Good Friday Meds . . .

Dear you,

Good Friday.  While leaving for my second shot of Moderna invincibility, news breaks about an attack on the Capitol.  Suspect drove his car into the barriers.  Capitol police, again, stepped up, doing what they do.  As of now, one officer is dead and another is in critical condition.  The suspect is dead.  His name was Noah.

Good Friday.  Driving back from that shot, I turn on the radio.  Science Friday on NPR informs me that cattle are being fed seaweed to eliminate methane farts.  Turn the channel.  On 95.1 The Grateful Dead sing “we will get by, we will survive.” Survival made possible by the elimination of methane farts.

Good Friday.  The Chauvin trial continues with stories of remorse.  Remorse expressed by witnesses, the Cup Foods cashier who took the infamous $20 bill, emergency workers on the scene, all broken by not being able to stop the murder of George Floyd.  Remorse not expressed by the masked murderer, jotting notes on his legal pad.

Good Friday.  My congressman, Matt Gaetz, is in deep shit and Fox News pretends they don’t know him.  Even the local paper (a far-right prop piece) printed the story about the DOJ’s investigation of Matt re: paying for sex.  Sex with minors.

Good Friday.  I look at the bottle of Tylenol I bought.  I was told by random people to down a few after shot 2 to prevent the reactions I had after shot 1, or at least lessen the impact.  But the good nurse who gave me today’s shot said don’t.  “Let your body fight this. That is how it works.”

Good Friday.  Scott Dworkin tweets “Major League Baseball is moving the All-Star Game out of Georgia due to racist voting law.”  Florida is working on a voter restriction bill like Georgia's, as are other states. Vermont may be the only remaining go-to state for corporations with souls.

Good Friday.  Visitors are pouring into the 30A beach scene for their versions of holy weekend. A huge red truck with Texas plates pulls up to my building.  Big group. They like to slam doors.

Good Friday.  That Grateful Dead song is stuck in my head as I take in all these events, “the ABCs we all must face/try to keep a little grace”. Just another day facing the ABCs. Trying to keep a little grace.

Considering all that, I AM TAKING THE TYLENOL! 

Love,

Joyce