It is March 18th, 2020. It’s around the middle of the day for most people in the United States. You are alone.

So what, right? You’re always alone anyway. The only difference between being alone last March 18th is that no one (rightfully) called you a hero for it. A year ago today, if you told someone that you had spent the last two weeks doing nothing but binge playing Destiny 2, eating microwaved Indian food, and contemplating the fleeting experience of human consciousness, they probably would have called a therapist, or like, the fucking cops or something. That isn’t shit normal people think about or do, and nor should it be. A year ago, five years ago, ten years ago, you were alone and you were sad. You’re alone now, today, March 18th, 2020 – if you are lucky enough to be.

You are alone because you should be. It would honestly be pretty goddamn irresponsible of you to not be alone. You’ve heard what they’re saying about all this virus stuff, right? I just got off the robek.world dedicated secret roblox game map conference call talking with Joe Biden about this whole situation. It’s wild, man. This is some real shit. This can and will rip your fucking dick off. For you, in your hubris, in your seemingly endless lack of sense, to go gallivanting around town in times like these, it’s basically just fucking sociopathic. If you want to kill people, buy a gun or become an economist. You know, like a regular person.

I’ve been watching a lot of that show Chopped recently. You know, that show where people go on TV and cook things? Yeah, I didn’t realize shows like that exist either. I hope that there’s never a point in time where shows like that completely over-saturate the market. It would really suck for such a cool novelty to become another part of the day-to-day chore of waking up. Anyway, I’ve been watching Chopped because there are no sports on, and I’m not quite entirely ready to admit to myself that my sudden and new-found interest in marble racing is anything more than ironic.

You wanna know what’s fucked up about Chopped? No? Too bad. I’m telling you.

The ice cream machine is always broken.

Every single time that someone makes it to the dessert round, there will be one absolute idiot who gets it into their head that maybe, just maybe, this will be the first time ever in recorded human history where the ice cream machine will work. Haven’t any of these dipshits ever been to a McDonald’s? And for the ivory tower Harvard types who don’t think McDonald’s is worthy of their highly-refined cooking show contestant palate, don’t these people watch the show first so they know what to expect? The ice cream machine is fucking broken. You can hope, you can wish, you can pray, you can be as starry eyed and stupid as you want, but no matter what, the ice cream machine WILL be broken. Fuck that death and taxes bullshit. I’m spending my Trumpbux on McFlurries when the chips are down.

It’s March 18th, 2020. The world is experiencing an unprecedented event. A possible catalyst for change, both unequivocally good and impossibly evil. You are alone. You are alone because you understand something that maybe some people haven’t quite caught on to yet. You are alone in the world, and you are without a functioning ice cream machine. You are alone with your hopes, and dreams. You are just as alone as Stone Cold Steve Austin was on March 16th, just two days ago, when he stood in the middle of an empty arena, and asked the non-existent crowd to give him a Hell Yeah. Just as he was meet with roaring, deafening silence, you so shall be too.

This isn’t a bad thing, actually. Well, I mean, it is. It’s pretty fucking bad, dude. The point here though is that some self-reflection time is never a bad thing – until it is. You can learn a language! You can catch up on all of video game backlogs! You can lose upwards of $70 dollars in a two day span making irresponsible bets on political elections! You can watch Hidden Cup 3, the most important Age of Empires 2 tournament in years. You can laugh it up as NBA stars try to figure out what to do with downtime they haven’t had since they were in middle school. You can watch classic games played back on ESPN+. You can share your memories of sports heroes of past and present. You can bond with a global society, all while you are alone.

You are alone. Spring training is cancelled. Hell, all sports are cancelled, except for UFC 249, somehow, which at this rate will end up taking place from Antarctica. The difference between every other sport and Baseball is that there’s actually a chance baseball will happen at some point. In your self isolation, that’s something you can look forward to, if you like baseball. If you view this as a time to grow, to think about hope, to think about dreams, to believe in miracles, you can be alone with happy thoughts about pennants and championships and kinship and love.

Unless you’re a Mets fan. We’re going to fucking suck this year. The ice cream machine of baseball. The inevitable. The universal truth that bonds children of the Earth. God bless ’em, though. Love the freakin’ Mets, baby, and give me a Hell Yeah.

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