Hey 3.5 readers.
Your old pal BQB here, hunkering down in BQB HQ as we ride out the coronavirus pandemic. Don’t worry about me. I’m fit as a fiddle. COUGH COUGH! Whoa? Is that phlegm or a Jackson Pollock painting?
Anyway. Fun fact about the social media age. Literally, everyone is an epidemiologist know, and everyone has an opinion they want to share, immediately, directly to you, right away.
Worse, every company I have ever given my e-mail address to wants to tell me what they are doing about the coronavirus. In case you haven’t received these missives, allow me to summarize:
- My preferred pizza parlor wants me to know that if I so desire, I can choose the “no contact delivery” option while placing my order, and the driver will set the pizza down on my stoop, ring the doorbell, and then run away, really fast, with his arms flailing about, to and fro as he screams about how we are all doomed and the end times are here. For five dollars more, I can get the super extra no contact delivery, which means the driver will slow down to 30 mph and throw the pizza out his window, allowing it to splatter all over my front door. I tried this once and found the pizza box on my front lawn, while the pepperoni ended up on the grass and the cheese was in my neighbor’s rose bush. Not the best way to eat a pie, but the good news is, I am coronavirus free.
- My local car dealership wants me to know that if I want to test drive a new car, I can do it online. They have some type of app where I can virtually drive the new car off the lot, virtually wince as the sticker value decreases by half, virtually get cut off in traffic, and virtually get honked at when the light turns green and I wait one fraction of a second to hit the virtual gas because the honker, as you know, is a very important person and needs to get where he is going right away. He is probably on his way to a meeting where he will announce his invention of a device that will cure global warming and not just some ass hat on his way to buy a bag of Fritos and a gallon of Mr. Pibb. Oh, and if I need any service done on my car, I can choose the no contact service option. That’s right. I can just point the car at the dealership parking lot, slow down to like 10 mph and jump out at the last minute before the car rams into a brick wall and sure, the car will need major body work after that buy hey, there was no contact…with other humans.
- My favorite big box store emailed to let me know they have spritz down everything in the store with sanitary goo, as opposed to the years and years where this goo was not applied and I was allowed to shop in what essentially was a steaming cauldron of airborne fecal matter. Also, they are working overtime to make sure that additional rainforests are being chopped down so that all the nervous nellies out there can fill their basements with toilet paper, because, God fordbid the apocalypse comes and you might have to wipe your ass with a leaf or a newspaper or a magazine or your neighbor’s cat or something.
- My movie theater wants me to know that they are selling only half the seats because they don’t want it on their conscience if anyone catches the coronavirus while watching such masterpiece works like “Brahms: The Boy Part 2” or that Fantasy Island reboot where someone thought it would be a good idea to bring a lighthearted 70s romp into a horror movie. It’s probably due to the coronavirus and not because everyone was already at home watching Netflix anyway.
- My florist will also offer a no contact delivery option. If I want to cheer up the special lady in my life, they’ll be happy to fill a cannon full of daffodils and shoot it at her front door.
- Finally, my psychotherapist emailed to tell me the joke’s on him, for all these years, it turns out I was right about social distancing, and everyone was so very, very wrong.
Have you received any fun coronavirus emails from your favorite places of business, 3.5 readers? Feel free to share in the comments.
Bookshelf Battle 