Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

Emaskulated

For over a year we have all participated in taking the steps to keep ourselves and one another safe from COVID transmission.

OK, wait, back that up, rewind, and let me try it again.

For over a year, sane, rational, socially conscious Americans have participated in taking the steps to keep ourselves safe from COVID transmission.

Better.

We all know that there is a large contingent of Humpty Trumpty, low iQanon, anti-vaxxer, conspiracy loving, masks-are-a-sign-of-the-end-times, full load diaper babies who have made it their lot in life to torment, taunt, and traumatize the rest of us.  Their meltdowns are legend, captured for eternity in video after video, many have found their way into courtrooms and jailtime for their aggressive ignorance, and still millions more fill message boards, Facebook groups, and conservative websites with their bullshit, lies, and fever dreams.

All because they were asked to look beyond the tip of their own noses, to consider the health and safety of others, to participate in the social contract.  

I find it funny that their Q mantra is WWG1WGA - Where we go one, we go all.  That is literally what we have been trying to achieve.  We are each one person, but if we had all gone forward together with a focus and a goal, we all could have come out the other end of this pandemic.  As it is, we have now charted 33,650,017 cases - a full 10% of our population.  We have also lost 599,108 people (although we know from experts that number is easily hundreds of thousands higher).  Experts also have explained that we could have avoided over 400,000 of those deaths had we been led by an administration of competent, science embracing, public servants.

400,000 people dead because we were held hostage by a cabal of self serving, self dealing, money grubbing, ignorant, trust fund losers who had zero idea what they were doing.  That truly is the legacy of the Trump badministration.  The stain they will all wear, the reality they cannot be permitted to escape.  I literally shudder to think where we would be, how many more would be dead, had that pompous pumpkin managed to remain in office another four years.

Then I look at how very far we have come since Biden and Harris and their team filled with intellect, scientists, experts, experience, and humility took office.  Vaccines rolled out at an incredible pace, exceeding their own best predictions, hopes, and promises.  Children as young as 12 now being given the all-clear to receive the shots.  As of yesterday, 46.23% of our population have received at least one shot.

That is incredible.  But it is still not good enough.  Our ability to truly create herd immunity, to start to breathe mask-freely, to get closer to the end of this dark tunnel is being thwarted by the idiots, dolts, and dimbulbs who continue to spread their bullshit like rancid cream cheese on the moldy bagels of one another's minds.  And with each passing day, they pull more shit from their anal cavities and shape it into even more outlandish scenarios and lies.

The latest is that getting near anyone who has been vaccinated will endanger their reproductive capabilities.  Apparently, even though the last science class they took was back in 9th grade, and they barely passed that, they have divined that we vaccinated types should be avoided "because they shed the mRNA stuff?”  Not making that up.  

mRNA stuff.  They have obviously gotten their medical degrees from an ad in the back of Archie comics next to the others ads for sea monkeys and X-ray Specs.

So, all along they have whined about mask wearing - that their liberties were being taken, that requiring masks is akin to the Holocaust, and that real men don't wear them.  (Yes, because hubris and machismo and horseshit kept your jaundiced Julius Caesar so safe from contracting COVID.)  Now, they posit to one another that perhaps they need to start wearing masks to protect themselves from us, the squalid, mRNA stuff leaking, 5G chip implanted, science appreciative throng.

(Font chosen on purpose.  If ever a man personified Comic Sans, it's this specimen of impeccable taste and flair.) 

The irony would be hilarious ... if any of them knew what the word irony meant.

Their mask mania comes at the same time that the CDC has declared the fully vaccinated need not continue wearing masks in most indoor situations.

Their statement, released yesterday, caused a mixture of elation, sighs of relief, and consternation among those of us who have rolled our sleeves twice.  Yes, the news is great, and the science and evidence is ever evolving - as is the case with all science - but the hesitancy we feel is real, and will also need time to evolve.

We have not simply gotten used to wearing them when we leave our houses, we understand the direct correlation between their place on our faces and the fact flu season came and went with a whimper, we have (largely) avoided coronavirus transmission, and pests like the common cold have been dramatically cut in numbers.  We can do that math, we can draw the line from one to the other.  And we feel safer.

So will we all suddenly drop our masks and reveal our faces to the world again?  Probably not.  With fake vaccine cards and fake COVID test results proliferating,  no true way to know who has/has not been vaccinated, and the fact that most of us know the difference between 100% effective and 95% effective, I suspect masks will be around for quite a while.

The biggest reality is that the vaccines are not foolproof.  We can still contract COVID.  But with the vaccine onboard, our chances of hospitalization, of deep throating a ventilator for weeks, or of dying are minimal.  We are seeing this daily.  Look at the Yankees.  They currently have 8 COVID positive players, all fully vaccinated, but only one is symptomatic, none are critically ill.  Bill Maher, whose mouth has run on and on throughout this pandemic?  Also a breakthrough infection.  Even though he is fully vaccinated, he popped up positive yesterday.  Positive but not on death's door.

That, dear Facebook physicians of the world, is the power of vaccines.  No one is saying you won't still get COVID, but you won't die from it if you do.

And no, your reproductive organs will not fall off in the face of Pfizer or molt after Moderna.  But here's some science for you manly men who don't need no stinkin' masks.   The evidence continues to mount (all pun intended) that COVID-19 could damage one's ability to maintain an erection.

I'll pause while you cross your legs.

Yes, you weak minded wankers, not one, but TWO scientific papers have now been published, from two different continents, indicating flaccid, floppy, and uncooperative equipment are just a few long lasting side effects of COVID. 

One of the papers, titled Mask It Up To Keep It Up explains, COVID-19 damages the cardiovascular system and therefore could be linked to blood vessel diseases which result in erectile issues. Second, both ED and COVID-19 also tended to be more severe and more prevalent in men with diabetes, hypertension and obesity.

Even the most cursory look at any recent rally, insurrection, mask protest, or aggressive caught-on-tape video moment of you great thinkers shows you have conquered the concept of "lockdown" for at least those last three things. 

And from the Salon article ...

Now a new study in the "World Journal of Men's Health" reveals that COVID-19 can remain in penile tissue long after male victims recover from the worst symptoms of their illness. When COVID-19 infections cause a blood vessel dysfunction known as endothelial dysfunction, it can damage the tissues that receive their blood supply from the malfunctioning small vessels. That, in turn, means that the penis may not be able to get erect if it has been infected with COVID-19.

Researchers from the University of Miami Miller School of Medicine say that their study found men who previously did not suffer from erectile dysfunction but developed it severely after their COVID-19 infection.

Funny, isn't it?  You're worried that standing next to me - all Pfizered up - will compromise your manhood, yet you literally dare COVID to find you, thus compromising your manhood.

Will someone make it make sense, please?

You know what, don't waste your time.

As for me, I will continue masking up as I have done for over a year.  Not because I do not believe the CDC, I do.  I believe their latest directive, and I believe their cautions regarding those who may be immunocompromised.  My sister just began chemotherapy yesterday.  16 treatments that will take her into mid-September.  Her body's ability to protect herself from anything will be seriously altered.  I will wear my mask so I can continue to interact with her and keep her safe. 

Because there is no way of knowing who has or has not stepped up, been responsible.  No 100% protection promised.  No certainty that some limp dicked COVIDiot won't infect me.

This pandemic is not over.  We added 40,000 new cases and lost 791 more lives yesterday.  So far today we have added 24,000 new cases and lost an additional 510 lives.  COVID-19 is very much alive, mutating, spreading, and killing.

The mask is now your choice.  Do it for yourself.  Do it for your loved ones.  Do it for compromised neighbors or strangers.  Do it for your dicks.  If nothing else, for the love of God, do it for the sea monkeys.  They've suffered at our hands enough.

In loving memory of the millions of sea monkeys who perished in the 70s because our mothers stupidly gave us a dollar, an envelope, and a stamp.

 

525,600 Minutes x 29

Like so many theater students and buffs, if asked how many minutes make up a year - a question that would stump the layperson and require a calculator - I can immediately sing the answer.

Seasons of Love from the musical Rent lays it out beautifully.  525,600 minutes.  Ticks of the clock that glide by largely unnoticed, busy as we always are with the business of living, working, and these days, surviving.

Since this morning, that song has been playing on my mental turntable as I sit amazed, bemused, in awe that our oldest child turns 29 today.  And so...

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure,
Measure a year?

In daylights?

You came into this world just as daylight was breaking on the horizon.  5:08am, on Mother's Day, no less.  After an exhausting night of contractions, exclamations, and anticipation, no dawn had ever shone so brightly.  You took our breath away.  Beautiful, aware of everything, and suddenly our world came together in a way we had not known it could.  In the space of one push, many tears, 7.5 pounds, and your first breath -  You made him a Dad.  You made me a Mom.  You made us a family.

In sunsets?

From morning's light to the last rays of the sun at night, you made our days wider, deeper, and more meaningful than they had ever been before.  Sure, we loved one another before you, but your arrival set in motion something so much deeper, purer, and profound than either of us had ever known.  Sunsets were when he would come home from work and claim you, filling his arms and his heart with what they had been missing since morning.  Sunsets were also when you began your war cries (colic), and you and I spent countless nights watching the sun go down and the brightly colored chickens roam the Kauai backyard.  The chickens held a magical sway over you that I could not match.  You would watch them and stop crying.

In midnights?

While there have been many late nights in our time together - three stand out.  You were a night terror toddler.  Many midnights erupted in tears and screaming from you, worry and fear from us.  We quickly learned that while it look horrific, and you appeared fully awake, there was no one home.  With each midnight terror, your dad and I took turns doing the only thing that worked - holding you tightly until it stopped, your tiny body went limp, and you fell fully back into a peaceful sleep.  You never remembered them in the morning, but we will never forget understanding that our embrace was powerful enough to soothe you.

Then there was the time you sleep walked all the way down three sets of stairs and wound up at our bedside frantically looking for your duck.  You didn't have a duck, real or stuffed.  I still smile when I think of your somnambulistic insistence, however.

Finally, I will never forget the midnight we spent together in the hospital when you were in high school.  You had crawled to my bedside and with your sister's help (and her hilarious choice of the "I'm not dead yet" t-shirt she put on you), I got you to the car and to the ER.  While it ended up being something manageable, we passed the night with our trademark dark humor, bad puns, and the observations that 1.) it is impossible for someone to sit on the doctor's rolling stool and attempt to put her head on the bed without her ass sliding back repeatedly, and 2.) 3:00 o'clock happens twice a day and we were awake for both.

In cups of coffee?

I have never claimed to be Mom of the Year, and the fact that I introduced you to Frappucinos when you were 15 months old probably speaks to my nomination form being forever lost in the mail, but I still smile thinking about that trip to Boston.  You had just learned how to suck from a straw.  So with my first ever Starbucks purchase in hand, I let you give it a whirl.  We shared our first Frappucino together.  And the awards committee can eff all the way off because we made a memory, and have enjoyed countless Frappucinos through the years.

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?

We moved you a lot.  Kauai to Toledo (thanks Iniki), Toledo to Dallas. Dallas to Olathe, Olathe to San Diego, San Diego to Bend, Bend to Dallas, Dallas to Austin.  You weathered the miles, the changes, the adjustments beautifully, making it not only easier on us, but insuring your siblings understood it was OK, that home was wherever we were all together.  That doesn't mean the miles were without the challenges.  Thank you for adding the laughter I needed so very much when we entered the "10 year 3 month" phase of "him there, us here."  You knew, you saw beneath the surface that no matter how he and I tried to make it all seem easy, it was incredibly hard.  Thank you for enduring the strife, for understanding why he went away to work so that you and your sibs could finally feel stable in one place, could fully immerse in your school, your friend circle, your community.  And thank you for listening to us both through that decade - conversations that never should have landed on your young shoulders, but conversations you willingly accepted and loved us both through.  When I catch you watching us hug, kiss, hold hands, and lean into one another, I know you, out of anyone on this planet, understand the journey, the struggles, and the miracle of where we are today. 

In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a year in a life?

Your life, your 29 years have been filled with growth, highs, lows, love, loss, achievements, laughter and tears.  Through them all you have persevered.  Setbacks were handled with grace beyond your years.  Heartbreak was faced down and led you to where you are today - in the embrace of an incredible man who was out there enduring his own worst years, waiting for the universe to reveal the purpose of it all.  And the purpose of it all - every tear, every fear, every lonely moment, every uncertainty - was YOU for HIM, and HIM for YOU.   

November is coming and your wedding will be even sweeter for the roadblocks, speedbumps, and potholes COVID has thrown in your path.  But these, too, you have managed with your trademark grace, humor, and style.  

Today I am home from our wonderful weekend with you and Sean and Dad in Las Vegas.  Doing laundry, cleaning, scooping the liter box - all the things that will mix into the 525,600 minutes of 2021.  But I am also swept away into the memories of the past 29 years with you.  You have added immeasurably to our lives - to your Dad's, to Kendall's, to Toby's - but especially to mine.  You saved me in the beginning and have buoyed me through the years.  You know how I think, can finish my sentences, and understand the simple and stupid joy in watching Cocktail together for the 50th time.  Drink in hand.  Oh, and why taking this picture seemed perfectly natural to us both.

How do you measure 29 years in a life?

How about love?

Happy Birthday, Culley.  I love you, Mom