Friday, April 9, 2021

Secret proof of UFOs banning all vaccines


     “Walgreens,” observed the medical technician at a CVS in Franklin Park Tuesday, reading the vaccine card I handed him as I sat down behind the little blue screen and bared my upper right arm.
     Busted, patronizing the competition. I hadn’t considered the Cubs vs. Sox, Field’s vs. Carson’s aspect of crossing from Walgreens to rival CVS for my second dose of COVID vaccine. My older son, who set up my first appointment in Springfield, shifted the second to Franklin Park. Considerate boy.
     Not only a far shorter drive, but by changing, the doses were now the proper three weeks apart. Turns out Walgreens was giving the Pfizer shots a month apart, because it was easier for them to schedule. Until they were called on it and stopped.
     Considering an employee of CVS was about to jab a needle in my arm, an explanation seemed in order.
     “I actually prefer CVS,” I said. “Because of Nicholson Baker’s ‘The Mezzanine.’ A man breaks his shoelace and goes to a CVS to buy a new one. That’s the entire plot of the novel ...”
     I tend to babble when being given a shot. (“Annnnnnd...” my wife thinks, reading this, smiling sardonically, “when NOT being given a shot ...”)
     As this was happening — I didn’t even feel the needle — Vice President Kamala Harris was in Chicago, imploring “those who have received the vaccine” to “please tell all your friends and aunties and uncles and grandparents and kids” to get vaccinated.
     Were it only that easy. Because you either already know to get the shot ASAP, to spare yourself an arduous, often deadly, illness, and protect your community. Or you haven’t figured it out and probably can’t. Being urged to do so will only cause you to dig in, in the knee-jerk contrariety that so many mistake for independent thought.
     Did you see the government slogan, attempting to reach the vaccine resistant? “Let’s Get Vaccinated.” The heart breaks. Putting that chirpy slogan — who dreamed that one up, the Muppet Babies? — up against the widespread serf fear of doctors and the wasp nest of crazed conspiracy mongering.

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  1. I was wondering if you were going to have to drive all the way back to Springfield to get your second dose. glad someone was able to get you that appointment nearer to home.

    I too was fortunate enough to know someone who could navigate the system and get me an appointment.

    having experienced long coevid symptoms for several months I had hoped I might, like others report, have diminished symptoms from getting the jab. as it turns out I have. significantly. im surprised and grateful.

    while not completely back to pre coevid levels, I would say my energy level, muscle and joint soreness brain fog and breathing have improved significantly. working 8 hour days again . getting restful sleep and able to concentrate and communicate more easily.

    I hope others find this relief as well


    1. Glad to see that good report, FME. I was wondering if things had gotten better for you after some of the previous comments about your ordeal.

  2. "But that’s not the liberal way — we believe in talking people down, not greasing the ledge."
    au contraire monsieur, i beg to differ. i'd grease the soles of their shoes to hasten their departure, i'm just way past done with all of these monsters.

    1. Damn betcha. The time for compromise and negotiation and accommodation is long past. But I'll spare everybody from reading yet another anti-fascist tirade.

  3. Several people I know who have been vaccinated found locations pretty much by accident. A guy in my neighborhood just happened to see a flyer about availability at the Pullman Community Center. A friend mentioned getting their shot at Jewel; I didn't even know Jewel was giving shots. Another friend casually mentioned he got his shot at Roseland Hospital. He gave me the contact info, and I got a friend (74 with underlying conditions) in for her 2 shots. Maybe more people would get vaccinated if it wasn't so hard to find a shot. As we know, not everyone - particularly us old people - have a smart phone, computer, or are computer literate.

    Seems to me there could have been some kind of system set up to contact newspapers, and whenever a vaccination location opened up, that info could be printed daily on the front page: location, contact phone, website/email. I have a doctor at U of C, and was contacted by the hospital through their patient portal. Made appts. online, in and out each time in 30 minutes. Incredibly well organized. They sought me out; I didn't have to go looking for them. Lucky me, but getting life-saving treatment shouldn't be a matter of luck.

    1. My wife and I signed up at a pharmacy in January. Never heard a peep put of them. So we waited. And waited. And waited. Didn't feel like hunting for a vaccination site after the seventysomethings became eligible. Heard too many horror stories about it being like trying to score Elvis tickets.

      So I expected to be waiting for weeks, or even months. Had not gotten sick. Knew very few people who'd gotten sick. Figured my wife and I could stay hunkered-down and keep dodging the bullets until spring. Then...the Cleveland Department of Health signed us up. Great! How did THAT happen?

      Simple. They robo-called all the seventysomethings in town. A snap...and a relief. Cleveland is not Chicago. It's actually possible for them to contact everyone in an eligible cohort, and to inform and enlighten them. I called the phone number, and after a half-hour on hold, got signed up easily.

      And then...a week before our appointments, the Plague clocked both of us. So we had to postpone our vaccinations for two more weeks. Two weeks of pure hell.

      While we suffered and coughed and wheezed, the city took over our neighborhood rec center. When we finally got our shots, it went down like clockwork, both times. City employees and EMTs and local firefighters ran an incredibly smooth operation. A thousand geezers a day gpt the jab. In and out in less than an hour. They called us, we follwed up, and we showed up at the appointed times.

      If the Untied Snakes could win two world wars, and go to the moon, getting vaccinated should be this easy for everyone, not just for older folks.

  4. I've already done my sermonette in Neil's blog about how stupid certain Trump followers are (3/3/2021), so there's no need to rehash that here, but I'm wondering how many folks here remember the Darwin Awards? That was a compilation of loony news items (with perhaps a few urban legends creeping in), people being recognized for their efforts to improve the gene pool by removing themselves from it. Back in the late 1980s and early 1990s, when the Internet was more a novelty than a life necessity, inhabited by more intellectuals and fewer whack-jobs, the Darwin Awards list circulated on a more-or-less annual basis, little moments of hysterical reading in monospace text on a green monitor.

    These days, the people convinced of their conspiracy theories or other irrational fears of the vaccine may eventually, um, go away all by themselves, leaving us the better for it. The Darwin Awards are still going (and of COURSE they have a website now), but I suspect that the Awards may be struggling to remain noteworthy, because we're now already so well aware of how many others around us are blundering through life in spite of themselves, each day being a miracle that nature hasn't offed them yet.


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