It comes for us all

As my friend and colleague Grace says, it comes for us all.

I was starting to feel invincible. And why not? I’m vaxxed to the max, with the exception of the very latest update. I’ve gone through four years and God knows how many variants of covid without getting it. I was beginning to think maybe I was one of those rare humans whose immune system just took it out before I even knew it was there. When I’ve been informed by friends who came down with it that I was unintentionally exposed, it never laid a glove on me.

It comes for us all.

Last week I was in Sunnyvale on business. Felt great the whole time I was there. When I flew back Thursday I was a little fatigued, but chalked it up to not sleeping well in hotel rooms. I tested Thursday afternoon, then again Friday morning. Both negative.

But Friday was a really bad day. I felt like Wile E. Coyote after the anvil hit him in the head. Saturday morning’s test, as you can see, was positive.

It comes for us all.

I forgot to mention that the wife has it right now as well. She thought she had a slight cold when I left for my trip, and during the trip tested positive. So maybe I picked it up from her and it was incubating while I was away.

Marriage, amIrite?

I can’t take Paxlovid because it conflicts in a big way with another med I’m on. So I’m taking Lagevrio, another anti-viral that doesn’t have the bad interaction, but is about fifty-percent less effective. I’ll take it. Something’s better than nothing.

Doctors tell me I still have to isolate from my wife because she may have a different strain, and her viral load may be higher.

By the way, Viral Load. Great band. Saw them at the Troubadour in ’98. (You’re welcome Rich).

Alright, going back to my daughter’s old bedroom where I’ve been isolating, and going to finish watching Season 3 of The Bear. Again.

Should you catch it, and I genuinely hope you don’t, just lay low. Fluids and rest, fluids and rest, fluids and rest. Also Robitussen and Advil. And don’t feel bad about it.

It comes for us all.

Bombs away

It doesn't take much to figure out what the incoming administration's foreign policy will be.

Speak loudly, in incomplete sentences that make no sense, repeat words like "tremendously" and "bigly" several times, make it sound like total gibberish and carry a big stick.

If you can lift it with those tiny baby hands.

It's clear that with this dipshit elect we're stuck with, whoever looks at us the wrong way, or tweets something he doesn't like is going to get what's coming to them. There's nothing subtle about it. It's right there in the open, almost mob-like in its approach.

"Hey Angela Merkel, noticed you didn't agree with me on Paris climate change agreement. You know, Germany's a nice country. Be a shame somethin' happened to it."

He's a humorless, thin-skinned bully and a thug. And his sons Uday and Qusay are no better.

What I find interesting is way back in 1972, whether it was a premonition, prediction or some other word that starts with a "P", Randy Newman called it. Forty-five years ago he basically laid out in song what the dipshit elect's foreign policy is going to look like.

Back then it was a funny, harmless, politically astute song with a catchy melody that had anyone who heard it singing along on the first listen.

I've seen Randy Newman many times over the years, everywhere from the Troubadour to Royce Hall at UCLA. I've always loved him, and it's still a great song.

It's just not so funny anymore.