I'll start: The existence of a literal playbook by the NSC from 2016, for how to handle a pandemic breakout:

"Is there sufficient personal protective equipment for healthcare workers who are providing medical care?" the playbook instructs its readers, as one early decision that officials should address when facing a potential pandemic. "If YES: What are the triggers to signal exhaustion of supplies? Are additional supplies available? If NO: Should the Strategic National Stockpile release PPE to states?"

which was 100% ignored. Stories from the frontlines, criminal mismanagement of this crisis, etc: all the stuff that will take over your brain if you can't compartmentalize goes here.

This is intended to be our system for checking in on imaginary friends, so that we know whether or not to be concerned if you go offline for a while.

Episode 2.

There are a few broad qualitatively different kinds of shelter-in-place/lockdown/whatever we're doing:

1. You're leaving the house daily or often to go to work.
2. You live alone.
3. You live with self-sufficient adults.
4. You live with children or dependents.

and these are vastly different experiences. (2,3, and 4 imply that you're WFH.) What am I missing? (you could probably spend all day tackling that last question.)

What are your favorite daily update sources on this?

This guy went off the grid to take some photos:

Russian photographer Max Avdeev set off in late February for a journey that had become somewhat of a tradition: roaming the wilderness in Russia's far north with a group of reindeer herders on snowmobiles, completely off the grid.

When he left the world looked like this: A federal judge had just sentenced Roger Stone to more than three years in prison for lying to Congress, witness tampering and other charges, and Russia had been trying to interfere in the Democratic primaries to help Sen. Bernie Sanders, who was on a winning streak.

The point of the story is that he re-entered civilization on March 17th, ten days later, and had some jaw-dropping catching up to do. (Via Mossy.)

Similarly, there was a news story a week ago or so about how the cast of Germany Big Brother still didn't know everything was upside down, and they had to be sat down and informed. But also, their set-up was actually very quarantined and safe, so carry on. (That last part is what I imagine. I don't actually know.)

I remember in 2016, jokes about someone waking up from a coma and being informed about Brexit and Trump (and maybe a third item that now I can't remember?) and what a mindfuck that would be.

I guess my point is that: aside from the fear and dread and grief, there's also the whiplash of getting used to the idea that we have shut down the world in the past three weeks. My kids were asking about their most cherished summer activities, and I was soberly explaining to them which things I thought were probably cancelled. And almost as consolation, I said, "But this is the kind of thing you will tell your grandchildren about" and that kind of drew them up short to consider. I don't think the world has ever turned upside down on this scale and speed in my lifetime, for sure.

For the most part, I feel less disoriented with the speed of change this week than I did during the two previous weeks. It's all moved so fast, and yet everything in daily life feels so slow. (We kept a vague semblance of a schedule yesterday, which did help. Oh, and by 11 pm, the city had shut down all parks around the river. Which is upsetting, but the right thing to do.)

Maybe we should leave this stuff to the pros.

here's an abridged version of the full list of food puns i turned in with my first draft of tonight's #TheGoodPlace episode pic.twitter.com/x335NYNN09

— Megan Amram (@meganamram) September 29, 2017

This is intended to be our system for checking in on imaginary friends, so that we know whether or not to be concerned if you go offline for a while.

Episode 1.

Mossy writes: Clear the hall:

Sunday night's contest showed that, in the absence of a crowd cheering on the combatants' more pandering tendencies, a debate can be a useful exercise after all--a way to gauge the candidates' views and character.

A preview of this possibility was first glimpsed on the night of Biden's Super Tuesday victories. Amid the early warnings of the coronavirus, Biden delivered his speech to just a small group of supporters. It was a quiet speech, calling for party unity, and he delivered it quietly. In earlier speeches, he'd had to yell to be heard over the loud, hooting crowds, and the yelling often triggered the stuttering from his youth. This time, there was no crowd, no yelling, no stuttering, and, as the Washington Post reported, many called his words and his demeanor "presidential, a sign of leadership, and a contrast to President Trump's bluster."

The relative calm of Sunday night's debate made Sanders look better too.

Heebie's take: Maybe campaigns can learn from this and design events that speak to the candidate's strengths?