Last night, I attended a virtual seder and we were asked to write something about how we were feeling. Oof. Hard! Here’s what I wrote and read. If you’re so inclined, I’m sharing it here. (1/)

We are in a massive moment of uncertainty. Seders—they’re consistent. Things I remember from every seder of my youth—food (terrible), Uncle’s jokes (bad), Afikomen (hidden inside the piano at my aunt’s house), Dayenu (a really catchy song) and, of course, the four questions. (2/)

Depending on when I do this reading, the four questions will have already been done. And were great. Great job. Or they’re upcoming. Look forward to it, they’ll be a big hit! But here’s the thing about the four questions. They’re structured in such a way, that there are… (3/)

…four answers. And at this moment we’re all sitting here full of many questions that mostly don’t have answers. And it’s kind of all I think about. So here are my current, say, 17 questions: (4/)

1.) When will this be over? (5/)

2.) How is it possible that five days ago I walked into a bank with an Old West bandana wrapped around my face and no one cared and the woman deposited my check and wished me a nice day and it was not the 900th weirdest thing that happened that day? (6/)

3.) Would my parents like Unorthodox on Netflix? On the one hand, very Jewish. On the other hand, very subtitled. (7/)

4.) Dr. Fauci said yesterday that this event will probably be the end of people doing handshakes forever. Well, Dr. Fauci, if you’re at a dinner party and your friend brings this guy she’s been out with like three times… (8/)

…and you’ve had two thirty second conversations with this person over the course of the night and it comes time to leave and you hug everyone because they’re you’re friends and you’ve known them for years… (9/)

…and then you come to him but handshakes are against the law. What are you supposed to do? Like… nod? Do you have to hug this person? (10/)

5.) Dr. Fauci, is there a Mrs. Fauci? Yes. Her name is Christine Grady and she’s taller than him. (11/)

6.) I saw a video this week where someone who worked on the Apprentice said Donald Trump definitely wears Depends adult diapers. Can this be true or is it just wishful thinking? (12/)

Can a 70 something man who is not in the E Street Band truly do a two hour rally without a bathroom break? I peed three times during a Quibi. THIS JOKE WILL AGE WELL. (13/)

Biden, on the other hand doesn’t talk as long and his suits have a much slimmer silhouette and he still may wear Depends. And I don’t want to get too political here, but Bernie also probably wears Depends Adult Diapers. (14/)

7.) Has anyone in my vicinity coughed? (15/)

8.) If I cough is it a wet cough? Can I taste things? Does that mean I’m still okay? (16/)

9.) In a mad dash to stock up on food I got a lot of beef jerky because I figured it lasts and would be good for protein. I don’t like beef jerky. What am I supposed to do with all this fucking beef jerky? (17/)

10.) My nephew who is eight said on Sunday “When coronavirus is over will you come visit me?” I said “Of course.” This is not really a question. It just made me sad. (18/)

11.) This is a niche question, but will the narrators on the JackBox games please stop doing that arch thing where they insult everyone playing? We’re all very vulnerable and it’s not the time. (19/)

12.) [This question is redacted because it’s in poor taste AND involves a visual prop but if you text me I’ll probably tell it to you.] (20/)

13.) This is more a Hanukkah question than a passover question, but how long would a toilet paper roll need to last for it to be considered a miracle? (21/)

14.) Do we think the following celebrities, on their own, know how to work Zoom?

Lady Gaga
Sylvester Stallone
Angelyne
Mike Tyson
Val Kilmer
Jared Leto
Little Stevie Van Sant
Kathy Lee Gifford
Bono
(22/)

15.) So, if I can’t answer the question about when will this all be over, can I ask the question of when will it be over enough that I can resume just one basic normal activity that I can’t do right now? And if so, what is that one basic normal activity I most want to do? (23/)

16.) I moved to Los Angeles and in fact set the entire course of my education and career partly because of the feeling I got sitting in a movie theatre, watching something in front of me… (24/)

Will I ever go to a movie theatre again? Is that okay? Weirdly, right now, with “everything else” it still feels okay. (25/)

17.) Lastly, do I feel lucky? Collectively, as a human race, I don’t. Collectively, as a country, I don’t. But here we are. Somehow talking to friends and loved ones. Somehow all together. Not sick. Hopefully. For now… (26/)

So, is that some form of lucky. I find myself still complaining about things sometimes. I ordered Indian food from my favorite LA place the other day and it got here and it was terrible—the order was wrong, the food was flavorless— (27/)

And I mentioned it offhandedly to my parents and my mom said I should call to complain, but I can’t do that. Some guy literally risked his life to bring me dinner. Who cares that it was terrible? (28/)

I was sick last week. Not corona-sick, but it was awful. I couldn’t get out of bed for days. Today was the first day I showered and got dressed since Saturday. (29/)

And I think about how much we rely on these dumb bodies of ours to do every thing we need and ward off all the things in the world that want to kill us. And sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t. (30/)

And without them, who are we? We’re still this. We are still having a Passover Seder, we are telling a story about an ancient city where people lived their lives as plagues came from nowhere, and hit all around them. And that’s now too, of course. (31/)

And then all the Jews gathered up really close and left town together for 40 years and didn’t have time to let bread rise, and, that’s not now. I MADE BREAD. FROM SCRATCH. LAST WEEK. (32/)

But I do feel lucky. I don’t know what bad awaits, only what is behind us, and every day there is bad behind us and we are still here, somehow, somewhat together, we are lucky. (33/)

I don’t have wine. I have a Coke Zero. My one giant vice. I’ve drank somewhere around 7500 cans of these since we started quarantine. 34/)

Every day, we wake up. And there are people I love to reach out to. Some old, some new. And they make these weird awful days worth living. And they are everywhere. So I’m lucky, we’re lucky. And that’s the real question I was trying to answer. Cheers. (35/35)