Showing posts with label COVID mask. Show all posts
Showing posts with label COVID mask. Show all posts

Saturday, January 18, 2025

A Scattershot Approach to New Year’s Resolutions

Introduction

Well, it’s that time of year again, when you start to wonder whether your neighbors are ever going to take down their holiday lights, your friends start cracking jokes about turning “dry January” into “moist January,” and you find yourself endlessly ignoring articles about New Year’s Resolutions. Well, don’t ignore this one, because, well, just don’t. I worked hard on it. I mean, I’m about to. I will have worked hard on it by the end, unless it comes easily, who knows … wish me luck.


The scattershot approach

If you’re a longtime reader, you may recall that I’ve taken a variety of approaches to the New Year’s Resolution topic, from beating around the bush to a one-size-fits-all blanket Resolution to the highly specific treatment to the “wide net” approach. Well, I’m taking this latter tack again this year: throwing out a bunch of suggestions in case one or two hit home with this or that random reader. It’s like speed-dating. So get ready … many of these won’t apply to you, a few might, and I hope most of them will give you a chuckle if nothing else.

Get out there

I think a lot of people developed bad habits during the COVID-19 pandemic. It became so easy to stay home, spend half the day in pajamas and the other half in sweats, amortize that pandemic-purchased treadmill or Peloton exercise bike, and basically embrace our inner troglodyte. Well, it’s time to unlearn that. Why? Because humans are social creatures. I have been getting out more myself—less indoor training, more errands on foot, and I’m even doing more window shopping—because seeing other people out and about is like a balm to me now after having been cooped up. I’m actually surprised by this, having been a lifelong introvert, but there you have it. Even when I’m stopped at this one endless traffic light in Orinda during my bike rides, I take pleasure in seeing the menagerie of motorists parading by. So resolving to get out there more isn’t just for yourself—it’s for everyone else, too.

Stop floss-shaming

I guess I should say floss-self-shaming, by which I mean feeling like an idiot because you find it such a struggle to throw away a strand of used dental floss. You try to ball it up (it won’t stay balled), maybe you twist it into a snake so it’ll be shorter (pointless), you try everything, but when you go to drop it into the wastebasket it never lands there. For me it’s particularly hard because the bathroom trash can is always sliding into the far corner behind the sink and when I stoop to drag it out I have to watch I don’t bonk my head on the medicine cabinet door, and then the can’s got that pedal-activated lid that’s tough to use when I’m all crouched over because my vision is so crappy that it’s hard to see if my floss made it all the way in, only part of the way, or none of the way. Disposing of floss at day’s end is such a discouraging task, it makes me wonder if life has just gotten too difficult to even stand.

But there’s hope! Last week I stumbled across a New Yorker cartoon on this very subject: a guy meets his gal at an outdoor coffee shop table and says, “Sorry I’m late—I was trying to throw a string of dental floss in the garbage.” So fear not, we are not alone. It’s not just you and me being lame … this floss difficulty is a known thing. So have some self-compassion around this. (And no, self-compassion will not make you a wuss.)

(Now, if you though this Resolution was about not needing to floss, that’s absurd. If you don’t already floss at least once a day, make that your Resolution. We only get one set of teeth, and we’re all living longer … I could write a whole post about dental hygiene. In fact I did.)

Get less takeout/delivery

It seems like we live in the golden era of takeout (unless that  era is still ahead of us, meaning one day nobody will ever cook or go out anymore). This needs to change. There are so many reasons to get less takeout. First of all—and I speak from experience here—it’s so often a capitulation. Not something festive or fun like going out, but an admission that you just don’t have the gumption to cook. Why pay money to indulge a sense of defeat?

Meanwhile, there’s the packaging. Just picture all those plastic and styrofoam containers, yours and everyone else’s, lining our landfills … doesn’t it fly in the face of last year’s Resolution to take better care of the planet? And don’t kid yourself about recycling. My trash company sent us this stern bulletin recently that said something like, “We’ve changed our policy around recyclables. Only cans and bottles will be accepted: no other form of plastic is allowed, and we will be watching your bin. You get only one warning and then we will fine you a gazillion dollars. And don’t even think about sneaking your plastic into a neighbor’s recycling … if you try that, rest assured, we will find you, and we will kill you.” (Yeah, I exaggerated a bit, but it really was a snotty bulletin.)

What’s more, you’re doing your local restaurant a disservice because the lovely food they create is severely compromised by the transportation delay. It’s less than piping hot, and it’s sweaty from being trapped with its steam, plus the presentation is ruined. So the restaurant you think is just-okay is probably actually great but you no longer know it. On top of that, you’re slowing down the restaurant’s kitchen and thus compromising the experience of their dine-in guests, all because you’re too lazy to put on a pair of pants, brush your hair, and go be out in the world. (Didn’t I just tell you, via my first suggested resolution, to get out more?)

Delivery is even worse … you have to pay extra, plus tip the driver, and you’re not even leaving the house. I was shocked to learn that people are now using DoorDash to get McDonald’s. As if a non-piping-hot French fry were even edible. And McDonald’s is actually calling this McDelivery®. Did you just throw up in your mouth? I did, too! The center cannot hold. The falcon cannot hear the falconer.

I know what you’re thinking right now: “Yeah, but who has the time to cook?” Well now wait a second. Haven’t you been going on and on, like everybody else, about how useful A.I. is, and how much time you’re saving using ChatGPT? For example, when your daughter needed help with her homework for art class, and instead of spending an hour or more counseling her you just outsourced it and got a finished artwork in under two minutes?


Think of all the time A.I. has freed up for you to cook! And hey, here is a link to some easy recipes even a time-strapped college kid could make. (No, they’re not perfectly salubrious but neither is the stuff restaurants produce.)

Get control of your dog

I am not a dog person, which gives me special insight into what’s it like to not be enthralled by dogs. If you are a dog person, it might come as a real surprise to you that what you consider either adorable or at least lovably rambunctious misbehavior is actually a drag for grouches like me. For example, I’m out for a walk and your dog comes bounding over to me and tries to run up my body, his front paws raking my legs and groin, and you call out, “Don’t worry, he’s friendly!” And I’m thinking, fine, you’re probably friendly too, but would you windmill me like this? Or, your dog terrorizes me with aggressive barking and instead of apologizing to me, you only bawl out the dog, as though I could get satisfaction from that. Look, I can enjoy dogs, if they politely come sniff me and wait patiently to be adored. Maybe you could, like, train your beloved pet better so that everyone can love her?

Stop using my hairbrush

This one really only applies to my younger daughter when she’s home from college. So, L—, to be clear, it’s actually okay if you use my hairbrush on the sly such that I don’t even know about it. But when I have to look for it, I get nervous … what if you took it to a slumber party and lost it? As you know, it’s my oldest possession so I’m inordinately fond of it. And to my other readers: if you routinely borrow a hairbrush (or anything else) that is somebody’s oldest possession, please stop, or at least be more discreet.

When in Rome, wear a mask

I am not suggesting that there is an outbreak of COVID or any other disease in Rome. I mean this figuratively, and what I’m saying is, if you enter a business where the staff are wearing COVID masks, maybe you should, too, just out of respect. It’s no real hardship, after all, and isn’t it nice getting sick less often than we used to? After those pandemic years it seems like every jacket I own has a mask in its pocket, along with every bag and backpack. So just put that mask on as you go through the door … don’t cost nothin’.

Stop wearing a mask alone in your car

Look, in the early days of the COVID lockdown when nobody know what was going on, we did all kinds of silly stuff, like forensic-grade wipe-downs of shopping cart handles and wearing a mask in the car. But it never made sense to wear a mask when driving alone, did it? Are you worried you’ll give your car COVID? This behavior makes even less sense now than at the height of the pandemic, but I still see people doing it. If that’s you, just stop. You’re making mask-wearers look like lunatics. Let’s not re-kindle that whole mask-ideology war, okay?

Entertain more

Remember when people hosted dinner parties, or cocktail parties, or birthday parties? Well, at least in my community, it seems like entertaining guests has become a lost art. Is it just me or are fewer people hosting than in years past? (That you can’t reply “It’s just you” is why albertnet is a blog, not a panel discussion.)

I think people have either gotten lazy, or out of practice, or they’ve just forgotten entertaining is a thing. Look, if you have social anxiety, don’t worry about it … blow this Resolution off. But if you used to host parties or dinners, how about reflecting on how fun that was, and getting back into it?

Lose the motion-activated stadium lights

Most nights, my wife and I take a walk after dinner (we call it our Post-Prandial Promenade) and it’s all very pleasant except the half-dozen or so houses that have installed motion-sensor-activated lights that are blindingly bright, like we’re suddenly being interrogated. What the hell? What ever happened to the 40-watt porch light? Trust me, that was enough to deter burglars, who a) can be spotted in very low light, and b) don’t tend to do their thing at 8 p.m. anyway. If you have one of these crazy-bright lights, you’re basically blinding your neighbors on a regular basis. What for? Are you worried we’ll veer off the sidewalk, trip on your lawn gnome, get injured, and sue? With this thoughtless technology you are being antisocial, and giving me—a conscientious, law-abiding citizen—a serious temptation to commit vandalism (e.g., bringing a slingshot on my walks to take out your light bulbs).

Stop holding your smartphone up to your mouth

I’ve seen this for years: an otherwise normal-looking person is using his or her smartphone in speakerphone mode, but has determined that the person on the other end of the call may be having trouble hearing, and thus holds the phone directly ahead of his or her mouth as if about to take a bite out of it:


This might seem like a victimless crime, but it’s really not. Not only does it look ridiculous, but it reminds the onlooker that this person is so lost in his phone call he’s lost awareness of being out in public—which is unnerving. Earbuds with microphones are so cheap and unobtrusive, not to mention they protect your caller’s privacy. Why not just use them? As a bonus, you might be mistaken for a crazy person talking to himself, which is amusing.

But seriously…

If you earnestly want some help with your Resolutions and are disappointed with the above suggestions, here are some less flippant ones:

 Further reading 

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Friday, April 16, 2021

COVID wristbands

Introduction

I’ve had my first COVID vaccination shot, and more and more of my friends and family are getting theirs. It feels like there’s finally an end in sight. It’s so tempting to give in to this or that temptation, such as to finally ditch the mask. Of course I won’t yet, for two reasons. One, with variants etc. it’s still possible for a vaccinated person to spread the coronavirus. Two, from a social perspective I don’t want to scare anyone. That’s what this post is about: signaling to others when we’re no longer a threat. Is there a simple way of doing this?


Mask as token

A face mask prevents the spread of two things: airborne virus-laden droplets, and fear. Much of the time, this second thing is arguably more important. When I go for a walk (whether on a trail in a regional park or just in my neighborhood) and encounter another person, it’s almost comical how much evasive action we both take. If our masks aren’t already on we swiftly apply them in a practiced motion, and then we greatly alter our course so as to put at least ten feet between us, even when it means going out into the middle of the street. Most of the time this is unnecessary. It’s just a social gesture that says, “I respect your right to not get COVID.”

The fact is, three conditions must exist for the virus to spread: close proximity, lack of good air flow, and prolonged exposure. If you’re indoors, maskless, and talking loudly in someone’s face for several minutes or more, sure—that’s dangerous. A five-second encounter on a fire trail isn’t. Nevertheless, I always pull up my mask because not everybody understands this, or believes it, or feels comfortable tempting fate. It’s easy enough to wear a mask and I’m happy to do it.

Still, I get dirty looks. Sometimes I’m a little slow pulling my mask over my face, or somebody appears to resent my practice of only having my mask in place when I encounter others. (These are the folks who wear a mask while driving alone with their car windows rolled up.) One time I was at home and stepped across the sidewalk, unmasked, to get something out of my car and encountered somebody whose stroll brought her unexpectedly into my death zone. She scolded me, “You should always wear a mask when you go to your car because a person might be coming!” I replied, “Oh my god, thank you so much for pointing that out. I never would have put that together.” She smiled smugly and continued on (either oblivious to my deadpan sarcasm, or even deader-pan than I).

Why are safety-minded people so prickly? It’s because as babies they were given all the routine vaccinations against polio, diphtheria, tetanus, etc. and they’re all autistic.

Note: that was a joke, and if you got all excited because you’re an anti-vaxxer, you’re a joke and should go somewhere else for your “news.”

So once I’m fully vaccinated, will I still wear a mask and give everyone a comically wide berth? Sure. After all, that’s preferable to irking people wherever I go. But wouldn’t it be nice if people could be that much more relaxed around me because they could tell, somehow, that in addition to my mask I have all the antibodies I need to keep the virus from turning me into a highly infectious disease-spreading machine?

How about I’ve-been-vaccinated wristbands?

So I got to thinking: what about a rubber (well, silicone) wristband, like those yellow Livestrong bands from the early aughts? A color-colored wristband worn by those lucky folks who have had the COVID vaccine could suddenly become all the rage, and overnight would come a universal symbol for greatly reduced contagiousness. Next time somebody gave me stink-eye for being a little slow on the mask-draw, I could flash my wristband on they ass, and then they’d be like, “No worries, my bad!”

Once I had this idea, I figured I’d write a blog post about it which would immediately go viral, and we’d be well on our way to wristbands being standard for everyone who gets the vaccine. Five seconds later I realized that if I’ve had this idea, of course countless others have as well. Sure enough, a cursory Google search turned up countless heartwarming stories about how “two Seattle techies,” a “Carpenteria man,” an “RIT alum,” a “government contractor,” and a “father and son” came up with this ingenious idea to promote vaccination while reducing social anxiety through been-vaxxed wristbands. All these news stories seem to have been written in a vacuum, taking it on faith that nobody else had thought of this simple social signaling mechanism.

Do these wristbands work?

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never actually seen anyone rocking the I’ve-been-vaccinated wristband. For now, it looks like a movement that’s just spinning its wheels. So what’s missing? Well, think about this: why didn’t the Livestrong wristbands come in a variety of colors? It’s because they had to be instantly recognizable in order to convey the message “I support Lance Armstrong’s amazing cancer foundation.”


You can chuckle and roll your eyes all you want now, but the Livestrong Foundation sold 80 million of those wristbands before Lance got popped. They were all the rage and the various knock-offs, like the grey “APATHY” wristband I somehow acquired, never saw significant sales.


I don’t think the current COVID wristbands will ever be adopted because they’re not distinctive enough to mean anything. It’s like if a wedding ring could be made of any material or worn on any finger … how would we know what’s merely decorative vs. declarative?

On top of this, the current crop of COVID vaccination wristbands are pretty ugly and/or cheesy. Let’s look at a few. Here’s a pretty revolting color:


Compared to this awful green, the maillot jaune color of the Livestrong wristbands was like the new black. Now look with these orange-white numbers:


They remind me of Creamsicles. Yuck. Here’s an even grosser color, with an embarrassing label, “I AM A COVID WARRIOR,” into the bargain:


This plain white one is just poorly executed, like the bottom-of-the-barrel swag from a trade show (remember those?):


This one is particularly ugly in color, and “GOT THE SHOT” with the silly coronavirus-shaped Os is just unforgivably tacky:


Now, this fancy bracelet version is particularly problematic: it can’t be read without glasses or myopia; wouldn’t be popular among dudes; and could cause skin problems for those who require 14-karat gold jewelry.


The father/son team wristband, stating “Vaccinated and Proud,” looks like the cheesy toy from a Cracker Jack or cereal box, and is not only unwisely political but kind of arrogant. Proud that you were lucky enough to get a vaccination appointment? Proud of believing in science? Proud of braving that scary needle? Give me a break. Meanwhile, who could read the text from over six feet away … Superman?


On top of these aesthetic concerns, I’m not about to fork out real money for a cheap rubber wristband. Prices look to be in the $1.30 to $5.00 range (or $34 for the bracelet) and you often have to buy a 5-or 10-pack. This seems like a ripoff, particularly if these wristbands don’t become ubiquitous among the vaccinated, so I just look like a random solo douchebag wearing one.

My analysis of the problem here? This is one of those times when the private sector just isn’t up to the job. It’s time for the government to step in.

Hey CDC – you make the wristbands!

The solution is obvious. The CDC needs to develop a totally standardized rubber wristband, embossed with a non-embarrassing label like “C19 VACCINATED.” They should manufacture them by the millions, and ship them to vaccine distributors to give away to everyone who receives a shot. It wouldn’t be an indicator of anyone’s personal style or fashion, but more like a government-issued ID of sorts so it’d simply be a matter of public health to wear one. The color should be something muted but also completely distinctive. I propose Celeste #227, the strange milky blue-green created by Bianchi, the Italian bicycle company. Here’s a swatch:


Understated, distinctive, and utilitarian … so much easier to adopt than the current tacky hodgepodge. Get some major celebrities to sport them, and you’d have a nationwide phenomenon in no time.

So if anyone reading this is close personal buds with Dr. Fauci, or if you’re some kind of big shot Internet influencer, please get this going. My second shot is only a week away…

More reading on the pandemic
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