Hello and welcome back to the wonderful world of the Dogpound. I hope you had a nice, safe, and blessed Easter despite all of the distractions that have been thrown at us lately. I must admit I have washed my hands so much that I am not sure I have any fingerprints left. Actually, I don’t have much these days; years ago, I went down to the police station to get my fingerprints done for my weapons license application. They were using this electronic fingerprint apparatus, and it took forever to get a half-decent print. I thought he was going to break my fingers when he pressed ever harder on my hand to get the screen to register an acceptable print. He told me that because I was old, my fingerprints had worn down. Well, thank you Mr. Policeman! Anyway, speaking of washing hands, I learned there is a secondary issue to washing your hands to remove that pesky virus. Although it does help, I found out that the coronavirus is actually very stupid. Breeds like a rabbit, but not very smart. Let me show you. Me: Washing my hands with soap and water. Virus, in his little squeaky voices. “Hey guys! Slip and slid is open! Last one in is a dirty bacterium!” Then you hear the “whoooooeeeee” as they ride the water down the drain, then out of the drain you hear: “Hey, who turned out the lights? “Hello…hello?” as his tiny voice echoes into the void. Then there is the voice of recognition. “Oh crap!!!” This also applies to the six-foot distance thing. Now they have found out that the virus is a very good jumper, however , its spatial cognizance is way off the mark. If you are standing still, and it gets a good running start, it can jump several feet through the air. However, a moving target is a completely different story. Now, where I work, we have “x”’s on the floor in front of the copier to show the distance we have to maintain, but in the same area we have hallways and offices that makes it difficult to pass by someone and maintain the six-foot security distance. Here is an example of what happens. A co-worker is walking down the hallway with some coronavirus hanging on to her sleeve. Alarms go off in the virus compound. “Alert! Alert! Target approaching!” Captain Virus says, “Identify target!” “Confirming target…male…over 60…with exposed sleeveless arms.” Sir “Excellent…a prime target! Alpha battalion suit up!” “Yes, Sir!” shouts a thousand little voices. “Report, wind?” “Negligible Sir!” “Report speed.” “Estimated at 1.5 mph Sir!” “Report target.” “Best site is the lower left arm near the wrist.” “Report separation spacing.” Half a meter, Sir!” “Ok…men. Get ready. We have perfect conditions for launch.” “Report ETA countdown?” “Target acquisitions is T minus 7 seconds, Sir.” “Ok men. On my mark. 3-2-1 jump!” A thousand micro-specks leap into space only to be greeted by nothing but thin air. All you can hear…if you had very good hearing…is the screams of the coronavirus battalion falling harmlessly to the tile floor below, with the captain screaming… “Curses…foiled again!” As studies confirmed…good breeders… but lousy counters and judge of distance. LOL
As always, be good, do good, play safe, and remember: the virus is no joke, but in these trying times, it is essential that we keep a good sense of humor about everything.
–JR
