Last Licks 2020
Corona is making people crazy to varying degrees. Here’s another example from a snippet of an article at nypost.com: “A worker at a Wisconsin medical facility was fired for deliberately destroying over 500 doses of the COVID-19 vaccine.”
Here’s an eye-opening snippet from another NYP article: “In a recent paper titled Keeping Your Mouth Shut: Spiraling Self-Censorship in the United States, political scientists James L. Gibson and Joseph L. Sutherland reveal that self-censorship among Americans has soared…” 40% reported they didn’t feel free to speak their minds, compared to 13.4% during the McCarthy era.
Ronald Reagan once said: “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are: ‘I’m from the Government, and I’m here to help.’” This seems to apply to how slow the vaccine is being administered. In his op-ed piece today at NYP, Kyle Smith quipped that at the current pace it will take six years to get everyone vaccinated.
Interesting headline from foxnews.com that’s sure to irk certain activists: “How 2020 has revived the once-dying sport of hunting.”
The floating book shop needed a roof today, so I set up at the viaduct on Avenue Y, despite the fact that it has, for some strange reason, been very disappointing in terms of sales. The law of attraction had its work cut out for it on this rainy day, having to travel through the concrete and steel. While I waited for customers to get the message from the universe, a gregarious gentleman of about 60 noted the Russian books on display and addressed me in his native tongue. Even after I pleaded ignorance he kept talking. I kept shrugging. I had the feeling he’d had a drink or two. He said he was a pilot in the USSR, moving his hand to demonstrate flight. “Mig?” I asked and he nodded. He wasn’t wearing a mask. Foolishly, I hadn’t raised mine. We were only a couple of feet apart. I then spotted Maria pushing a cart toward us, returning from Stop n Shop. I raised the mask, even though hers was also lowered. To my surprise, she knew several phrases in Russian, which the guy ate up. She bought a cook book on pasta, Our Father: Reflections on the Lord’s Prayer by Pope Francis, When Someone You Love is Depressed: How to Help Your Loved One Without Losing Yourself by Laura Epstein Rosen and Xavier Francisco Amador, and A Big Little Life: A Memoir of a Joyful Dog Named Trixie by Dean Koontz. The latter had her reminiscing about her late dog Sunny, who she said was like a child to her. Her eyes filled with tears. When she had gone the guy handed me a tiny bottle of vodka, which I tried to refuse but decided it would be impolite to do so. He took out another, cracked it open, and I followed suit, saying: “Nostrovia,” which he loved and which I just learned is the English mispronunciation of “Na Zdorovie.” He chugged his. I took a tiny sip, as I’m not a drinker. Before he left he gave me a hug and pat on the back. “Dosvedanya,” I said as he walked away, which means “Till we meet again” and is something I say to a couple of regular customers. I looked at the bottle. The booze, which was the color of tea, was only 50 proof. I poured it out, realizing too late that I should have gargled with some of it to kill potential germs. I hoped that it had killed any germs the guy was carrying. Later, another gentleman approached and addressed me in Russian. Fortunately, his English was solid and we schmoozed a bit, talking books, mostly Russian classics, and American music. So, even though it wasn’t a big pay day, it was a neat session. And the unusual aspects weren’t done. The two-step curb at that location is decrepit in parts, completely absent in others. To avoid a misstep, I veered a bit as I was loading the old Hyundai. Somehow I took a header. Fortunately, I was cradling a box to my chest and I landed on top of it, saving me from a face plant and possible injury. The box broke apart. I felt so lucky. I wasn’t in any pain at all. My thanks to the kind folks I mentioned. Here’s the drink in question.
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