The Elephant Virus In The Living Room

So.
What shall we talk about today?
In a flurry that took hardened cynic, yours truly, off guard things shifted mightily over the past few days. The news of the National Basketball Association closing up shop came fast on the heels of the alert that told us that Tom Hanks and his wife had tested positive for the dread disease. The one we call Coronavirus. Or Novel Coronavirus. Or COVID-19. But we don't call it Captain Trips. The author has requested that we leave his intellectual property in the fiction realm.
What isn't fiction anymore is the domino effect of response. After the NBA announced it was shutting down, the college basketball tournament realized that it would be, in fact, March Madness to gather all those kids and their fans across the country to tempt fate. And the virus that shall not be named. Then they closed Disneyland.
That broke my heart.
But the thought of all those thousands upon thousands of Mouskateers dropping their infected churro waste and clinging desperately to the safety bars in Space Mountain suddenly became too much for even the happiest place on earth to bear. Where can we go to escape the coughing and fear?
Baseball pulled the plug on their spring training. The Major Leagues went dark, leaving us with slim to none in the spectator sports realm. Even the National Hockey League figured it should follow suit, perhaps because germs last longer on ice. Or something like that.
Meanwhile, we can all keep track of the various and sundry ways that misinformation can spread as we stand in line to discover that the toilet paper is gone. Which makes me wonder who is wrapping themselves in toilet paper to keep themselves free of contagion. I find myself obsessed with the concern for touching my own face, realizing that I am constantly touching my own face and try as I might I cannot stop touching my own face.
And all the while I keep wondering when the guys in hazmat suits will show up with tarps and biological hazard tape to enclose me in whatever building I happen to find myself when the really bad stuff goes down.
How 'bout those Mets?
Oh. Yeah.