A Shot and a Beer

One vaccination down and one to go. The hardest part of the process was picking out warm, but loose clothing that I could roll far enough up my arm to allow access to the injection site. Junkies shooting up into veins in their forearms don’t have such worries.

I understand that there is the possibility of muscle soreness where the needle is inserted, but, fortunately, I have no muscles anywhere near my upper arm. I enjoyed the experience so much that I’m going back for more in a few weeks.

To celebrate, I went straight from the hospital to a local tavern and bought a round for everyone. In accordance with the latest word from the CDC, I made them all doubles, though I suspect they were watered down. I hope the hospital wasn’t doing that.

A Shot in the Dark

Prior to this year, the hardest thing I ever tried doing was going without chocolate for six months in my youth, theoretically to help suppress acne. Then COVID arrived.

Isolating myself and avoiding people has been a piece of cake (chocolate). But trying to get a vaccination is not for the faint of heart.

Upon the advice of various people in the know, I’ve registered with the city, the county, the state, two drug store chains, three hospitals, and the guy peddling drugs to the kids at the nearby playground, but, so far, no luck, except I scored some antidepressants from the peddler.

Now I’m thinking that maybe I should start answering the twenty-three robocalls I get each day in case one of them is a COVID vaccination scam. There’ve been a lot of studies on the possible positive effects of placebos. It’s only a small step further to imagine good results from paying someone for a shot you never receive.

“I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in.”

I was relieved to see that the CDC has not added chronic cynicism or sarcasm to its list of underlying medical conditions that increase the risk for severe illness from COVID 19.

And while the organization has not yet created a parallel list of conditions that might decrease the risk, I would think that chronic anthropophobia, the fear of people, which often results in avoiding social situations, would be an obvious starting point.

And misanthropy, which also leads to a relatively low degree of human interaction, thus limiting one’s potential exposure to the virus, unless you’re a politician, should make the list.

As we await a miracle vaccine that will allay our concerns about the virus, especially if it also saves the environment, we could start trials whereby one group (ala South Pacific) is “carefully taught to hate” (and later quarantined in Kentucky) and a placebo group is shown pictures of babies, puppy dogs, and ice cream.

A similar trial might be developed in regard to the virus itself. While there has long been discussion as to whether viruses are living organisms, that determination should not impact the ability to teach them to be repulsed (think ions of like charges repelling each other), much as we all are by the thought of yet another Batman movie, and therefore want to avoid, human beings.

Running on Empty

Mithridatism is the practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts. I wouldn’t try a similar strategy at home in regard to COVID-19, but I have decided that it’s safe to experiment with it in regard to the boredom that has accompanied the pandemic. So, don’t go crazy trying to fill every day with things to do. Set aside an increasing amount of time for boredom each day until you can go a whole week doing nothing and thinking nothing of it. I’m calling this the teenager model.

Against all advice I learned from my mother, I’m now intentionally not putting things back where I found them. This new plan of action forces me to engage my higher mental processes more, as there are currently no other activities for which theses abilities can be put to better use. Not only am I forced to remember the new location, I also must get creative in terms of repositioning things, thereby incidentally discovering hiding spots I didn’t know I had and increasing my storage space. And, when I can’t find something I’ve moved, I no longer get upset or worry about the possible loss of cognitive function.  Rather I treat it like a one-person game of hide and seek, where I win either by finding the item or by successfully hiding it from myself.

The COVID-19 Twelve-Step Program

Step 1: Admit that you are out of control and powerless over COVID-19.
Step 2: Come to believe that a power greater than yourself, Tony Fauci, could restore you to sanity.
Step 3: Admit that you are no longer capable of making the simplest of decisions.
Step 4: Make an inventory of your toilet paper and disinfectant.
Step 5: Admit to yourself, and to a pet, the exact nature of your hoarding.
Step 6: Be entirely ready to have the same meal every day.
Step 7: Humbly submit to Amazon Prime.
Step 8: Make a list of all persons upon whom you have breathed, and become willing to make amends to all of them.
Step 9: Made direct amends to such people, but don’t go breathing on them again.
Step 10: Continue to take inventory, but stop feeling guilty about the hoarding.
Step 11: Seek, through Zoom, to improve your contact with the outside world as you remember it, or, better yet, as you would like it to be.
Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, try to carry this message to people who are disregarding the greater power (see Step 2).

Who Was That Masked Man?

I haven’t read anything about it in any of the 12 medical journals to which I now subscribe, but apparently, based upon my observations regarding usage, there must be evidence that holding a face mask in your hand or wearing on your elbow provides just as much, if not more, protection from COVID-19, for you and others, as wearing it on your face does.

On my daily trek, I saw a very pregnant, unmasked woman walking in the park. I was tempted to approach her and ask if she had a cigarette I could bum, but decided that she wouldn’t appreciate the subtlety of my request.

Walking down the sidewalk, I saw approaching me a group of five, somewhat boisterous, unmasked men (not a Lone Ranger among them) taking up the entire sidewalk and then some. Any indecision I may have had as to my next move was quickly eliminated when I saw and heard one of them loudly cough into his hand. As I quickly veered left and began crossing the street, one of them yelled out something that may have been an affront to my manhood, but I’m not sure, as I was too busy thinking about quiche recipes.

First (and hopefully last) Annual COVID-19 Awards

Best Use of the Moody Bible Institute Parking Lot: 2nd place – a three-on-three hockey game on roller blades. 1st place – a guy urinating into the side of one of the school’s buses, incorrectly assuming that he was hidden (or maybe he just didn’t care).

Most Egregious Mistake – a guy walking his dog who confused which hand held the plastic doggie poop bag and which held his similarly-colored pale blue face mask.

Best Non-News News I’ve Heard: So far there is no evidence to say that people can catch COVID-19 through their ears.

Best Medical Use of a Metronome: To measure the steadiness of my heart beat, in place of an EKG.

Best reason to wear a face mask while walking around outside, even if no one else is around – you don’t need to put suntan lotion on your nose.

Best New Idea – I’m thinking of opening a singles bar, with no occupancy restrictions, called Risk v. Reward. Upon entry, you will be asked to sign a waiver regarding STDs, COVID-19, and financial advice from the bartenders.

Second Best New Idea – Sunglasses with a microscope-type lens that enables you to see the virus, and a computer in the frame that analyzes the concentration and direction of the particles, and the wind velocity, to give you advice on how to avoid contagion, with an optional training video, narrated by football Hall-of-Fame running back Barry Sanders, who walks you through how to quickly make your moves once you have all the information.