. . . is the easiest thing I've ever done.
I sit on a chair.
I roll up my sleeve.
A nurse does the hard part.
No pain.
No side effects.
A letdown, really.
I was hoping the jab would transform me into a raging mutant who can only be calmed down by copious amounts of avocado toast.
And then I could have all sorts of merchandising deals.
Make mountains of cash as a pro-wrastler.
Star in a dopey reality television show that would be avidly followed by an audience of dumbfucks-which is how that sort of thing ALWAYS works.
Maybe I could get an edgy podcast where I could talk about lifting weights and being abducted by UFOs. "Bro, my probe game is on point, bro." Then I could smoke weed live on the mic. Hi, Mom.
Nope.
No side effects.
Just an incredibly incremental step towards herd immunity.
No bells.
No whistles.
No narcissistic showbiz maneuvers.
No bullshit.
Just the thing itself.
Sighs elaborately.
I guess that'll have to do . . .
