COVID Strikes

August 28, 2022

COVID Strikes

COVID Strikes

Mark Rubin

My COVID Stuff

My first positive COVID test appeared on Saturday, August 27, 2022. Roughly 30 months after we first learned about this rotten virus.

I traveled to Rochester NY on Tuesday to meet my new granddaughter, Estée Ora. First grandchild, by the way, and a lovely little girl who will be four weeks old on Monday morning. Call me smitten … and angry about my diagnosis.

My flight on Southwest Airlines arrived on time. No luggage issues. Unfortunately, most of the people on the plane did not see fit to wear masks. And, especially on the Phoenix to Chicago flight, the constant coughing and sneezing had me expecting a positive diagnosis. Obviously, I can prove nothing and, in the end, how I got the virus matters not at all. I have done the right things, along: vaccinated and double-boosted and always wearing a mask in public. Still, I have been lucky but luck ends, always!

Our World: What Happened?

My plight aside, I do not understand too many of my fellow Americans. I don’t understand not wearing a mask, especially where you are spewing germs continuously in a contained environment. More broadly, why do tens of millions of Americans stand by Former Guy, who claims a lawfully issued and served search warrant was a raid? Who tells us the government planted the documents it took in connection with serving the search warrant. Who alleges he declassified all of the documents and never told anyone, despite the fact the people can violate the Espionage Act without having classified documents. A guy who tells us the documents the government planted, that Former Guy had declassified, belong to him and not to us, as the people of these United States.

(This same Former Guy, by the way, egged on his supporters who threatened to kill the best public health official this country has ever had.)

I wish I knew what happened. Maybe a bunch of people lost their sh*t over the election of an African-American president. Or, Burger King’s Have It Your Way ad campaign – from 50 years ago – reflected and advanced a line of thinking that allows for My Way Or The Highway, amped up the nth. Maybe, though, it’s all just plain broken and not really fixable. For sure, the public champions for the But Freedom folks won’t fix anything. That’s you, Former Guy, and Ron DeSantis and Ted Cruz and Hawley and Cotton and Boebert and Taylor Greene.

I tried to visit a newborn, 30 months after this pandemic started. I’m very privileged; that helped me avoid the virus until last week. (By the way, my spreader candidate – the guy right across the aisle – had plenty going on for him, too. Expensive shoes and slacks. A golf shirt with a country club logo. And an entitled mien. Our differences? I wore a mask, and I did not cough or sneeze constantly.)


Rant aside, I am blessed. A healthy, beautiful granddaughter who eats constantly. Great parents: calm, attentive, and loving! By the way, I got a dose of parenting today, too. Cate shopped for me and Zack delivered me from my hotel – barely adequate for sleeping, and not where I want to spend my Q-time – to a lovely Airbnb. I’ve also got a partner I love dearly who keeps my boy Max, and she and others help me manage my obligations.

Be well, all!

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