Puppies and pancakes of the pandemic

Pancakes of the pandemic - I don’t need some perfect person hawking a self-evident diet book on the Today Show to hip me to the secrets of making myself fat. We all know how to get fat, and what exactly is a short stack? I saw a political pundit on television reporting from his study and I thought, “why is there an open waffle iron on the shelf behind him?” But it was a laptop because who's cool like that except me? Runners have fared the best during this fitness fall back interlude because they wear GPS watches and compete in virtual races. Fredman’s dietary advice: “it’s not about the diet you’re on, but about the diet you're off. You have to run eight miles to burn off the calories from one Big Mac, so save some time and eat a Fruity Pop instead.”

Prince of the pandemic - My neighbor took in a re-homed mixed-breed black puppy named Mike from a family member, but changed the dog’s name to Prince. So now Prince the Pup is the artist formerly known as Mike. Prince of Raspberry Beret, Red Corvette and Purple Rain gave the greatest ever Super Bowl halftime show in Miami in 2007, or as the Romans called it, Super Bowl XLI. Prince was young and fit, athletic and creative, famous and rich. He killed Purple Rain during a deluge and lightning storm and the on-field young crowd sang right with him. Prince died from an overdose of Fentanyl in April of 2016 at the age of 57. Prince was 5-foot-2 and weighed 112 pounds. Anyone gets caught up in addiction; it can take their mind and soul before taking their life. Fame and fortune offer no immunity. 

Systemic to the pandemic - The late comedian Robin Harris had a riff where he called people test tube babies. Why not allow test tube babies to hit the beaches and bars while the control group stays home and watches to see what happens next? Thousands are prepared to dumb their way to death while others say “you go ahead, just include us out.” I am prepared to be dumb if the beach opens up or a lacrosse tournament with 100 teams gets the green light. And believe me, I agree, if you contract the virus by bullheadedness and inconsiderations for others, you should forfeit your right to medical assistance. 

Pandemic Hyperphrenic - When did so many people become epidemiologists? I even heard the venerated governor of New York Andrew Cuomo talk about how long the coronavirus could live on a subway strap. It caught my attention because the virus is not alive, it is best explained as the crossroads where biology and chemistry come together. What does this have to do with sports? Everything evidently, you don’t see any sports being played, as we duck everything and everybody and 99 percent of people couldn’t write a coherent paragraph about viruses and other airborne contagions. I just know I don’t want 100,000 microscopic replicating spiked balls up my nose anytime soon.  

Snippets - Jon Warren, a former Cape basketball player, received his bachelor’s degree in sociology from Talladega College in Alabama, but didn’t get to walk and his mom Teresa missed her trip to Alabama for graduation. John plans to continue his education toward a masters degree. Jon is an impact player as a person and is destined to do great things. Congratulations, Jon Jon Warren. People living vicariously through others have now sunken into a world of virtual vicariousness. Man, it is getting tough out there. There is a blues lyric,  “I stand accused of the things I’ve done.” I am periodically accused on being a Cape guy, which means apologist, not being able to see beyond the positive haze I walk around inside. Let's say that is true, now what? Grand Pop don’t get no redshirt, missing this spring season is gnawing at me like a weasel inside my pant leg. Cape football opens the fall season Saturday, Sept. 12, at St. Georges Tech. The following week, the Vikings will host William Penn Friday, Sept. 18. Let’s hope the season starts on time. I recently texted my wrestler grandson Mikey and asked him, “how much do you weigh?” Reflecting back on my own school days, I can’t remember either of my grandfathers ever asking me a question other than, “who are you again?”  Go on now, git!