Shots & stupid stimulus

America’s IRS website tells me they mailed another Kung Flu stimulus check in my direction three days ago. I am vociferously opposed to this irresponsible nonsense of mailing cash willy-nilly all over the place with no regard for whether a person needs the money or not, whether a person has been financially harmed by the Kung Flu hysteria or not.

America is already drowning in debt, getting worse by the day. And it’s sending me money, a person who has not been financially harmed in any way whatsoever by the pandemic. It’s absurd and irresponsible.

The check in the mail is the third stimulus payment. I did not get the first one due to some bureaucratic reason, and I don’t care, but I did get the second one, which I cashed here. What else was I to do? Mail it back? Boy, that would have confused them. So I cashed it here in spite of my thinking it is unseemly.*

And if the third payment makes it through the Mexican mail system, I’ll cash it too. Perhaps I’ll use it to pay for the cataract surgery on my other eye, which is still pending, even though I am perfectly capable of using my own money for that.

Speaking of unseemly, the Gringos on our local internet forum are all a’twitter at the “free” money coming their way. They just cannot wait to get their hands on it.

Most are Democrats, of course. Unseemly, I tell you.

Speaking of the Kung Flu hysteria, I have decided not to get the vaccine, assuming it ever appears in my neck of the woods because Mexico’s distribution system is a poorly organized mess. I have decided to dodge the shot for a number of reasons.

One is that the pandemic is clearly winding down, as they always do. Two is that most cases are relatively mild. And very few people die. Yes, I am old, but I have no serious health issues and that’s almost always what kills people who catch the Kung Flu.

And also, the vaccine was a rush job. I am not an “anti-vaxxer.” I get the flu vaccine every year. I’ve received lots of vaccines. I welcome vaccines, but not rush jobs.

And when has a disease ever separated along political lines? In the United States, why are Democrat-run states trying to destroy private enterprise and Republican-run states much less so? Why are you far more free in Florida and South Dakota than you are in California, Michigan and Wisconsin? We’re living in a surreal world.

Something very strange is happening.

Looking only at Mexico with a population of about 130 million, to date, confirmed cases amount to 1.7 percent of the population. Deaths amount to 0.16 percent of the population. Those are really low numbers. And our pandemic is winding down noticeably.

What pushed me over the edge on the vaccine issue was a video I saw a few days ago, a speech delivered by Dr. Simone Gold who is also an attorney and founder of an organization named America’s Frontline Doctors. The video is about an hour long but well worth watching, especially if you’re still vaccine-free.

Back to the political aspect of the Kung Flu hysteria: Big Tech, mainstream media, showbiz, etc., have all gone to extremes to censor contrary opinions about the pandemic. Dr. Gold’s video was, of course, deleted from YouTube, but it’s available on Brighteon, one of a number of newer video channels dedicated to freedom of opinion.

To see Dr. Gold’s extremely impressive resumé, go here and scroll to the bottom. In spite of her sterling credentials, since she disagrees with the obligatory narrative surrounding the Kung Flu, she has been slandered by Big Tech and the leftist media.

And I don’t wear face masks either, except when it’s required to walk into a store. On the streets hereabouts, you can stroll mask-free with scant interference because Mexicans mind their own business. It’s just one more advantage of living in a free society.

* By cashed, I mean a money exchange gave me “real money,” i.e. Mexican pesos.

Double dose of dumb

e0f7347666a56586aafd709fd84353ab--pirate-flags-vinyl-cutterI’VE BEEN SWEATING lead-capped, high-caliber, silver bullets for three weeks, and here’s the reason why:

On the afternoon of March 28, I was sitting on the plaza downtown at a sidewalk table outside my sister-in-law’s coffee shop. Out walk a niece, her common-law husband and their daughter, Romina, who is two years old.

Go kiss your Uncle Felipe, the niece said, as her “husband” gave Romina a little urging in my direction, so over she trotted. I leaned over and planted one on her cute cheek.

I then asked where they were headed. To a doctor’s office, the mother replied. We think she has chickenpox … What! Internally, my head exploded. I was speechless. Unlike many people, likely most, I have never had chickenpox. So I am not immune.

While chickenpox is just a very itchy problem for kids, it’s quite a different matter for adults, and even more so for older adults, which is what I am. Among potential complications are pneumonia and encephalitis, swelling of the brain.

I ask myself, are these people living in the 19th century? Are they completely ignorant or just colossally irresponsible? I was dumbstruck and simultaneously angry on an epic scale. But I kept that to myself.

What I was facing was a cultural norm, a habit so deeply ingrained that it simply overrides all common sense. Coming and going, Latinos kiss friends and relatives, period. No matter what. It’s simply something you do.

I’ve lived with this for almost two decades. I’ve never liked it. I’m not a kissy person. I have little to no interest in kissing and hugging people aside from my child bride. But I’ve gone along with the custom, dodging it whenever I can.

I wish I’d dodged on March 28 because the child did have chickenpox.

That began three weeks of very sleepless nights, especially at the beginning. I learned online that chickenpox virus normally takes 10 to 21 days to incumbate in a new host, so you’re not out of the woods for three weeks.

But there is more. Further online investigation revealed that one can get the chickenpox vaccine after exposure. If you get it within three days, it reduces the probability of getting sick by 90 percent. Within five days, by 70 percent.

I liked those odds, so off I went to find the vaccine.

* * * *

Second dose of dumb

This was two days after the kiddie kiss. It was Saturday. Normally, I would have driven to the nearby capital city to the major hospital where we get our annual flu shots and whatever other vaccines are appropriate. But I was almost positive the vaccine office would not be open on a Saturday.

So I went to a government clinic here on the mountaintop where vaccines are available. It’s a humble spot on the outskirts of town. I was ushered into a small room where the door sported a sign that said Vaccines.

I explained my situation to the nice woman in there. She told me the chickenpox vaccine would not be available for another week or so. I responded something along the lines of:  Yipes! That’s not going to help me at all.

New ImageThat was when she went into another version of Latino Culture Mode, and that is to never say no. This trait is so widespread that it’s mentioned in virtually all tourist guidebooks.

Seeing that I was upset on hearing this, and I was, she decided to take a look into the fridge where vaccines were stored. And shocker! There it was. One sole, remaining dose of chickenpox vaccine. Whew! She gave me the shot.

Standard procedure here is to give the patient the label, or something, with the name of the vaccine. When I got home, I checked online about the shot she had given me. It was for measles, not chickenpox. I think the nurse knew this full well.

I think she just wanted to settle my mind. But what she had done was this: I had not received the chickenpox vaccine and, far worse, she had made it impossible to drive to the capital city on Monday to get the real deal.

Apparently, I learned, after receiving any anti-virus vaccine, one must wait at least six weeks before getting another. I was screwed in the vaccine department.

Were these cultural obsessions going to put me into the grave?

I sweated out the three weeks, which ended on Thursday. I did not get chickenpox. And I have announced to any relative within earshot that I am no longer available for kissing and hugging. They cannot be trusted.

And I’m still pissed off.