Panic

A concert, a song, a virus, an epidemic, some advice, another concert. Also: 7... other... things... worth... a... click...

My wife and I are so Generation X that when we realized Morrissey was on tour, it took us all of about three minutes to decide to buy tickets.

Friday March 20, at the Hammerstein Ballroom in Manhattan.

Granted, we have logistics to work out. We need a sitter, for example. But then, it also hit me: Wait. Coronavirus.

Are we going to feel like risky idiots in a few weeks, going to a packed concert in a 2,000-seat ballroom?

I mean, I know President Trump insists there's no reason to worry, no risk at all in say, packing the 8,600-seat Bojangles Coliseum in Charlotte last night.

But at the same time, there's a backlash against shaking hands in the U.S., and companies are asking their workers to stay home. Some Catholic churches are announcing no wine at communion.

Overseas, Switzerland has banned all gatherings of more than 1,000 people. (One thing about the Swiss: they don't mess around when it comes to safety.)

It all kind of reminds me of the 1986 song by the Morrissey-led band, The Smiths…