March 21, 2020

From Gerald R. Lucas

Discourse covid-19: day 9 | US: GA | info

I followed a YouTube tutorial about setting up a Wordpress install on Google Cloud, but instead of WP, I installed Discourse. It was pretty quick and painless, and I’m pretty impressed with myself. . . . OK, I’m over it.

The result is a new server running cool forum software for my students. I’ve used forums before with varying degrees of success. The most recent were on D2L, which I did not like. We know the medium is the message, so I’m hoping better software might mean better participation. 😂 . . . OK, I’m over it. Seriously, I do have to be strategic in my approach. Coupled with a few Zoom meetings, this is how my classes will finish online this semester. Here’s my intro.

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Check out Michael T. Osterholm and Mark Olshaker’s piece in the Washington Post for a smart and sober view of the COVID-19 outbreak: “Facing covid-19 reality: A national lockdown is no cure”:

It seems we need to worry about everyday people and their financial situations. I’m still working, but many are not going to be able to. I’d like to see congress do something here. Except, true to form, the Republicans seem to want to give less to those who have less.

God, we truly suck. And, no surprise, Trump is still a petulant asshole.

Also, Forbes reports that “Confirmed Coronavirus Cases Are Growing Faster In The United States Than Any Other Country In The World”:

Of course we are. Uh, I’m going to go 🥃 now.

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And now for the good news. Patrick Stewart is doing a sonnet a day on his Instagram feed. He’s starting with my favorite.

Sonnet 116
By: William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixèd mark 5
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come; 10
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.