Skip to main content

An Open Letter from Covid to POTUS

  

Dear Donald,

I just want to thank you. This has been the best year a young virus could have wished for. And it’s all because of you.

You believed in me. Even back in the Wuhan days, when the death toll was climbing exponentially, you couldn’t hide your admiration. You told Bob Woodward I was one badass virus, high praise coming from you.

But looking back, I think what you really admired was the death toll. That, and the marketing challenge. It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

I fully expected you to stop me, or at least slow me down. Instead, you started doing me favors. Little things at first. Discouraging social distance. Making fun of masks. Hawking quack remedies.

It was sweet of you to force open the meat-packing plants, but really, you shouldn’t have. I was doing fine without that, but you were proactive about it — you went out of your way to make it easy for me to meet people.

What was that about? Were you bored with golf and grifting? Were you hungry for a new challenge? Or were you looking for ways to monetize me? To bring me into the business? To make me part of the Trump brand?

Whatever you were thinking, nobody has ever treated a pathogen this cordially. You undermined your own disease guys, just for me. You mocked Dr. Fauci when he tried to pull that science stuff on you. You shut out the CDC when they dared to imply they knew more about epidemiology than you.

They just didn’t get it, did they? They refused to understand the marketing implications of a target audience of 350 million Americans, all of them logical prospects for my product.

And you were thinking product tie-ins all along, weren’t you? Palliatives, vaccines, fake cures, disinfectants, masks, ventilators, PPE, sanitizers, Plexiglas, bodybags — all the hot-sellers you’d expect from a global pandemic. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that, right Donald?

But those scientists just wouldn’t get on board. They wanted to control the disease. They wanted to cut me off just as I was hitting my stride. Did they not know what that would do to the ratings?

You always saw the big picture. You always knew that customer ignorance was key to the success of my brand. And I couldn’t have found a better pitchman to make that case.

You were amazing. That you could actually spread so much misinformation so quickly, through such a huge population, was the marketing coup of the century. Even I was impressed — and I do viral for a living.

It was especially clever downplaying me. It was a superb head fake, the perfect message to your cult followers. It told them it was safe to come out. They could take the kids to school. They could get a few thousand bikers together to share viral loads. They could all party like it’s 2019.

Marketers call these people "low-hanging fruit." I’m picking some off the tree as we speak.

Then there were the rallies, those big beautiful mask-free rallies, where you introduced me to all kinds of interesting people. Herman Cain was my favorite.

And things are still moving along. At this point, Donald, you’ve become such a disease vector yourself, my opportunities are virtually limitless.

I’ve been out there most of a year, I’ve toured most of the world, and there’s no question which countries give me the most trouble. They’re all social democracies, more or less. They all have leaders who know how to get stuff done and aren’t looking for a fast buck. They all have populations that trust those leaders to have their back. It’s hard for me to get traction in places like that.

But I make up for it with the autocrats. If a dictator’s running things — or even a dictator wannabe — I know that country is hot to trot.

Bolsonaro in Brazil, Modi in India, Putin in Russia — these guys are numbers two, three, and four on my scorecard. They have each been more than friendly to my brand.

But first prize goes to you, Donald. Most cases. Most hospitalizations. Most deaths. You are the undisputed champion of my world.

You’ve single-handedly made Covid great again. I’m now looking forward to a fabulous winter, filled with unmasked people in tight indoor spaces with iffy ventilation — all singing at the top of their lungs. It’ll be my best season ever.

And I owe it all to you, Donald. It’s been a relationship I will always cherish, no matter how it ends. Every day it seems I’m getting to know you better, and I feel now that we’re closer than ever. It’s almost like I’m living inside you.

Forever yours,

Covid XIX

 

Comments

  1. Perfect combination of snark, humor and outrage. Good one, Andy.

    ReplyDelete
  2. So, the diabolical plan is to keep Donald alive 😩.

    ReplyDelete
  3. LOL. Nice work AE.
    Favorite sentence: "Even I was impressed — and I do viral for a living."

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Three Perfect Examples of Both-Siderism You Might’ve Missed

Let’s take a trip down memory lane, all the way back to three weeks ago. I know, it seems like at least half a year, but the invasion of the Capitol on January 6 has still not been fully absorbed. So let me direct your attention to a 60 Minutes segment from the Sunday immediately following that very dark Wednesday. Leslie Stahl did a thirteen-minute interview with Nancy Pelosi about the events of that day. Roughly twelve minutes was spent on a tour of the ransacked House chamber, with Pelosi recreating the scene — her office invaded, her computer stolen, her staff under the table for two hours in the dark. And that idiot with his feet on her desk. This is common knowledge now, but it was still a blur that Sunday. The razor in the apple came just before the ten-minute mark in the clip. Now sitting across from Pelosi, discussing the road forward, Stahl made the outrageously disingenuous claim that “You are not known as a person who compromises.” Which Pelosi was having none of

Coup d’Etat for Dummies

As coups go, this was pathetic. The mob acted on Trump’s orders, as if there were some sort of plan. Given that “Trump” and “plan” should never appear in the same sentence, what were they thinking? Suppose they actually did stop the certification of the electors. Then what? Did they think this would magically give Trump a second term? Or make him president for life? Or that they could shoot Nancy Pelosi, hang Mike Pence, strafe the floor of Congress with AR-15s, then go out and party? What was the fantasy? It’s an important question, because several thousand of these morons assembled, on Trump’s whim, to act out that fantasy. Maybe they thought Trump would reward them. Give them medals, or at least pardons. If so, they haven’t paid much attention for the last four years. Loyalty is something Trump leeches from others. He never, ever returns it. It’s a quid with no chance of a pro quo . Trump stiffs everybody. A bunch of these morons are now looking at multi-year prison ter

Alexei Navalny is a Whole Other Kind of Tough

What are we to make of Alexei Navalny? What are we to think of someone who makes himself a willing martyr to an impossible cause? How do we get our brains around this strange amalgam of Gandhi, Muhammad Ali, and Joan of Arc? First, he gets poisoned with a deadly nerve agent, ordered by Putin, the world’s most dangerous man. He wakes up from a coma in Germany. He recovers in a mere six months, though it’s unclear to what extent he’s still affected. Then, as long as he’s in Germany, he might as well go rummaging through Putin’s carefully crafted past. He makes a video exploding the myth of Putin the super-spy — the one where Putin intrepidly defends Russia from his Cold War post in East Germany. Navalny replaces that myth with the reality of Putin’s real job at that time — a petty bureaucrat in the minor leagues of the KGB. But that’s just the beginning. The same video goes on to expose — with stunning drone footage — what is surely the most corrupt piece of real estate on the p