Doing a 180 in 2020

Half a year is just about in the history books. It began in the fledgling days of what turned out to be a non-winter in these parts. In its waning weeks, New Yorkers braced themselves for a post-plastic bag world, which seemed—believe it or not—like a big deal at the time. On March 1st, when the plastic ban kicked in, Lazarus risen from the dead appeared—for all intents and purposes—to be the Democratic nominee for president. I had hoped that my vote in the forthcoming New York presidential primary, scheduled in April, would carry some meaning, but I bowed to the inevitable.

Fast forward a few weeks and New York State was in a lockdown—as was most everywhere else—because of the unremitting spread of COVID-19. We had heard about the virus for months, but it didn’t seem to concern many people, including our clueless leaders who, it seems, could have prevented the worst of what was to come. And, lo and behold, Governor Andrew Cuomo—a notorious Queens-accented bully boy not known for his wit and charm—morphed before our eyes into a wise and reassuring leader. His daily news conferences became must-watch TV. In fact, the tri-state area was inundated with briefings, with Cuomo’s often sandwiched between New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio’s in the morning and New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy’s in the early afternoon. Andy boy shined in contrast with the bumbling, unctuous de Blasio and tedious Murphy.

As the non-winter morphed into a non-spring, things got pretty bad for a while. Except for a seven o’clock salute in the evening—when individuals materialized en masse to bang pots, blow bugles, and applaud the health care heroes and other “essential workers”—the streets were deathly still. Eventually, most of us were masked while out and about, with some folks leering at their neighbors as if they were radioactive. As the weeks passed and things began improving, the citizenry at large assumed a less anxious posture and the radioactive factor noticeably ebbed.

Finally, when there was real light at the end of the tunnel, the George Floyd death occurred, which sparked protests and legitimate calls for police reform. But as is often the case with a noble cause, the protests and their demands Jumped the Shark. From top to bottom, our American politicians looked remarkably inept, making one silly decision after another and saying the darndest things.

So, this is where we are now: Calls for “de-funding the police,” removal of statues, and autonomous zones. COVID-19 still lives but in now the Theater of the Absurd. In retrospect, America’s favorite pandemic governor certainly earned his “A” in theater, but his decision-making throughout the crisis is presently under well-earned scrutiny by friends and foes alike and the man, a bully by nature, doesn't like it.

April showers turned into June humidity and the New York State primary as well. Several weeks ago, I received a Board of Elections notice informing me that I was entitled to vote by absentee ballot. So, for the first time ever, I did so by mail. It works for me. Many of the original presidential candidates remained on the ballot. Thus, I voted for Andrew Yang and his delegate slate. For in this unfortunate, crazy snapshot in time, I remembered him fondly as an interesting, humorous, forward-looking fellow—a positive and civil person in a sea of shrill and pandering politicians.  

Now playing in the Theater of the Absurd: A local micro-brewer recently announced a new beer for the month of July called "Defund the Police." When I first heard about this, I wondered, "What were those guys thinking?" Their product is popular in area stores and bars. I've even purchased it from time to time, but never again. Some things are just beyond the pale—ale in this instance.

They've certainly got us covered.

A masked man and his unmasked best friend.

We take no chances, too. Hand sanitizer before entering a disinfected subway car.

And with a mask on and gloves for the most squeamish.

Most of us comply...

But some throw COVID-19 to the wind.

This is Lincoln Center in the Theater of the Absurd.

It depends on what the meaning of short is.

The neon lights are still bright on Broadway, but nobody's there to see them.

Studio 54 ain't what it used to be. But, then, what is?

Long live Columbus, Columbus Circle, Columbus Avenue, Columbia University, and Columbia, Pennsylvania, too.

How I pine for the days of Johnny Carson, when late-night comedians were actually funny.

I stay home for Yu. What about you?

One of the many casualties of the pandemic is our organic recycling. Due to budget shortfalls, it has been temporarily suspended until June 2021. So the powers-that-be say.

The streets are dirtier, too, courtesy of the suspension of alternate-side parking rules and curbside cleaning. They are coming back, I hear, but in some less clean incarnation.

Friends don't let friends drink and drive, nor discard used masks on the sidewalks and streets. In the above image, it's on a boardwalk in Van Cortlandt Park. Masks and gloves are all over the place.

Sadly, not quite as much as I once did. And the worst is yet to come, I fear!

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)