Should last Thursday's avalanche of the mindless happen in December, with n% of Critical Workers (re power plants? meds?
food--harvesting or delivery? ____? hors de combat:

Maybe it's not too early to stock-up and prepare for every family-unit being On Their Own 'indefinitely', our mantra in all things since '17 with 45..
The Lemmings are in the lead and Nobody Has a near-enough factual listicle of the coming Unknowns, as in the word, 'unprecedented'.

---

While my situation is more isolated and (unfindable) than that of a large majority, am in Year of the Jackpot mode--wherein Potiphar Breen and his recent associate
..move on Out --> he in anticipation of a possible "G-star" ever going Nova--but hiding this matter from friend .
(All that: bereft of any presence of a tunesmith penning, "We Will All Go Together" [fanfare]

Theme, then: CAN?? 'Muricans smarten-up just-enough to make the entire next Scene not look like the most un- believable slapstick, ever?

(Meanwhile: the cute-as-a-bug's ear grey fox manages to beat the raccoons to his decent chow, sometimes
--pity he's too shy to come, trip motion sensor and then I deliver: which shyness keeps him alive in this animal-
unconcerned desert I inhabit, so like the larger 'Murica).

aka: SAVE an unconcerned-neighbor's dog left outsie (?) via a cheap shelter box--when you see it's cold enough to kill him/her, eh?
Makes endorphins--I can attest.