Quarantine Brain

Nothing made sense this year—unless you were on the internet.

- By E. Alex Jung

QUARANTINE CULTURE began on March 11, when Whoopi Goldberg rattled out a greeting to a studio of empty chairs on the set of The View: “Well, hello, hello, hello! Welcome to The View, y’all. Welcome to The View! Welcome to The View! Welcome to The View! welcome to the view! WELCOMETOTHEVIEW! WELCOMETOTHEVIEW.” That day, the reality of the coronavirus pandemic breached the walls of pop culture: Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson announced they had contracted covid-19 and were self-isolating in Australia; Rudy Gobert of the Utah Jazz made light of social-distancing measures before testing positive too, forcing the NBA to suspend its season indefinitely. And the mad cherry on top? A clip from The Masked Singer—featuring former vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin rapping “Baby Got Back” in costume as Bear while Nick Cannon booty-popped alongside her— went viral. Surreal, distressing, stupid. It made total sense.

The View was a step ahead of where the rest of New York—and most of the country—would end up. At the time, I was working on a profile of Celine Song, whose play Endlings was set to open at the New York Theatre Workshop. When it closed just days after it had opened, she texted me, “I’m a full widow.” Soon, the entire cultural life force of the city would be drained. There would be no more live studio audiences. No restaurants, no bars, no movie theaters, no plays, no concerts, no readings, no parties. Nothing.