Please, Please, Please…Not Another COVID-19 Email!!!
This week all is well at Madison+Main and we continue to work remotely. For a “non-essential business” we’ve never been busier and we’ve never felt more essential to our clients. We are grateful to them and we are grateful for our health.
This week I got 143 emails from various brands; brands I know and love, brands I know and don’t love, and brands I’ve never heard of.
- The brands I know and love seem genuinely concerned about me and my health.
- The brands I know and don’t love sent me long lists of how they’re preparing for the virus.
- The brands I’ve never heard of sent me emails that went straight to my spam folder.
If you only take one piece of advice from me this week, let it be this. Please, please, please stop sending COVID-19 emails. You may think you’re doing a great service, but you’re actually just adding to the noise. Send me your thoughts on the future. Send me healthy, smiling pics of your people. Send me a picture of that flowering Dogwood outside of your window. Send me anything but please do not send me another email that includes the words “social distancing.”
PROGRAMMING NOTE: Madison+Main is offering a free lunchtime webinar on Fridays at 12 noon between now and the end of April when things get back to “normal.” Click here on the event page and let us know that you’ll be attending next Friday. Today’s Facebook Live reached 542 people, received 54 comments and generated a lot of great questions from small and midsize business owners. Did I mention it’s free? #TryingToDoOurPart
Back by popular demand — about 100 likes on Facebook and three email requests — I have decided to continue updates this week from “The Captain.” Hey, why not? They’re funny and I did not mention COVID-19 once. Okay…maybe…once.
Captains Log, Stardate 323.2020
I think isolation is having a negative effect on crew…performance. Mr. Chekov set the wrong course and now we’re lost. Navigational computer says we’re in the Gamma Trianguli sector, east of Eden. The local inhabitants call it Floyd, Virginia. No food, no commerce, and no signs of intelligent life — just a bunch of half-naked hippies with flower tattoos. Brought them aboard at 04:20. All are in a trance-like state and never stop singing, even when we put them in the Sick Bay. The whole ship now smells like a skunk and we’re running out of snacks that end in “O”; Doritos, Oreos, etc. Oh, the humanity!
Captains Log, Stardate 324.2020
The isolation is taking its toll on morale and people are “stress eating.” Dr. McCoy is thinking of putting some serious restrictions on the ship’s Replicators. The only thing the crew wants to eat is KFC and Little Debbie snack cakes. The biggest side effect of COVID-19 so far is gaining 19 pounds. Got dressed this morning and realized my pants are much tighter around the waist. Those idiots down at Ship’s Laundry must have sent me Sulu’s uniform. And Spock, oh my heavens, he’s gone off the edge. He hasn’t come out of his room since Saturday. He’s just sitting in the dark, eating Cadbury Creme Eggs and playing spa music on that stupid lute. He’s out of his Vulcan mind!
Captains Log, Stardate 325.2020
We found an interesting polychromatic planet today in the Dotcom Quadrant. The people are quite brilliant and they use a highly sophisticated commerce system that lets the inhabitants “name my own price for travel.” It’s called Priceline. Mind. Blown. No one has any money, or can take any time off, or can fly anywhere, because we’re in lockdown. But, man oh man, when this whole virus dealio is done I’m going to log on and use the Pricelinian system and take a much-needed vacation. I hear the beaches on H-113 are nice. Or maybe I’ll shoot over to Rigel XII…the women there…are…beautiful.
Captains Log, Stardate 326.2020
The replicator broke yesterday, but Scotty is trying to fix it. He says with the crew quarantined, all they do is eat and the replicator has been pushing out so many cakes and pastries that it’s gunked up with powdered sugar and pink frosting. Meanwhile, we’ve had to open the reserve food supplies. The red shirts have eaten their fill of broccoli, pinto beans, and Nesquik. The entire crew is passing gas at an alarming rate. Chekov reports toxic levels of methane in the ship’s airlock. The entire ship smells worse than a Troglyte mine on Ardana. The last time I felt this sick, I woke up into a Klingon garbage scow after polishing off a forty of Chech’tluth. The smell…is…unbearable.
Captains Log, Stardate 327.2020
Things have been looking up in the last 24 hours. Crew members are moving around and the Ship’s Lounge has visitors once again — although every third seat is cordoned off. President Khan and the Congress of the Federation have promised reinforcements and re-shipments of much-needed supplies. Yet, Spock has been troubled by a great disturbance in subspace. His Vulcan intuition led us to set a course for Topeka and the Westboro sector, where we found an ugly storefront “church” next to an Arby’s. We found no signs of intelligent life. However, we did find 16 deranged monsters holding 53 colorful signs that said horrible things. The landing party set phasers to stun, dropped them like hot potatoes and beamed them up. Once aboard, we quickly dispatched them to the surface of Bellatrix, a star in the Orion belt that has a temperature of 22,000 Kelvin — five times hotter than the Sun. “God is in His heaven. All is right with the world.” – Robert Browning
The events we normally post in the Weekly Report are still canceled. #Sorry
“Compassion: that’s the one thing no machine ever had. Maybe it’s the one thing that keeps men ahead of them.”
— Dr. McCoy