By Scott Sullivan
Editor
Monkeypox
I’ve wanted to be Monkeypox Czar since I heard of the job just now. President Biden tapped FEMA regional administrator Robert Fenton to the new role with Demetre Daskalakis deputy. Their mission: get new vaccines into arms of victims. Just shoot me now.
The viral disease, whose symptoms include fever, swollen lymph nodes and a rash that forms blisters then crusts over, has no known cure and is the best thing from Nigeria since loan scams. Endemic in West Africa and the Congo, a cluster of cases was found in London May 6 spread by a person with travel links to Africa. The Nigerian Flew, presumably.
Its zoonotic cousin smallpox vaccines contain vaccinia, found to provide about 85-percent effectiveness against monkeypox symptoms. I learned this in five minutes on Wikipedia. If I can’t be Czar, why not Tsar?
Both are English terms for pre-Soviet Russian emperors that draw on the Latin Caesar. Linguists contest which is preferred or best. With Czar Bob, Deputy Demetre and Tsar Me we’ll lick monkeypox metaphorically although literally that’s a poor way to not transmit it.
Joe doesn’t need jobs for smore bureaucrats to whom he owes favors; he needs to guarantee Big Pharma billions through Operation Warped Speed to crank out nostrums for a malady as did his predecessor, mocking Covid outwardly — Have a swig of Clorox — while being first in line to receive them.
Needing money till Joe & Co. bail me out or midterms make them bail, I got work in a warehouse. I’m not aware where but it had wares shelved and coded for quick, easy access.
“Here Sir, Madam or However You Prefer I Undress You,” I told my first customer. “As described, at this price top-selling, plus a coupon. Many are happy upgrading, saving more yet, for our Pro model. Free download updates too. For that price I’m drooling …”
“You don’t have one?” the customer asked.
“What they pay me I’m lucky to eat,” I said.
He/She/It took me to a Congoleum restaurant where we caught monkeypox from the flooring. Nowhere’s safe. Bob and Demetre walked in armed with needles.
“A pox on you apes!” cried my Ma/Patron who’d treated me to this.
“We’re here to treat you for it,” said Czar Bob and Deputy Dawg, sparking memories of that 1960 to ’64 Terrytoons series which alternated with “Sidney the Elephant.” Sidney, who didn’t love Jungle Law, wanted out; DD was laggard doing his duties too. Both marked the animation of debut of Ralph Bakshi, who later created the first X-rated adult cartoon “Fritz the Cat” with Zap Comix pioneer R. Crumb of “Keep on Truckin’” fame.
“Why do we get shots when Third World countries don’t?” I asked.
“Shut up and take your medicine!” Joe cried, barging in cowboy-like on his Amigo cart slinging sick-shooters.
“No, Joe!” cried Deputy Dawg as the Prez fell asleep and crashed into a Depends display, diapers raining down on him.
“Is there no known cure?” I beseeched the Czar.
In walked Fritz the Cat. Deputy Dawg tried to treat but treed him instead. A Linguist explained the difference to me.
“You know words’ origins but do you know what they mean?” I complained to him.
“Do you mean you don’t know?”
“Don’t pull that on me,” I said, pushing him into the pile of those who Depend on Biden. In came Donald Trump.
“Miss me yet?” he asked. Czar Bob and Deputy Dawg threw their needles at him.
“Nice aim, guys,” I said as the ex-Prez turned into an orange porcupine.
“Every junket’s to a setting sun,” sang Neil Young, seeing the needles’ damage.
“How did you get in here?” bristled Trump.
“A pox upon both your houses,” yowled Fritz from the tree.
“You mean House and Senate?” asked Trump.
“Democrats and Republicans?” Biden queried, spitting out a diaper.
“Mercutio,” the Linguist corrected the Cat, “actually said ‘A plague upon both your houses,’ meaning the Veronese Montague and Capulet families as he dies resulting from their feud in ‘Romeo and Juliet.’”
“Plague, pox, what’s the difference?” asked Fritz.
“Don’t get him started,” I warned. “We still haven’t eaten.”
“You’ve still not told me what ware you’re selling,” my Ma/Patron pressed me.
“Who, what, where, when, why you need to know?”
“You tried to upsell me is all.”
“‘Truth is beauty, beauty truth. That is all ye need to know,’” I quoted John Keats.
“That’s a misquote actually,” said the Linguist. Joe stuffed a diaper down his throat.
“You just got my vote,” I said, “especially if you don’t run again.
“Mr. Keats, he dead,” said Deputy Dawg.
“Age 25, 1821, poet and medicine man, of TB, now vaccine-preventable,” said Neil Young.
“What about monkeypox?” Czar Bob asked.
