Last summer, I kept asking people at the NIH what the plan was for the covid variant, Bubba.

What variant.

There had to be a variant. And that variant could only survive to reproduce if we let our guard down too early. That puts us right smack dab where we used to be. Only the variant is far more dangerous. Our little local hospital had just released its last covid patient. Everyone in town wanted to party.

Not so fast.

Unvaccinated folks are arriving in droves to the ER.

What are you people, twelve.

We undoubtedly created the variant ourselves by a series of half-measures we didn’t really believe in, and you were getting tired of the whole viral dog and pony show. Now, the variant. This is now a virus that can cause you to have on-going treatments – which is like a collection of side effects, and at the NIH, what they’re looking at is probably for the rest of your life. Neurology does not escape inspection. I want to know how it is that the vaccine deniers can put the rest of us in such a vulnerable spot. Exactly who do they think they are. Their right to flaunt their individualism ends at my front door.

“You do not possess the right to dictate our behavior.”

What about our right to be healthy.

“You don’t have a right to tell us what to do just like you did with cigarettes.” Yada, yada, yada. My eyes to the sky. We need to butch up with all the crazy demands, and gather the fire extinguishers. When the deniers come to work in the morning, we will have to force deniers to be totally foamed naked, and that means foamed at the mouth, too. Bartenders will have to spray all the local alcoholics, and then they get one free watered down drink, and not a big one.