The Agony of Denial
Tag Archives: COVID
The New Dunce Confederates
The great thing about professional sports is that they allow for vilification. Only in sport are we permitted to assign a name, number, even identifying color to help put a human face on villainy.
Yankee pinstripes. Celtic shamrocks. How ‘bout them Cowboys?
Now, say hello to the new knave: the unvaccinated jock. No need to hate them for their mascot. Now you can hate them for their mindset.
Normally, we cut these wont wits some slack. After all, they bounce balls and hurl sticks for a living. Find one that isn’t raging on steroids, beating on a loved one or selling their soul for home, life and auto insurance, and we’re talking political office.
Which may explain the latest degradation in American athletics. Because there’s no other way to describe the corrosive effect these athletes are having on the the very sport they claim to love and represent. Never mind the health of fans who cluster to watch them perform Stupid Human Tricks — or the “teammates” trying to do the same thing. The unvaccinated have become the new libertarians of the sports world.
In the spirit of ferreting fools, here are some of the most notable unvaccinated athletes:
Aaron Rodgers
Rodgers is the most recent famous athlete to make headlines because of being unvaccinated. After saying that he was “immunized” against the virus despite not receiving the vaccine, he tested positive in early November. So Aaron: Don’t think of yourself as having gotten your ass kicked in the playoffs Sunday. Think of it as being immunized from the Super Bowl again.
Novak Djokovic
Currently ranked the No.1 player in the world by the Association of Tennis Professionals, Djokovic has refused to disclose his vaccination status. He was deported back to his home in Serbia after trying to compete in the Australian Opening this month despite the country’s pandemic protocols. Hopefully France sends him packing again for the French Open.
Anthony Rizzo
When he played with the Chicago Cubs, Anthony Rizzo chose not to get vaccinated because he was “taking some more time to see the data.” He then tested positive for COVID in August after having been traded to the Yankees. When he was asked about his vaccination status again at the end of August, he said, “I just had COVID, so they say for three months I’m kinda in the clear, so I think after that it will be the time to really make the decision again.” The MLB doesn’t currently have a vaccination mandate for players.
Kyrie Irving
The NBA doesn’t have a mandatory vaccine policy either, but New York’s vaccine policy requires players be vaccinated in order to play or practice indoors. Brooklyn’s Irving, who refuses vaccination, can only play in away games in cities that do not have COVID mandates. Desperate for success, the Nets use him as road show attraction. Kind of like a carnival without the wisdom of carnies.
Cole Beasley
Cole Beasley has had A LOT to say — on Twitter and in person — about the NFL’s vaccination policy and COVID protocols, but it all boils down to the same thing: He’s unvaccinated and wishes to remain as such. He eventually deleted his Twitter account after posting, “I may die of COVID, but I’d rather die actually living.” Wait, what?
Much has been made about whether the unvaccinated — particularly vociferous anti-vaxxers — should be ridiculed when they fall to the virus. The question became contentious after the death of GOP figure and anti-vaxxer Kelly Ernby died from COVID earlier this month.
(Ben Chapman)
And it’s hardly just athletes and politicians. Celebrities from Jim Carrey to Charlie Sheen to Alicia Silverstone proudly wear the anti-vax sash. Carrey once said he does not opt into “the C.D.C. agenda.” Do all of those people — and nearly half the nation, by most accounts — deserve scorn, ridicule, mockery?
Sadly, yes.
There are only two types of Americans who are not vaccinated in this pandemic: People who cannot get a vaccine, for economic or physical reasons; and those who will not.
Those in the first category deserve our sympathy and help, at all costs. This is America, goddamnit.
Those in the second category, misled by disinformation and misinformation, simply must be shunned. Were this, say, leprosy, would we be so welcoming of those willing to put the populace at existential risk?
America’s unvaccinated are the equivalent of smokers demanding the right to light up at the daycare center. Only worse: COVID is lung cancer you catch in a cough and die in a sneeze. If dimwits don’t want to vaccinate their kids — against COVID, polio, mumps, etc., — that’s their choice. Americans have a right to be wrong.
Just don’t visit your wrongheadedness upon the rest of the nation. If you’re a science-denier mid-pandemic, maybe America isn’t for you. So, if you’d be so kind, please let the door hit you in the ass on your way out to the grave, because my boot won’t reach that far.
Open Letter from a Guinea Pig
I got my fourth vaccine in five months today.
It was a random occurrence and a second thought. I went to CVS to pick up a vital, overpriced immunosuppressant. The store was empty (note to self: pick up CVS crap on a Tuesday, Sept. 7, around 11 a.m.)
There was one customer, and he was wrapping up. The cashier asked a question in auto-tone and surely corporate-obliged:
“Do you want a flu shot?” she said.
“For covid?” he said.
“No, the flu,” she said.
“No thanks,” he said.
When I got to the register, I paid for my overpriced med. The cashier did not ask me any questions.
“Hey, are you giving flu vaccines? I said.
“Yes,” she said. “The pharmacist is at the end of the counter.”
We finished, and I walked to the end of the counter. A pharmacist was wearing a right wrist guard and was struggling with the geometry of the keyboard.
“May I help you?” she said. Her eyes never lifted from the computer screen while her wrist jigsawed on a mousepad.
“I’m here for the flu shot,” I said.
We went through the formalities: ID and waivers.
Two men arrived behind me.
“You here for vaccines?” she called over my shoulder.
“Covid,” one man said.
“Both,” the other said.
“Take these forms,” she said, handing out waivers and clipboards. “I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”
She leaned over the counter. “Have a seat over there,” she said. “I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”
One man sighed, dropped the clipboard in a chair and walked off. The second took a seat, but kept standing to watch what was taking the pharmacist, perhaps, 10 minutes. He would pick up a box of Nyquil as if to read the label, but his eyes never left her.
I, too, was wondering, but I could see what she was doing from my seat: She was typing as if she were working on a college term paper that was due 10minutesago. Then, she got keys to unlock a safe that held a container — that contained a sealed envelope — that held a syringe.
I imagine all of those steps required clearance.
While she harried, two more customers arrived.
By the time she came out from the counter, the line was four-long.
“Man,” I said, “a second ago it was deserted.”
“People go into a drugstore like they’re going to a restaurant,” she said. “They expect it to be as quick as ordering food. But some days, I might have two customers, or I might have two dozen. You have to be patient.”
Today’s first learned lesson: A patient must be patient. The second: Remember first names.
The third: I think I’ve stumbled upon a middle ground between the vaccinated and the vaccine-hesitant.
To the latter: I hereby volunteer as your guinea pig.
I realized on the drive home from CVS: I have been an emoji for science since I was 13 and caught Type I Diabetes. Add a double-transplant chaser, and it’s a miracle I haven’t grown a vestigial test tube.
But as goes fortune, so goes fate.
So, for the record: I got the Pfizer vaccine on March 3, 2021, followed by the second vaccine two weeks later.
On August 21, I received a third Pfizer vaccine, the booster recommended by the CDC for immunocompromised people.
Today, got the flu vaccine. I type with a slightly sore left arm, as doped as a Russian Olympic team.
I have no plans to report from the vaccine front. That gets old. And I’m not going to preach vaccinations. I’m no match for confirmation bias.
But I can be a pig. Just ask my mom.
Or a canary.
Or whatever t-shirt, badge, bracelet or emblem required to stand in league with science. I gladly don it, whatever comes.
I make this post public, but to those who know me, a favor: If I keel over from pincushioning, let people know. Everyone. Please, be merciless. And funny; there’s not enough funny. And please be honest.
If the vaccines are safe and effective, no need to do anything. I’ll be around, braying about important matters like Jadie’s birthday or bowel schedule — or here giving thumbs-ups like Roger Ebert on a sugar high.
I understand the hesitancy to get a shot from the government. The FDA has rushed medicine to the market, and who trusts a Fauci-type with forms to sign and needles to inject and worry to impart?
I do.
Now, where’s that exercise wheel?
