Jab Talking

I’m half-vaccinated. They were dispensing the two-dose Pfizer vaccine at the Morial Convention Center here in New Orleans. The P is silent in Pfizer but I insist on pronouncing it just to be annoying. Puh-fizer has a ring to it, doesn’t it?

I also insist on calling a shot a jab as they do in woody old England. Does that make me as annoying as Bertie Wooster? A question for the ages.

The needle was larger than the one wielded above by Richard Widmark in Panic In The Streets, but the woman who stuck me was skilled. It didn’t hurt. I’m glad it wasn’t another early Widmark character, Tommy Udo in Kiss Of Death or this might have happened:

Yeah, I know, there were no stairs involved. What’s a little artistic license among friends?

Trivia time: It was the same hall that the Antique Roadshow used when they were in town. That was when I learned that my vintage autographed Giants baseballs were stamped, not signed. I was mildly crushed since Carl Hubbell himself gave them to me. Oh well, what the hell.

My left arm is a bit sore post-jab. I’ve also had some mild side effects including lethargy and dizziness.

Speaking of dizzy, let’s move from film noir to bubblegum with this musical interlude:

I’m not sure that the world needed a 6:31 remix of Dizzy but who am I to argue with DJ Disco Cat and Bubblegum Purrfection. I am a cat person, after all.

I am, of course, making light of the vaccination process because I want everyone to relax and get jabbed as soon as possible. It’s what I do, making light, not jabbing.

I am, however, a bit nervous about the After Times and you may be too. That’s why I commend to your attention a WaPo piece by Dr. Lucy McBride: I’ve been yearning for an end to the pandemic. Now that it’s here, I’m a little afraid.

McBride captures the anxieties and apprehension many of us feel. I have them too I just hide them with a flurry of jokes and musical interludes.

Finally, I wrote this about my vaccination appointment in Saturday Odds & Sods:

I’m a bit nervous and uncertain as to which vaccine I’ll be getting. I’m fine with any of them. The one-shot J&J variant has considerable appeal because I hate needles. Here’s hoping I get jabbed by someone with a light touch. Just don’t give me a smiley faced Band-Aid. I hope that’s not too much to ask.

They did fine with the vaccine, the jabbing, and the Band-Aid, but they gave everyone smiley face masks. I hate anything with a smiley face. It’s off-brand. A friend of mine said that he tried wearing it upside down, but it fell off. Oh well, what the hell.

Anyway, y’all get jabbed ASAP. If you’re still not eligible, signup pronto. It’s important. Try watching some knockabout comedy before and after like I did. Did I just propose myself as a role model? A scary thought indeed.

The last word goes to the Bee Gees. Just substitute jab for jive and Bob’s your uncle:

Shouldn’t that be Barry, Robin, or Maurice is your uncle? And why do the Brits pronounce Maurice, Morris? Another question for the ages.

2 thoughts on “Jab Talking

  1. Widmark was a great crazy. In his own way, so was Barry Gibb. Just sayin’.

  2. They pronounce it Morris to avoid the guitar lick from The Joker intruding. And for the record, I’ve always regarded you as annoying as Bertie Wooster.

    Unsolicited free advice, and worth every penny: Schedule NOTHING for the day after your second shot. Mrs. gratuitous and others have reported the day after the second shot as being the equivalent of death warmed over. But about Jab+36 hours you can expect to be feeling like your old self (if that’s something to be desired).

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