I’m sort of delighted to report that most of you claim to be bearing up better than we are. A certain number of outright failures wrote in, too. I can’t say they made me feel better. How did so many find the chutzpah to cheat on their lovers during a pandemic?
One guy reported that his wife ran off with their kids to Canada, presumably with another man. He didn’t have a particular rival in mind, so I have to wonder if she left on her own. What makes this guy certain she ran off with a dude, or even a woman?
Her choice isn’t very patriotic, but things might be better in socialist Canada: If you can’t get doctors to look at you, they may as well be free.
Since the insurance from my last full-time job ran out, I’ve paid doctors as needed. I have friends who fork out $1,300 a month to HMOs that can’t guarantee they’ll get treatment for anything. Should they stop paying? No way! If they survive, they’d have to get insured all over again and any active medical problems would be pre-existing conditions not covered till the government effectively mandates it. (That’s my status, of course: I’ll never recover financially if I catch the flu and need hospitalization.)
To be fair, Canada’s government has reportedly been decent to foreigners caught there when the pandemic broke out. They have access to medical attention and food, both of which are said to circulate better than they do here. Canada domestically produces more than enough vaccine for its population and it orders vaccine the instant a pandemic looms. That's because the U.S. completely stiffed our Northern neighbors back in 1976 amid panic about a swine flu emergency that never quite materialized.
Perhaps my reader’s errant wife hooked up with Dudley Do-Right, his Mountie saddlebags laden with Relenza and caribou jerky.
I have received sinister emails about my own circumstance. Not the Ayn Rand followers who scold me for committing the crime of altruism—giving personal protective gear to people I don’t know. That’s easy to defend: The transaction was in my pure, selfish interest. I live here. Chaos is bad for me. Not to mention that if everyone dies, who’ll buy my masks?
No, it’s advice about Nina. One guy urges me to check the surfing history on Nina’s iMac. I won’t say it’s not tempting.
But listen, see—for me to assume that no one is spying on me, I have to leave other people alone. That’s my Silver Rule: Don’t do unto others what you don’t want them to do unto you. Kindly shove those suspicions up your cache.
I’m truly glad the flu seems to be abating. Demand for my products will remain keen as people reload their stockpiles—or expand them. Don’t cry for me, America.
Nina does plenty of that. I remain clueless. I sure wonder where she went that day.