I have a confession to make: I am a pro-vaxxer. And I can’t tell you how good it feels to get that off my conscience.

Yes, I know . . . I know our esteemed Secretary of Health and Human Services — that renowned font of all medical wisdom, promoter of “toughing it out,” and black sheep of the otherwise reasonably sane Kennedy family — has told us that Tylenol causes autism, and vaccines will turn us all into zombies or mutants or an army of terrifying clones.

But I’m a rebel. I was raised to believe in my own intelligence, and in my ability to make rational decisions based on empirical evidence. Not voodoo “science.” And not the word of some strung-out, addle-brained . . . well, you know who I mean.

So, based on my own decades-long history of not having had a serious case of the flu since the first flu shots became available; having survived five years of being surrounded by the coronavirus without contracting it; and never having had polio thanks to Dr. Jonas Salk . . . I have made an independent decision.

Today, I am going to have my annual flu and COVID shots. My local pharmacy has the vaccines, I’m over 65, and I don’t give a rat’s ass what some pea-brained psycho who looks like he died three years ago tells me.

*. *. *

The reason I am sharing this with you is that I did have one mild reaction to my past COVID shots: total exhaustion for a day or two. I wasn’t ill; I didn’t have a fever; I just felt as limp as a Raggedy Ann doll. (Remember her?)

So I’m anticipating that I may be too tired to think for the next 24-48 hours, in which case you will most likely be able to find me in my PJs, hunkered down in my easy chair, staring mindlessly at reruns of the entire 25 seasons of Midsomer Murders, and occasionally taking nourishment in the form of . . . what else? . . . a couple of pints of Haagen-Dazs.

And perhaps a Tylenol or two.

I’ll keep you posted.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/10/25