My Corona Diary (Take III): Pandemic, Shmandemic (Get Your Asses Back To Work)

<Eternally Yours (1978)
US LP Front Cover><https://punkygibbon.co.uk/bands/s/saints_eternally.html>

Don't talk to me 'bout what you've done
There ain't nothin' changed, it all goes on

They'll keep laughin' till the end

This perfect day

What more to say

Don't need no one to tell me what I already know

"This Perfect Day" (The Saints)

<i.>

My mouth gets me in trouble sometimes. I'm thinking of a verbal donneybrook that I got into during the 2008 recession, with a friend of Squawker's. They not friendly anymore, but that's another story for another day. 

I didn't get along with this particular gal, either. When she wasn't constantly lecturing me about this, that, and the other -- mostly, how I looked, or I didn't choose H2O as my favorite tipple -- she never stopped pontificating about whatever issue of the day crossed her mind. I'll call her Austere Annie.

I don't remember anymore how we got onto this particular topic, but somehow, the old "they-could-get-a-job-if-they-wanted-it" chestnut wandered into our kitchen table discussion, like that drunk boyfriend who's willed himself off the couch. "Well, Annie, I don't know," I said. "All I can say is, how many 50-plus-year-olds are they hiring lately?"

"Look at what I do, though," Annie argued. "I work at the cleaner, I walk all these dogs, I'm not just sitting around."

"Neither am I, exactly." My eyes roamed toward the ceiling. Lord oh lord, how do I get out of this one? "But I have a better idea. Why not just join the underground economy? More opportunities to move up, better pay, get to travel, meet interesting people, pick your own hours..."

Annie widened her eyes in horror. "How can you say that? There's plenty of opportunities out there that don't involve doing something..."

"C'mon, Annie," I shrugged. "It's a joke. Actually, Woody Allen says something similar in 'Take The Money And Run.' I got a million of 'em, if you want."

Now hold that thought. We'll circle back to it soon enough.

<"Hey Bossman (Takes I-III)..."
The Reckoner>

Ain't nobody tells me what to do now

I've heard all the lies and been promised the world

No businessman is gonna use or confuse me

'Cause I ain't no puppet for his capital gain

And what do you get but exploitation

From creeps who are gonna ignore your situation?

Too many people gettin' pushed around
Gonna end up down the lost and found

"Lost & Found" (The Saints)

<ii.>

Released in May 1978, the Saints' second album, Eternally Yours, maintained the energy of their classic debut, (I'm) Stranded (1977), while adding subtle touches (notably, horns, harmonica, a dab of organ via drummer Ivor Hay) that hinted at more adventurous musical explorations down the road, as did moody, acoustic slow burners like "Untitled," and "A Minor Aversion," whose lyrics about love gone sour ("Don't you know that this thing can't last/And don't you know this time will pass/These dreams are not your own anymore"), might well apply to a certain, ah, occupant at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Of course, there were plenty of fast burners to keep the faithful happy, such as "Run Down," the cheeky twin pairing of "Know Your Product," and "No, Your Product," plus the two I've chosen to quote here, "This Perfect Day" -- an honest to goodness Top 40 single, the band's only one -- and "Lost & Found," which aptly sum up the prevailing mood, as the body count from COVID-19 continues to pile up. How do Trump, his henchmen and all their faithful red state allies respond, you might ask? Hence, the title of this post:

"Pandemic, Shmandemic! 

"Get Your Ass Back To Work!"

As states rush to reopen their so-called economies -- the same ones that COVID-19 devastated, in case we forgot -- check out the scam they're pulling in Iowa, where its Workforce Development gremlins have just announced that refusing to return to work will be deemed a "voluntary quit," even fear of infection is the reason. Say goodbye to any current or future state benefits, plus those $600 per week federal benefits.

Or, as IWD Director Beth Townsend helpfully explains in the state's press release: "For Iowans whose employment may be permanently affected by the outbreak, we have many training opportunities under Future Ready Iowa to help them obtain training and begin a new career in a high-demand, high-paying job."

Similar maneuvers are underway in Texas, which officially reopened May 1, and Oklahoma, as Robert Reich reports in his own column, where he quotes the latter state's jobless czar along these lines: "If the employer will contact us...we will cut off their benefits."

Oh, and in case anyone missed the punchline, Senator Lindsey Graham (R-SC) said Wednesday, at a state panel about his own state's rush to reopen: "I promise you, over our dead bodies will this ($600 federal jobless benefits) get reauthorized. We've got to stop this. You cannot turn on the economy until you get this aberration of the law fixed."

Nice guys, eh? So much for "unemployment compensation on steroids," as Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer called it, when Congress passed the measure.

<iii.>

Of course, those steroids -- unemployment-related, or not -- only work if you get your hands on them. My own experiences with Michigan's system mirror a lot of the frustration brewing out there. At various times, I got locked out of my account, knocked off the phone, or frozen from proceeding with my claim until I entered my life's various mundane details, like my address, as the system preferred. It took a fair bit of research to sort out all these points.

Things took a truly surreal turn on Tuesday, when two pieces of mail arrived -- one, to tell me that I'd no longer get those "Go Green" alerts in my e-mail, the other, requesting more information, even though its website allowed me to file for the minimal level of benefits ($160 per week), without having to provide any.

Got all that? Dealing with public agencies often reminds me of the party scene from Alice In Wonderland: "Have some tea. There isn't any."

For millions of Americans, however, the ante is about to crank up in the most unforgiving way imaginable. Pandemic be damned, promises of support be damned, public sentiment be damned. Get your asses back to work, because the people who've been taking us all for a ride need you back at the hamster wheel. You can keep running in place, as you've done all along, by whatever name you call it -- adjunct, contract, temporary, work for hire, take your pick. It's all the same, and it's all contaminated by association.

If this is really is the "new normal" we're going to resume, count me out. That smells like the same normal that stopped working for so many of us so long ago.

Then again, it's not really about you, is it? The Orange Monster in the White House is so desperate to claw back his way to re-election, that he's willing to roll the dice, with millions of reluctant workers, essential or not, as his unwilling human shields. That's all it's about, really.

Or, as Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez recently told VICE News -- only in America, when the President talks about liberation, "does it mean, 'Get back to work.'"

<iv.>

Looking back on my verbal brawl with Austere Annie, I find that this calamity strikingly resembles the 2008 economic meltdown, only with the "corporations are people, too" concept taken to its most absurd extreme. We're talking about unemployment rates not seen since the Great Depression (20 percent, with 30.3 million unemployment claimants), even as corporate interests hoovered up $1.1 billion of the $2.2 million earmarked for small business relief through the Paycheck Protection Program.

The PPP fund is another great example of the Orwellian misnaming that often accompanies these ventures, just like the Oklahoma official threatening to cut off benefits happens to head the --  wait for it -- Oklahoma Employment Security Commission. I guess he meant his job security, right? Honestly, it's all too whacked out for words.

All the more galling, when you consider that people are still expected to conjure money out of thin air to make their weekly and/or monthly nut, even as the empty suits set about steering money to themselves and their buddies. As the Huffington Post story notes, the corporations that seriously dented the PPP fund got forgivable loans. That sounds like Uncle Sam doesn't expect to see that money back, right?

What relief can the average person expect, once they know they can't pay their rent? At most, a payment plan, or a deferred payment -- meaning, a promise to make good on whatever they owe at some point in the future. Same goes for student loans, or whatever debt you care to name. At best, you'll get a few months' timeout from having to pay them when you're in the nursing home. Some relief.

I'm reminded of a county commission meeting in my reporting days, where the chairman interrupted a colleague hectoring him about some obscure feature of the annual budget. He posed a rhetorical question: "What is a budget, exactly? A plan for spending. That's all. We make statements about where we're going to spend our money, and what we're spending it on."

With COVID-19, we're doing likewise. We're making statements, all right, but they just happen to be in all the wrong places. --The Reckoner

And what do you get but exploitation

From creeps who are gonna ignore your situation?

<Eternally Yours (1978)
Back Cover, US LP>

Links To Go (Hurry, So The Oligarchy
Can Herd You Back At Your Desk):

Common Dreams
Only In Trump's America:
https://www.commondreams.org/news/2020/04/29/only-trumps-america-despite-covid-19-employees-texas-and-iowa-told-get-back-work-or

The Guardian
Donald Trump's Four-Step Plan:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/may/03/donald-trump-reopen-us-economy-lethal-robert-reich

The Huffington Post
Congress Will Extend Unemployment Boost
Over "Our Dead Bodies":
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/lindsey-graham-dead-bodies-unemployment-benefits_n_5eadf270c5b659c79250384e