COVID the musical

My close personal friend and RoundSeventeen raconteur Rich Siegel is currently on the uphill side of his first case of covid. He writes about it here.

Which got me thinking (eventually something had to), now that the world has emerged, relatively, from the wrath of covids' heyday, it’s time to look at what we’ve been through in a different light. Many articles have been written about the pandemic, and with each new variant that rears its ugly head, every winter surge and every new booster shot comes an entirely new crop of articles.

I wanted to take a different approach. Instead of dry, medical journal ramblings, I feel the world is finally in a good place, done blowing their nose and ready to tap their toes. So, with that in mind, I’m happy to announce rehearsals will be starting soon for Broadway’s next theater event of the season: Covid Tonight!

You’re in your seat, the houselights go down, the curtain comes up. Spotlights hit the stage as singers belt out the opening number.

Did you hear? Did you hear? It’s getting very near.
Before you can say “vaccination” it’ll already be here
Did you hear? Did you hear? There’s nothing to really fear
The president said it’ll just go away, it’ll just disappear!

Well, we all know how Cadet Bone Spurs prediction worked out. But I digress. Like any great show about a deadly disease, Covid Tonight! will have something for everyone. There’ll be a lot of show-stopping numbers as we travel back down covid memory lane. Like this slow, poignant number speaking to the cure that was in front of us all along.

It’s the guest no one wants, it’s the gift to be returned
It’s the illness that haunts, it’s a cause for great concern
And if you can’t escape it, and at the door it knocks
The cure is already in your laundry room, in a bottle called Clorox

Ah, the good old days when IQ45 told us all we needed to do was pump some bleach into our veins to kill the covid virus. If only he'd taken the lead and shown us how.

As all shows do, the curtain must fall on Covid Tonight! Will it end on a happy note? A caustic warning? An optimistic view of the viral future?

Now the virus has seemingly run its course, at least its that way for now
And Pfizer and Moderna have turned it into a cash cow
We're happy that it's rarer these day, in fact let's raise a cup
But before we celebrate too much let's remember to mask up.

T-shirts, hats and soundtrack CDs are available in the lobby.

T'was the night before Christmas: 2021 Edition

It's been a couple years since I put up this post on Christmas Eve, and honestly I debated whether or not to do it at all this year.

However it is the season of giving, and damn it, if we know anything about me we know I'm a giver.

As you may have noticed, this year has been somewhat different than years past. But despite covid, my virus paranoia and my obsessive hand-washing, I actually do look forward to the coming year with uncharacteristic hope and optimism.

Plus I look fabulous in a mask, so there’s that.

So for the holidays, this year more than ever, give those you love the present that will mean the most. Hug them tight, and make sure they know how much they're loved.

Please enjoy this little diddy, revised for the times we find ourselves in.

I wish the very merriest Christmas to each and every one of you and yours. And a healthy, happy new year to us all.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all ‘round the world

A sense of great unease had spun and had swirled

The covid tests hung by the fireplace with care

In hopes a vaxxed Santa soon would be there

Families nestled with thoughts of spiked virus balls in their head

And visions of immunity and slowing the spread

They’d talk of frustration with shut downs and such

And the fact last year they hadn’t gone out very much

When out in the living room there rose such a clatter

I stopped rapid testing to see what was the matter

The door had been locked, did somebody hack it

What could possibly be making all of that racket

With a little old driver, so lively and quick

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!

We’ve had our boosters and the vaccine’s kicked in

We’re masked and we’re ready to spread Christmas joy

All ‘round the world tonight, to every girl and boy

This year we’re over the naughty and nice list

We’re going to all the children’s homes that exist

Parents are weary and children are tired

Of figuring out where and how and what is required

But we’re all in this together if we just hang on tight

And get over ourselves and keep doing what’s right

It can be beat, it really can be done

If we all do our part, each and every one

So while the spirit may not move us as it has in years past

Let’s look towards the day when finally at long last

This virus is behind us and life’s again what it should be

And the season is joyous for you and for me

Until that day comes let’s care for each other

And consider all our sisters and every brother

We’re all a piece of the puzzle, it’s really quite a feat

Together as one is the only way we’re complete

That’s not to say this years’ losses should be forgotten

By any measure, the last 365 days have been rotten

But we can pick ourselves up, we know how to do it

And despite how it looks, we will all get through it

Then he jumped in his sled with a sparkle in his eye

Gave a shout and a holler and flew towards the sky

He looked back and exclaimed, “remember at the end of every tunnel there’s light

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Closing time

My heart is broken. As a result of the virus and the new world order, one of my favorite restaurants in the world is closing. I first wrote this post about five years ago to the day. And if anything, I love this place even more now than I did then. And as you'll see, I loved it a lot then.

I feel terrible for the entire Walt's Wharf family—chefs, waitstaff, hosts, bartenders. There was never one minute where I didn't feel welcomed and wanted.

It's become a perfect storm for the seafood restaurant (and many others). Because of this bitch virus, the governor's stay-at-home directive and the very real uncertainty of how long they'd have to stay closed, the business simply wasn't sustainable. So after 50 years, 50 years!, they've been forced to shut their doors for good.

I can't remember all the lunch meetings, family dinners and special occasions that were celebrated there. But I'll never forget the meals and the hospitality. I just wish I'd know the last meal I had there was going to be the last meal I had there.

In my dream life, some rich benefactor comes in and saves Walt's Wharf and it just keeps on going. But dreams are just that.

As a certain gravel-voiced singer from New Jersey I'm fond of says in one of his songs, "Is a dream a lie that don't come true, or is it something worse?"

In this case, it is.

Thanks for everything Walt's Wharf. Dining out definitely won't be the same without you.

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. Then, sometimes, you want to go where no one knows your name but you want to go there anyway.

I like to think of myself as someone who likes to mix it up every now and again. Who maintains an air of unpredictability. An edge of danger. I keep spontenaity alive.

I also like to think of myself as six-foot three, one eighty, blond and ripped. But that's not happening either.

Come to find out I'm actually a creature of habit. Today we met some friends for lunch at one of my favorite places, Walt's Wharf in Seal Beach. It's been there forever, and it's always great. At least what I always order is. Because despite a wide variety of fresh seafood, and a wine selection second to none, I have the exact same meal every time I eat there.

Cup of clam chowder with Tabasco. Small Walt's salad with a salmon filet on top. Iced tea. I wanted you to know in case you're buying.

It's a sure thing every time. The problem is I feel like I should try something else. Logic would tell me if my usual choice is so good, other items must be just as good if not better. On the heels of that, I think this meal makes me happy and what am I so worried about.

Besides, since when did I start living my life according to logic? Not a Vulcan, hello.

I'm not going to say feeling bad for having the same great meal at a nice seafood restaurant is a first world problem, but, you know, draw your own conclusions.

Here's what I'm trying to say. If you want to meet me for lunch at Walt's, and you happen to be in a hurry, don't worry. I know what I'm having.