Insert Foot vs. rushing through the COVID-19 pandemic.

Now I know the world is going to hell. We have proof.

Because who punches Rick Moranis in the head?

A once-a-century pandemic? It’s terrible, but one could argue one was due. The ensuing death, suffering and unemployment? Anyone not jamming their cranium in the dirt – and there were/are many – saw that advancing like a raging forest fire on the horizon (speaking of things we saw coming).

But who punches defenseless Canadians? They’re so polite. They give you snacks when you show up at their houses unannounced. They probably apologize to you for hitting you in the fist with their face.

So if you are still obsessing over trivial things like elections and pandemics, know that last Wednesday morning, Rick Moranis was walking down a New York City street, minding his own business, when some guy clocked him, then resumed strolling down the sidewalk.

Maybe he just saw “Ghostbusters II.”

No … that was more than 30 years ago, way before they made it illegal to show in public.

Moranis, who also starred in the still funny “Ghostbusters,” “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids,” and was a big part of classic Canadian comedy troupe Second City Television, retired years ago with lots of career theoretically left. He has said he did so to devote more time to his family, something we never believe when anyone but Canadians say it.

Moranis – who’s 5 feet, 6 inches tall and, at 67, looks less intimidating than a pint of melting ice cream, wasn’t seriously hurt. The assailant–who was suspiciously wearing a shirt professing love for New York–hadn’t been corralled as of Saturday.

Stop beating up Canadians, you guys. The rest of the world already doesn’t like us. We may need them some day.

For example, if the country keeps burning, we may need to take a cue from British paramedics. A company called Gravity Industries is testing a new type of jet pack that would allow first responders to rocket over rugged terrain to get to victims faster and WAY COOLER then they can now.

I stumbled (screwing around when I was supposed to be working) onto a video the other day of a simulated situation in which rescuers on foot would’ve taken 25 minutes to get to the hypothetical victim.

Then they strapped a jet pack on some guy, who blasted off and WHAMMO … he got there in 90 seconds.

How do I become a British paramedic?

AND MORE PANDEMIC MUSINGS: My gym opened Friday. And theaters are opening as well. It probably won’t be long until concert venues start figuring out how to open, though I hope they won’t.

I think Washington, D.C., which seems to need a serious disinfecting, has shown us the wisdom of thinking COVID-19 is finally relenting. I’m tempted to go to the gym (I like the abuse) and theaters are (were) regular hangs for my 12-year-old and I. Businesses are teetering on the edge of economic ruin and there’s a certain urgency out there that it’s now or never.

With the things I’ve done to my body over the years, I probably still have a built-in notion I can survive anything (send me a jet pack and I promise we’ll find out). But there are plenty of people who started 2020 with similar ideas who are no longer with us.

There’s still not much word on concert venues re-opening, which may be a blessing in disguise (unless you’re a performer or someone in the industry whose income depends on it). By all accounts, the scattered concerts in drive-in theaters and other big parking lots have gone well, but bad weather is coming and there’s only so much money in staging those, anyway.

If enough people manage to hold out and keep the faith until 2021, we may be rewarded with shows again. Watch more YouTube in the meantime. I can’t say enough about the awesome jet pack videos.

OR.

If you’d rather recap the big events of Oct. 2 to 3 but with a tiny bit more comedy and and a tiny bit less probability (just a tiny bit), may I suggest reruns of “BrainDead?”

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.