Hard to believe I am sitting here penning the last column of one of the worst years in recent history. Of course COVID-19 was the number one topic throughout most of the year, and it probably will be well into 2021. Gosh, 2020 started out so nice. Here’s the first paragraph of of the first Don’t Rush Me of 2020.
“Well, we made it to a shiny, new decade. A decade of promise, of hope, hardship and happiness. It’s the dawn of a new era, so I might as well go into this year of 2020 in a large way. Make a splash if you will. So, I ask, why not get a new name?”
Who woulda’ thunk the proverbial rug woulda’ been pulled out from under all of us. Here’s to 2021.
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Headlines are bait. When you write a headline you wanna’ make ‘em interesting, to catch a reader’s eyes. I have fun writing headlines. Here are my favorite Don’t Rush Me headlines from 2020.

Fungat is as fungat does — Nov. 18
Stupid Coronavirus — Oct. 21
A little ouchy time with Mr. Rush —
Oct. 14
All of yous, shut up shuttin’ up! —
Sept. 16
Pillow fights and eating the weak —
June 10
What I did on my COVID vacation — May 13
The little virus that could — March 18
Gather round me men
#MustacheMarch is near! — Jan. 29.

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In that Jan. 29 column, I did manage to come up with a couple of catchy hash-tags.
#MustacheMarch
#ThePatriarchyStrikesBack
#We’reInTheDogHouseNow.
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It wouldn’t be a year of Don’t Rush Mes if I didn’t rile a number of you readers up. When I wrote, “Last month I asked you to join me in the first-ever masculine movement of the hash-tag era, #MustacheMarch. Now is the time men!” At least one female was upset — I know cuz she wrote me a 528 word masterpiece. Here’s a part of it.
“Side note to your comment about our grandfathers, great uncles and forefathers founding this great country; remember, the only reason it was founded solely by men was because discrimination refused us a seat at the table. Although, they didn’t seem to have a problem asking women to step up when factories needed workers because all the men were away at war. Luckily for us, when the men came home they let us go quietly back into the kitchens where we belonged. Oh, and we got to raise those babies we were having because there was no access to contraceptives.”
Oakie doakie . . .
In the summer I wrote about “mask nazis” shaming those who do not wear masks — noting that I wear one in public. I reasoned, if you’re wearing a mask, washing your hands and social distancing, you should be safe. For that belief we received a letter that in part said, “Mr. Rush, Either you flunked basic high school science, are totally medically clueless or perhaps just willfully ignorant— maybe all three?
“ . . . Your column was certainly devoid of any empathy and perhaps exposed your own hypocrisy and certainly confirmed your profound lack of knowledge about science and public health. Maybe the White House would like you as a writer?”
Such anger.
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The first vacation I have had in 10 was in 2020, and it was because of COVID. What I did on my COVID vacation was first published on May 13. And, well here’s part of that column, which was my favorite Don’t Rush Me of 2020:
Stupid COVID-19.
I hope you all were more productive than, I, your not worthy hero. What did I do on my COVID vacation? Not a whole hell of a lot. One thing I didn’t do all of April, 2020 is tie my sneakers. For over 30 days I just tucked the laces in under my feet and went.
I didn’t go to the big box stores — didn’t trust them to be able to keep up with cleaning. I did do short grocery shopping trips to Bueche’s and Neiman’s family markets.
I didn’t do many home improvement projects at Casa D’Rush. But, I did vacuum once and did manage to put pants on long enough to cut the grass — once. I did have plenty of “No Pants” Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays. As not to feel like too much of a bum, I always made sure to wear pants on Fridays to walk out to the mailbox.
Bathing, optional. At least once a week.
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Oh, yeah. And, since The Gov shut down barbers early in the year, I couldn’t get a hair cut. Stir crazy, I shaved my head bald. That was not a good look. Think Uncle Fester from the Adamms Family TV show. When I told my sons of what I had done, the next day they sent me pictures of what they had done. Take a look below.
So, 2020 be gone. We wish you well. Here’s to a GREAT new year. I believe in 2021, I do, I do, I do!

  don rush, don’t rush me