For all those folks who have given me guff about having the Chinkvirus vaccine, here’s the deal:
I want to travel again, and soon. If having the fucking jab means I get to travel again without having to “self-isolate” or any of that nonsense upon arrival, here’s my arm. Ditto New Wife, who feels as I do.
Corollary #1: New Wife is suffering from Extreme Grandchild Deprivation. By the time she can travel to see and hold them (all for the first time), it will be in June. Rule #1: never get in Nana’s way when it comes to grandkids.
Corollary #2: Somehow, some way, I want to get Over There so I can shoot birds with my friend Mr. Free Market later this year / before I die (whichever is appropriate). As Britishland is in the grips of profound Chinkvirus hysteria, a vaccination certificate may alleviate their silliness and give me a fighting chance.
I’m sick and tired of having to wear a stupid, ineffective face condom. Anything that allows me to tell the Mask Stasi Karens to fuck off is welcome in my body.
Given my lifestyle and health, the odds of me dying from Chinkvirus anyway have always been breathtakingly slim. The vaccine isn’t for me; it’s for everybody else.
I don’t give any credence to how the vaccination program is just another government trap to do something or other to me. I heard all those whines when they decided to put fluoride into the public water supply . Not one of those fears proved to be worth a damn back then, and this one is going to be the same.
All of which says one simple thing: I’m not telling everyone to get the Chinkvirus shot; nor am I telling anyone not to get the poxy [sic] jab. I’m letting everyone make their own decision, for their own reasons and their own purposes.
Kindly allow me to do the same. I’ve taken far greater risks with my life before.
And if it ends up killing me rather than saving me, them’s the breaks.