Well, this has been fun.

They are making cold and flu bugs much better than they used to. And they say the quality of American manufacturing has declined.

Last time we spoke, I was suffering from a head cold, flu-bug, upper respiratory, lower brain stem, mid-life crisis ailment that had pretty much taken me out for the count. That was Friday, and other than a few necessary assignments for the paper, I pretty much spent the weekend on the couch.

I slept a lot, complained a lot, flipped through the channels on the television a lot. Suzie came down with a similar ailment, and since misery loves company, we hunkered down to ride it out.

We watched movies to make us feel better. Cartoons always make us feel better. We watched How To Train Your Dragon which was exceptional.

Judging the dosage of cartoon viewing for any given illness is a tricky business. I mean, for your typical sniffle, you really only need to administer some mild fare, such as The Pink Panther or Yogi Bear. Once you get into the mid-level illness – sneezing, stuffy nose, etc. – it’s time to up the ante to Disney’s Shrek and such.

For the really venomous bugs, I recommend equal doses of All Dogs Go To Heaven and UP! And if you really, really are sick, nothing cures you better than Looney Tunes. Just make sure it’s of the Chuck Jones variety.

Now, these do not cure the cold or flu, they only treat the symptoms, much like over-the-counter medications. However, they taste a lot better and contain no red, yellow or blue dyes. I guarantee, Yosemite Sam, Foghorn Leghorn, Bugs Bunny and the Roadrunner are far more medicinal than anything you can get off a shelf in the drug store.

However, to be safe, I am still taking my meds, and eating satsumas for Vitamin C.

I’m over the exploding face and chills, but this constant sinus thing and harrowing cough is about to get on my last nerve. Every time I let out a rasping, hacking cough people scatter, and I don’t blame them. In the old days, I would have been sent to a TB farm by now.

In some of my more lucid moments, I made mental notes to make me feel better when the sun went down at 5:30 p.m. I always seem to feel sicker when the sun goes down. But I reminded myself that by Dec. 21, the days will start getting longer again, and in March, we’ll switch back to daylight savings time. If I live that long, I’ll throw a party.

In some of my more delirious moments, I recalled reading Richard Adams’ The Plague Dogs when I was a teenager. Adams, of Watership Down fame, fashioned a unique novel about two dogs who escape from an animal experimentation facility in Britain, and are hunted down for fear that they are carrying some super-virus from the lab. I began eyeing Bogie with suspicion, but he only yawned and went to sleep.

So I just wanted to say thanks this Thanksgiving.

Thanks, for all those European germs brought over on the Mayflower and so forth.

They say 90 percent of the indigenous population succumbed to disease in the first decade or so after contact. The Pilgrims tried to make it up to us with the first Thanksgiving feast, and it was a nice gesture, but really, it fell kinda short.

And here I am, 500 years later, give one little cough and people run away like I’m a leper or something. You’d think non-indigenous persons would be a little more sympathetic toward poor sick Indians, but no. If I try to point out that I wouldn’t be sneezing and coughing and groaning if it wasn’t for the conquest of America and I get chastised for bringing up “ancient history” and told to “let the past go.” Hey, this ain’t Dances With Germs, pal. I still have allergic reactions to milk (we didn’t have cows, either) and I will insist to the end that I feel worse when stricken by pure European germs than a pure European descendant does.

But I am thankful for penicillin and the subsequent drugs developed to treat us poor indigenous weaklings, though. Were it not for the kind scientific breakthroughs by the most brilliant minds, we might all have become extinct by now, and I would never have existed at all, or I would perhaps be here in another form and my last name would be different. I would likely be completely bald and bearded, too.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

2 comments to Yuck

  • Gordon Bryson

    Just remember with a cold Roger. You can treat it with all known cures and be over it in two weeks. Do nothing, and it’s gone in 14 days.

    Happy Thanksgiving,

  • Jon

    NOT Yuck;

    Hope you all start getting better and mostly wishing better health to all… & “Happy Thanksgiving”

    Have a great and joyous day,

    J & W R

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