I feel Andrew Ferguson’s pleasure. Life has changed very little for me, other than having Patricia home every day, instead of just weekends (which was going to happen anyway, with her retirement).
Unlike him, though, I do have to confess to enjoying hugs from attractive women.
We went for a drive on Saturday into Manhattan Beach, where the beach (like all LA County beaches) was closed. It was a ghost town, with just a few people walking around, and we could have parked almost anywhere. The most surreal thing was to see The Kettle closed. That restaurant has been 24/7 for decades. They’re not even doing takeout, just shuttered.
I think that this is probably the most significant European event since the end of the war. The project, and the conceit of globalism in general, is coming apart at the seams.
Set aside, for the moment, any reservations you might have about the coronavirus-emergency regime, and set aside your views on climate change, too, whatever they may be. Instead, ask yourself this: If Americans are this resistant to paying a large economic price to enable measures meant to prevent a public-health catastrophe in the here and now — one that threatens the lives of people they know and love — then how much less likely are they to bear not weeks or months but decades of disruption and economic dislocation and a permanently diminished standard of living in order to prevent possibly severe consequences to people in Bangladesh or Indonesia 80 or 100 years from now?
My sense is that to the degree that they have different accents, it’s class based, not regional. That is, most of the people I meet are probably upper middle, whereas someone Rugby Union might speak strine so thick that it would be almost unintelligible to me.