January 9, 2022

My experience with COVID recently may be a bit unusual, as a friend pointed out to me over the Christmas holiday.

Though COVID’s been everywhere for almost two years now, and I’ve been incessantly commenting about the global overreaction to it while also decrying vaccine mandates of any kind, luck would have it that I happened to both get the virus and experience its symptoms at precisely the same time that I got the jab. 

I won’t do that disingenuous and self-deprecating thing that so many people who’ve gotten the jab like to do and suggest that “I did my research on the vaccines and decided what was best for me” or tell you that “it was totally my choice.”  No, there was significant professional pressure for me to get it, and I ultimately concluded that the jab likely poses neither a significant risk nor a health benefit to me, and it was not a hill upon which I was prepared to die.  I am in the fortunate situation that I can, however, protect my wife and children from being forced to get this experimental drug which they absolutely do not need.

And so, I scheduled my jab for early December. 

“I think I may have COVID,” my wife said a day before my appointment.  I ventured to the local pharmacy and grabbed some at-home tests.  Within minutes, hers showed as positive. 

Well… shucks.  What was I to do?  Not get the jab that had taken so long for me to schedule, and do what all of the power-mad fearmongers in government and their neurotic cult followers demand by immediately quarantining myself and my healthy children in fear of exposing others to the virus?  

Though the COVID cultists would consider our decision to be the highest and most dangerous form of heresy, we simply watched for symptoms, and decided to keep the kids home only if they exhibited them.  They never did.  I tested negative, and got the jab.