Who’s Zoomin’ Who?

April 1, 2020

I’m down to 14 and a half rolls of toilet paper. Should I panic yet?

The other day I was in Costco, and for the first time in weeks I actually saw packages of TP on the shelves. But I resisted the temptation to participate in apocalypse shopping, because I enjoy feeling morally superior to the rabble who are hoarding TP and guns. Maybe I should consider buying my first gun, so that when I run out of TP I can put myself out of my toileting misery.

To escape the coronavirus twilight zone, I go out almost every day for a long walk on nearby jogging/biking trails. With all city, county, state, and national parks closed, the trails are a welcome respite from cabin fever. Everyone else seems to have the same idea, though, so the paths are relatively crowded even on weekdays. I’m glad to see people out in nature, but my smiles and greetings are not always returned as we all try to avoid each other by engaging in the new dance craze called the Six Feet Shuffle.

With my job on hold and my travel plans on ice, I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go. I’m looking for ways to stay connected to family and friends, so last week I discovered Zoom, the San Jose videoconferencing company. So far I’ve Zoomed my high school reunion committee and my meditation group, and in a couple days I’ll be sheltering in place online with my book club and with a dance party for hiking friends. Yes, that’s right – I’ll be capering alone with 35 other people (so far) in a social distancing sock hop, hiking prom, rump shaking, booty twisting, boogie fest, romp-a-thon.

Which brings me to Aretha Franklin.

My recent Zoom encounters reminded me of Aretha’s 1985 hit, Who’s Zoomin’ Who?, which is a song about flirtation: who’s checking out whom? I enjoyed that song in 1985, though at the time I didn’t know what it meant, so I googled the lyrics just now and was pleased to rediscover the opening lines of the song: “Ooh, boy, uh-huh, ah, yeah, oh, oh, oh, oh, ah, yeah.” I’ll leave it to musical historians to parse the meaning of those profound lyrics. Suffice it to say that the Queen of Soul managed to translate those insightful words into a ton of money. Why can’t I write like that?

I was glad to learn via my guru Google that, in the African American vernacular, zoom also means sexual intercourse. I haven’t tried sexual intercourse on Zoom yet, but if I manage to pull it off, at least it’ll be safe sex. Unless you can get HIV or coronavirus through Zoom. But if I score with a hot babe at my Zoom dance party, I just hope her hotness doesn’t come with a fever.