Radio Play.

The young guy in the studio next door/wall to my apartment* is puking his guts out in his bathroom, adjacent to my kitchen space... I am sitting here in the living room and I can hear him.  Radio time!

"I want to run
I want to hide..."

"I want to reach out and touch the flame...
where the streets have no name."

It is a beautiful intro, that drum and guitar solo opening the song.
"Burning them down... burning them down..."

Make it a great Saturday in America.  No matter where you're at or what you're doing... try to be as independent and self supporting as you can.  Don't rely on the work of underpaid others to advance your own.  That's all.
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* The guy on the other side is Lebanese. Has two young sons there, he told me, the day a few months back that he had CoVid late in January, was hospitalized, treated with antibiotics, and later called and told they were changing his diagnosis, months later, to CoVid, since they suspect he had it...

Thanks, dude.  Wear a mask, already?  I know you weren't wiping your hands fastidiously when we were sharing doorknobs, and he seemed almost proud to tell me of his latter-day diagnosis.  Same with his sons.  Wow.  Lebanon's bad economically now, man.  Hope the fathers of the mothers of your sons are well to do.  To me, he belongs there.  With his sons. Not renting next door to me.

Risks. We all take them.
Maybe if you're puking behind thin walls, fellas?  You should be turning on your radios.  No pity here.