Au Cochonnet Marin

After weeks of requesting, imploring, cajoling, begging… and many more other words (some not very nice) ending in “ing”, I finally got my first shot of the Pfizer vaccine.

Despite the fact that I am a longtime Marin County resident and an equally longtime member of Kaiser Permanente, I had to go to San Francisco to get my shoulder pierced. My wife volunteered to drive me there, and since parking in Baghdad by the Bay can be pretty nightmarish, I gratefully accepted.

The vaccination was ultimately done through Kaiser at the USF Koret Health and Recreation Center on Turk Street in San Francisco. After a quick ride from Marin, my wife dropped me there and went looking for a parking space.

I have to admit that this mass vaccination was very well organized. At the entrance of the center, on Turk street, you were greeted by half a dozen nurses and security people who asked for your credentials. Because to be vaccinated, you absolutely had to have an appointment before being allowed into their cavernous inner sanctum.

 

After a short wait outside (about 20 minutes) my time slot group was ushered inside. The gigantic hall was staffed by a multitude of volunteers? and a large contingent of USF nursing students who administered the shots. It was immediately apparent that the young woman who gave me my injection was a trainee. She seemed very tentative and was coached every step of the way by an older gentleman. She finally, rather hesitantly, gave me the injection, and even though the syringe needle looked at least one inch long, it was surprisingly painless.

After I was given the injection, I was re-scheduled for a second shot and asked to sit down and wait for at least 15 minutes to make sure that there would be no ill side effects. Nothing of this sort occurred to me or to any of the other people sitting around me.

Some oddballs (anti-vax) are still refusing vaccinations and are denigrating that procedure. Probably the same groups who blamed wildfires on Jewish space lasers, and who believe that the shootings at Parkland, Sandy Hook, and Las Vegas were staged.
Where are these psilocybin mushroom induced stories coming from?

Unfortunately, “There is no vaccine against stupidity.”– Albert Einstein

In about 3 weeks I will get my second shot, along with some peace of mind. I hope that I will be (temporarily?) protected and unable to transmit the virus to anybody else. But does this mean that I will be able to ditch my mask and hug anybody that I fancy?
Absolutely not. Masks will be with us for a long time to come and going without it would be foolish. So, get used to it and be glad you are still breathing.

But do I see a flickering of light at the end of the tunnel? I do. After a long troublesome year, like millions of people, I yearn to get back to a normal, unrestricted way of life. And it will happen, but not tomorrow and not even in 2021.

In the meantime, keep a stiff upper lip (rather difficult to do with a mask) and carry on! That’s all you can do.

Alain

Everybody likes a good story, that’s why gossip rags, scandal sheets, magazines, books, and movies sell so well. The world is hungry for stories, the juicier, the better.

“Storytelling: the world’s second oldest profession.” ~ Danny Harris

But a good story must have a head, a body, and a tail. In other words, it must have a beginning, a mid-point, and an end. AND, above all, it absolutely must have a denouement, a good or bad conclusion where everything is explained or resolved. If your narrative does not fit these criteria, or if the end is ambiguous, it is not a good story.

Last night I started to watch a French-speaking flick (Nos batailles) with a promising beginning. It was a story about an average working guy employed by a fulfillment center looking suspiciously like Amazon. Everybody looks harried and under pressure. The guy is married, with 3 children, and seems to have a happy home life. He is also a company team leader, concerned with the fair treatment of his team. He sometimes works late, trying to resolve some employee’s disputes.

One evening he comes home to discover that his wife is gone. She packed some belongings, left the children behind, and vanished without leaving any clue about where she went or why she left. The rest of the movie is spent watching the man going berserk trying to find out where his wife went and wondering if she is ever coming back.

But like many modern French stories, the end of this tale was extremely disappointing. It was disappointing because, after about 90 minutes of suspense, we were left wanting, hungry for closure. We never saw the wife again and were never told why she left and whether she would ever return.

The French seem to specialize in this kind of sadistic ending. A little bit like an inconclusive roll in the hay that leaves both partners frustrated and angry.

And last night this is exactly how I felt. Disappointed and angry. Because even after you go to sleep, your mind does not necessarily follow suit. It remains alert, groping for answers. In any movie, I want to know who killed the old lady and why. Was it the maid, the butler, or even the cop? I don’t care who did it, I just want to know who and why. Fair is fair.

Just imagine telling a bedtime story to a young child, and after 30 minutes of colorful details, you close the book and tell the kid to go to sleep. This is a clear case of mental cruelty, punishable by literary impeachment.

I don’t necessarily want a happy ending. I just want a good story with a well-thought-out, rational conclusion… so sue me…

Alain

Undeterred by the specter of Covid-19 (and the maddening, outrageous shortage of vaccines), pétanque is alive and well. Despite its macabre reputation, the virus might inadvertently have reinforced the bonds shared by all club members.

After months of forced isolation, everybody (included our pets) craves human contact, and open space… and pétanque is the ideal activity to fulfill those cravings.
Besides the healthy exertion provided by this discipline, pétanque also dispenses a much-needed dose of adrenaline and congeniality. Many come to the field to play, but also to relieve stress.

Today, when you play pétanque, you have to wear a mask, but unlike many other sports, you don’t make body contact with anybody. And talking about close proximity… during the pandemic, some people have used sex to relieve the stress. But did they wear a mask during this interlude? According to the experts, it would be safer to do so. Some people think that it adds spice to the occasion, but altogether most everybody agrees that pétanque is safer than sex… maybe a tad less stimulating.

OTTAWA (Reuters) – Skip kissing and consider wearing a mask when having sex to protect yourself from catching the coronavirus, Canada’s chief medical officer said on Wednesday, adding that going solo remains the lowest risk sexual option in a pandemic.

And for statistic lovers, pétanque burns way more calories than a romp in the sack. According to the New England Journal of Medicine, “the average bout of sexual activity lasts for only about six minutes” while a good round of pétanque can last between 3 or 4 hours, even more for some.

Lately, due in good part to Christine’s (our venerable president) recruiting efforts, we have seen a notable increase in new members. In the last few months, at least 10 women have joined our club, and some have become steady fixures on our field.

One especially comes to mind. Her name is Ann, and besides being a warm, funny human being, she now eats and breathes pétanque. She is eager to learn and has tremendously improved her game since she appeared on the field. When the time comes, she will make a solid tournament partner.

To sum it up, pétanque is alive and well, and growing in popularity… especially among women. Which is a good thing because…

“Those people who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do.”

Those people, as irritating as they can be, are the indispensable addition to our club.

Alain