Not a Wonderful Morning At All; Facebook Predators;The Return of a Catfish; Coming Out of the Woodwork; How Do I Love Thee; A Declaration of Love

This has not been a wonderful morning at all. For the first time I lost a document, a blog that was almost written. So I shall have to use my fine mind to do it over again as I do not know how to retrieve it and Apple Is not being helpful, at all, at all, at all.

So I began by pondering what needs to be done with the this continued useless Shut Down, now until May, I did suggest insurrection, but that has not taken place. CPI (Couch Potato Introvert) remarked.:
She: Insurrection is not for introverts
Me; That is so funny! But not for this extrovert either, other things to be doing, like writing the book on Uncle Dave.
But then, being a lawyer in the past, I thought of another idea. I retired as a lawyer fifteen years ago and back then did not practice in the Federal Court, but there is a constitutional right to Free Association. These ineffective, delaying tactic Shut Downs prohibit my constitutional right to Free Association. It seem that Trump could bring an action claiming the denial of the right, the evidence supporting the injunctive action would be the studies showing that this shit down is totally ineffective and only delays the spread because it is too late. It has spread throughout the world and cannot be contained. But will Trump do this? The answer is no. I doubt that he is reading this blog and even if he did he would not follow the advice of an intelligent, knowledgable person – never has, never will. Another idea might be to have, for example, the San Francisco Restaurant Owners Association being an injunctive relief action alleging inference with contractual rights, using scientific evidence that this is no need for quarantine. But I am not practicing and in many ways: Alexis, this is not your problem.

But I was right about another thing. I said that catfish would be coming out of the woodwork, and I was right, “Emerging from obscurity or a place of seclusion. It often is put as come (or crawl) out of the woodwork, as in The candidates for this job were coming out of the woodwork. The expression alludes to insects crawling out of the interior wooden fittings of a house, such as baseboards and moldings.””Comes from the tendency of vermin, especially cockroaches, that seem to emerge from the woodwork (wooden kitchen cabinets, baseboards along the floor, etc.) where they nest when, for example, a light is turned on. Example: After Ryan won the lottery, he had a lot of new friends coming out of the woodwork.

So this is what happened this morning. I am inundated with guys asking me to be friends on Facebook. I think even about fifty – clogging up myInbox. Many have names like Sultan, Prince and Royal – and believe me, I have had enough Sultans, Princes and Royals to last a lifetime. So I am busy deleting them from Inbox. I did respond to one, an Arabic one- he asked me to like a page and as I didn’t, I didn’t. These are obviously potential catfish and for some reason I am being seen as prey. Nipping it in the bud.
But then there was an email from a catfish of old, Crouch Pelzer:
HeL Hi Sweetheart How are you doing?
Hope you are not bored baby?
I want you to know that i never meant those words I said to you , they were just said out of anger.
Ever since the COVID-19 pandemic, have been scared for you. I want you to Stay safe and be good okay . I want you to forgive and forget about what happened between us , it was just misunderstanding . When this pandemic is over , promise to come straight to your house to make you happy. I miss you so much . I LOVE YOU SO MUCH .ALEXIS Me: I am perfectly fine. If you read my blog you would know this There is no reason to worry about me as I have been self isolating – not that one has much choice in this day and age. I am not bored but using this time to finish a biography of my uncle, Do not come rushing to my side as this is no time to start a relationship I would not see you, The only way a relationship would be possible at this time is if you both had antibodies. I am happy, do not need anyone to make me happy, you coming here would make me unhappy. Oh, and by the way, the only way you get antibodies is if you had the disease.
That is so typical catfish: he has never met me, says he loves me and wants to make me happy. He is out trolling looking for hooks but has to use old ones as the new ones must not be coming around. By the way, it was me that that severed the relationship and then blocked him from Instagram. Responding with an resounding NO is the best idea as catfish apparently share the names of their prey.

But on the topic of love, I am declaring publicly that I am in love with David Remnick. How Do I Love You, Let Me Count the Ways, Sonnet 43 written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Who is this man, this David Remnick and why do I love him? He is the editor of The New Yorker, He is brilliant, informed and an excellent writer. His most recent masterpiece, entitled:
New York City in the CoronaVirus Pandemic, it begins:

The streets of New York City are so desolate now that you half expect tumbleweed to blow along the pavement where cars and cabs once clustered. There is barely a plane in the sky. You hear the wheeze of an empty bus rounding a corner, the flutter of pigeons on a fire escape, the wail of an ambulance. The sirens are unnervingly frequent. But even on these sunny, early-spring days there are few people in sight. For weeks, as the distancing rules of the pandemic took hold, a gifted saxophone player who stakes his corner outside a dress shop on Broadway every morning was still there, playing “My Favorite Things” and “All the Things You Are.” Now he is gone, too

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