit too long, but full of unforgettable moments. The themes of friendship, familial love, and aging cynicism vs. youthful idealism really make this a show to watch.

Ultraviolet: A Polish crime show set in Lodz, focusing on a group of vigilantes solving both cold cases and new crimes using social media hacking, much to the chagrin of the local police department. The characters are likable, and there are some genuinely funny moments, but no surprises to speak of. The culprits tend to be rich industralists, Polish nationalists, and other such stock heavies. Still, it’s fun and fairly lighthearted. As good as any cop show you’ll see on American TV, though with similar social commentary.

Unit 42: A Belgian crime show, this one about a team of cops solving crimes that have a technological angle, like internet-connected pacemakers that explode and semi-autonomous vehicles chauffeuring corpses. A bit heavier than Ultraviolet, which gives it a more gripping style, but like Ultraviolet, there are no surprises. An alert viewer will figure out whodunit long before the cops do, which is a problem: the episodes often only make sense if you ignore the massive plot holes throughout. You will be entertained if you turn off your brain before watching.

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I also read books, on occasion.

Salt: A World History: The title says it all. It’s a history of salt and its effect on various cultures throughout the world. A dry subject, naturally, that edifies and occasionally entertains. I like how it destroys myths about salt and explains its value to civilizations both ancient and current. Author Mark Kurlansky has books on other foodstuffs, including Cod and Milk. And Paper, if you are inclined to eat it. For my part, I’m full.

A History of the World in Six Glasses: Author Tom Standage provides a sweeping history of six world-changing beverages: beer, wine, spirits, coffee, tea, and Coca-Cola in a book that’s far more than the sum of its drinks. Who knew how important coffee was to The Enlightenment? What was the first beer made of, and how important was it to early man? The parts on Coke are a little more anemic compared to the section on tea, for example, but that’s more due to Coca-Cola’s place on the world stage than a weakness of the text. A lot of fun to read. Think of it as a history book for people who hate history books.

American Pie: My Search for the Perfect Pizza: I’ve had a lifelong interest in baking bread, and when my wife got me a copy of Peter Reinhart’s book Artisan Breads Every Day more than ten years ago, it helped kick-start my bread making to the level I’d always wanted: artisan loaves with the big holes. While American Pie isn’t a new book, published in 2003, it’s nevertheless a terrific travelogue of Reinhart’s quest to find the best pizza in the world. What constitutes the perfect pizza and if he actually finds it will have to be read about in the text. Full of recipes for both dough and toppings, Reinhart promulgates the idea that the quality of any pizza starts with the crust: 80% of the grade, so to speak. So even a pizza with mediocre sauce can be saved by a great crust. Obviously, this is a cookbook in large part, so factor that into your buying decision. If you want to know how to make tasty pizza at home, from lean Neapolitan pies to the more substantial New Haven pizzas, this is the book you need. My only problem is the disappointing paucity of pictures. All that reading makes my lips hurt.