Please Advise! My Curve Is Not Flattening!

[Editor’s note: Steve Burgess is an accredited spin doctor with a PhD in Centrifugal Rhetoric from the University of SASE, situated on the lovely campus of PO Box 7650, Cayman Islands. In this space he dispenses PR advice to the rich and famous, the troubled and well-heeled, the wealthy and gullible.]

Dear Dr. Steve,

My health regimen is suffering in social isolation. Then I thought of you, who does such important work, tirelessly spinning, ass-covering and smearing on the political frontlines. I'm worried about you. How are you doing at this difficult time?

Signed,

Concerned

Dear Concerned,

Bless you for checking in. It is indeed a struggle to keep the wizard act going from my spot here behind the curtain. But every day Dr. Steve counts his blessings and says, “At least I'm not a sportswriter.”

There are two types of self-isolators — the type whose living space gets cleaner every day, and the rest of us. Dr. Steve's favourite isolation game is “Did I Leave Those Wednesday Leftovers in the Fridge Too Long?" Hours of post-dinner suspense.

Motivation can be tough to maintain. Dr. Steve has been getting LinkedIn messages reading “Congratulate Kathy for putting on antiperspirant!” Damn keeners.

As for Dr. Steve himself, let's just say his curve is not flattening. Opportunities for exercise are few. In fact every trip to the grocery store suggests a lot of people aren't even exercising proper judgement.

Many shoppers behave well. But others seem to be like kids who brush their teeth only because Mom tells them to. Once they get away from security staff and the marked standing spots outside the store they completely forget the point of it all, blithely ambling about like bipedal pathogens. No one ever thought the skills acquired through years of playing Pac-Man would ever have wider application. Then came 2020, and here we are dashing down narrow corridors snapping up sustenance, pursued by deadly ghosts.

There are of course one-way lines marked on the floors of grocery store aisles but those seem to be understood by approximately .087 per cent of shoppers. Once you reach the Safeway checkout counter you will find they are no longer selling lottery tickets. Apparently they're redundant now that we are all playing the national lottery.

Meanwhile the great outdoors has turned into one big game of invisible dodgeball. Plus you always have to keep looking around in case of an unexpected attack by Mike Pence. Round-the-clock vigilance is necessary — Pence is just the sort of Christian who's likely to show up at your front door eager to spread the, ummm, good news.

The vice-president's example notwithstanding, it's important to wear a mask. For instance, what if you start spitting blood after drinking Lysol? But of course President Trump was only being sarcastic when he talked about injecting disinfectant. Just like on Dec. 7, 1941 when FDR said, “We surrender!” and then the next day, “Hey, that was a joke that will live in infamy!”

Best to avoid the daily briefings and the random strangers. Lock the door and binge-watch Russian Doll. It's the perfect self-isolation series — the same day over and over again and it always starts back at the sink with the water running. Talk about prophetic: the secret message of that show is really, “Wash your hands or else.”

The world of entertainment may yet hold the key to a safe and healthy future. Oscar-winner Tom Hanks could become Nobel Prize-winning Tom Hanks if, as news reports suggest, his blood proves useful. (Hanks has expressed willingness to donate his magical blood, but perhaps he fails to understand the situation. The world is full of desperate people. We will need all the blood, Tom. All the precious blood.)

Maybe watching Toy Story or Big will be enough to confer immunity. If you live in Texas you might be able to do that in a theatre since the state's governor, Forrest Gump, is allowing them to open. Dr. Steve recommends you attend only if the theatre is showing Cats. You'll need the space.

As a physician, of course Dr. Steve is also involved in the search for a cure. Here's an idea: You could practice internal acupuncture by swallowing a live porcupine. (Please congratulate Dr. Steve on his use of sarcasm.) Many other top fantasy doctors and researchers are in secret laboratories even as we speak — Bruce Banner, Dr. Strange, Reed Richards. Their solutions: something something gamma rays. Or a handful of irritable black widows, a chunk of uranium-235, and listen, bud — you've got radioactive blood. Anyway, this is probably all Batman's fault. If you have recently been rescued by the Caped Crusader, wash your hands thoroughly.

For those of us whiling away the days at home, the highlight comes at 7 p.m. — the nightly salute to health-care workers. As Dr. Steve picks up his steel-bottomed wok pan and potato masher to give them a final polish, his memory is drawn back to those happy days at Juilliard where he honed his skills. Yet even this communal act of solidarity can cause trouble. Bang a bunch of pots and pans at 7 p.m. and people are very supportive. But just try to get in an hour of practice in the morning and suddenly the neighbours get all upset.

We're getting through this. Hang in there. Remember there are more important things than, for instance, the NHL playoffs. Dr. Steve would hate it if the National Hockey League were to do something irresponsible. Hate it. He will of course be watching carefully, just in case. He was making this popcorn anyway.