Here in Massachusetts, we’re wondering if the current pandemic is the end of the world, or just the beginning. Maybe, once we shake off the cold, we’ll see the world in a totally new and positive light. Or, we’ll come to the sobering realization that this really is the end.

To be honest, this doesn’t feel like it’s rising quite to the apocalyptic level yet. Maybe it’s just a precursor of apocalypses to come.

Like, what, there are several apocalypses? The complete and utter destruction of the world can’t happen “every now and again” now can it. Remember: think about what you’re saying before you blurt it out.

The damnable virus that’s preventing us from gathering in beer establishments and sneezing directly into our hands just prior to extending them forward in gestures of friendship is apparently clouding your mind. And that’s wrecking the plans we all had for a huge apocalyptic end-of-the-world bash, where my homebrew comes spouting from kegs and gets people smashed, such that they forget their stupid apocalypse troubles.

If the world does end, does that mean that, from the ashes, a griffin will rise? Or, instead, will cockroaches, which we all heard in 1970s could survive nuclear annihilation, take over?

Ech. Honestly, I’m just hoping we survive until November and can vote.

It’s true that I’m polling in the low single digits nationally (or maybe, like, below 1%) for the Democratic nomination, but still, I feel good about my candidacy relative to the effort I’ve put in. Like, I have put no effort into running. I mean none.

And yet I’ll get more votes than you will.

That’s just the way it is: things come easy for me, and being president would be easy as well. If I were in the White House, I would affect change on day one by doing a couple of simple things, like adding some color. I mean, come on, pure white? What if we at least did the trim in a beige?

Second, I’d renovate the Oval Office to add a few hard angles. Maybe make it the Rhombus Office, or the Trapezoid Office. Whatever shape is most likely to freak out foreign heads of state is what I’m for. Keep them on their toes.

Finally, I'd bring Democrats and Republicans together by installing a little bar with a keezer so I could serve my presidential homebrew right from the tap. If there's one thing that can bring the parties together, it's beer. Homebrew is missing from the White House and to my mind that's a real shame.

I can already sense my write-in poll numbers going up.

Several people have asked me if I expect to win the Presidential Medal of Freedom before I die. And why wouldn’t they ask that? I’m loved by millions, and I’ve done enormous amounts for the American people.

Have my actions on behalf of the citizens of our country flown under the radar, with almost no one knowing about or being able to document my contributions? Probably. Some people claim I’ve contributed nothing at all. Like that makes me unqualified! It turns out you don’t have to have served your country at all.

On the other hand, I don’t have lung cancer.

However, please alert the president that I have had many struggles with anosmia. This deserves something, doesn’t it? I know that Rudy Giuliani contends that you can’t get the Presidential Medal of Freedom with anything less than a stage 4 cancer diagnosis, but what about the Vice Presidential Medal of Good Humor? Or the Speaker of the House Medal of Coolness Under Pressure?

A couple of guys I met on the street told me that there’s a chart that is used to dole out medals, and the only way to get to the presidential medal of freedom is either to serve your country with distinction, or else get a stage 4 diagnosis. Great! This means I can’t get it if I catch my forthcoming cancer early, like stage 1. Makes me want to let that damned cancer thrive!

What’s your plan to win the PMoF?

Another thing that happens in my BBC radio play contest entry, soon to be written (due date 1/31/2020!), is that the border guards at US-Canada crossings are full of misinformation. “Each adult is allowed to bring two children, half a pound of cheese, and a loaf of black bread across the border.” There’s no truth to this, but we comply, since most of us couples don’t have more than four children total. (But imagine if we did!).

Other border guards get it into their heads that you aren’t allowed to enter if you’re not bringing with you, per adult, two children, half a pound of cheese, and a loaf of black bread, which gets everyone very confused. There’s this major snafu in which people are barred from entering the US from Canada without these items. Many have exactly two children and half a pound of cheese, but fail on the black bread. They get hollered at by the border guards: “This is pumpernickel!”

And there’s more.