A Good Friday. Like No Other.

Dispatches From Dystopia

Here it is, Good Friday. If you told me at Christmas churches would be closed as a precaution against a lethal virus once confined to the Chinese horseshoe bat, I would not have believed you. That my son and a dear friend would contract the virus and recover, while thirtyeight people in a nursing home a half mile from my home would die, I would again have been incredulous.

Words and phrases we have become used to hearing, propaganda, spincontrol, scapegoating, fill our language. So much over which we have no control, but other things we can hold in our grasp, like my daily power walk. I walk six miles straight. The calorie burn is estimated at around 440 calories.I can control what I eat, much as I like to deny that. I will always be a slave to my appetites. I do this little walk…

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