Wunderkind

I remember at age 12 riding with friends on the Tubes downtown, to visit a men's hat shop off Herald Square, where I bought a Greek fisherman's cap to go with my new wire-rim glasses.

I remember, too, how happy we always were to hear Cousin Brucie play yet another new Beatles tune on the radio, and to find yet another new album by the band gracing the front rack of the record store.

I loved how John referred to boys as "lads," girls as "birds," and friends as "mates;" how he made wise-ass statements during interviews and released inane tape recordings at Christmas; how he wore mod glasses and hats; how he'd been born in the midst of a Nazi air raid and given the middle name Winston; and how he seemed to have wisdom beyond his years.

The Beatles were as puzzled by their overnight success in America as anyone. But I never was.

The band, after all, had songs like "Help," "All My Loving," "Help," "We Can Work It Out" and "Nowhere Man." 

The band had John.

I read a comment on social media today, oh boy, by someone who couldn't remember the name Mark David Chapman or his motive, and I realized 40 years is a long, long time. It just doesn't feel like it. 

Life is very short.

Panacea

Americans—boosterish businesspeople, in particular—are being lulled into believing the forthcoming Covid-19 vaccine is a panacea, a "universal remedy."

It isn't.

According to the new issue of Health Affairs, at the current rate of confirmed new infections per day, over 160,000 Americans will die in the six months after the vaccine's rollout.

Those deaths alone are enough to scare people into avoiding stores, malls, movie theaters, concerts, sports events, conventions, tradeshows, airports and other places where crowds gather.

The optimism is mistaken.

Panacea entered English in the 16th century. It derives from the Latin name given by the Ancient Romans to various herbs thought to cure illnesses. 

The Romans borrowed the word from the Greek panakeia, or "cure-all." The Greek god of healing, Asclepius, had a daughter named Panacea. Her name became synonymous with medicinal plants.

The vaccine is coming, but it isn't the cure for what ails us.

Time is.

Parting Words

The application for injunctive relief presented to Justice Alito and by him referred to the Court is denied.

— The Supreme Court

For better or worse, I've been basting Trump on Goodly since November 28, 2016, for the threat to decency and democracy he represented.

Note the past tense: represented.

Yesterday, with only 18 words, the Supreme Court parted Trump from the office he has soiled.

As Trump fades into obscurity—he's already fading by the moment from this writer's thoughts—take heart in one thing.

Obscurity is forever.

Vaccine against Fake-Believe

Typically, conservatives stand in the way of economic recoveries. 

This time round, antivaxxers do.

Unless at least 85% of Americans are vaccinated against Covid-19, a rebound remains out of reach, according to Anthony Fauci.

But most Americans will never get the jab, if antivaxxers have their way.

Like those of the QAnon followers, antivaxxers' kooky beliefs rest on conspiracy theories: Covid-19 is a Democrat hoax; a Chinese weapon; a 5G side effect; a "plandemic" hatched by Bill Gates; a Commie plot to insert tracking devices in our arms; an evil inventor's dastardly scheme to control our thoughts.

Fortunately such nonsense is assailable, says Cambridge psychologist Sander van der Linden, through a method he calls prebunking.

Prebunking works like a vaccine against disinformation.

Because it's so "sticky"—able to overshadow real news—disinformation can't be debunked, van der Linden says; the only cure is to prebunk it with a strong dose of reality.

Van der Linden's fake-believe "vaccine" comes in the form of a warning. 

Through behavioral studies, the psychologist found that when believers of disinformation are informed they're being manipulated, they tend to question, if not reject, false claims, and become less willing to share them.

Much like a stop light, van der Linden's vaccine works because the warning ("You're being manipulated!") interrupts our processing of news—which is unconscious—and forces us to slow down. 

At slower speeds, we no longer accept news at face value. Our brainwaves, as it were, become disinformation-resistant.

An effective way to warn conspiracy-theory believers they're being manipulated, van der Linden adds, is to acknowledge actual conspiracies in history.

Reminding or informing them, for example, that Richard Nixon once duped the whole country suggests that they, too, can be deceived by wrong-doers.

Dim Bulbs

Stupid people have all the answers.

― Socrates

No industry—events included—is spared its share of dim bulbs.

You encounter them every day on social media platforms, where they continue to insist the pandemic is "fake" and that Covid-19 precautions are a "Socialist plot against America."

I encountered a dim bulb recently: a CEO who, ironically, runs a company that sells light bulbs to tradeshow exhibitors. 

The proud leader of a "dream team" (according to his company's cheesy website), he went ballistic when I questioned his dimwitted thinking.

Our confrontation began when an accomplished events-industry journalist I follow posted a comment on LinkedIn.

She lamented the fact that the states are inconsistent about their Covid-19 precautions concerning crowd-sizes.

"It's only gonna get worse under Biden," the CEO shot back, ignoring the fact that states set the rules. 

"He's not about business, like he claims. All shows are moving dates. Exhibitors are getting pissed. ISC WEST moved from March to July now. Then what? Canceled again. Either just shut all shows down until we can get back to normal, with people interacting, or just open up and let who wants to come, come."

I replied to him, "So you're willing to risk the health and safety of attendees, so you can make money? Nice!"

The CEO replied, "Do you go to stores and shop or do you sit home by yourself? If the stupid masks worked, why is there still this widespread virus? Many stories of the tests not being accurate. You just need to stay home by yourself and think the Democrats didn't lie and cheat in the last four years. I see where you're from. Don't tell us how to live our lives. This is the USA."

I replied, "Not logical or informed."

The CEO replied, "Crawl back under your rock."

I replied, "I am in the majority of Americans. Sorry, pal."

The CEO replied, "Sorry, you're not, you just think so, you're not American, you're a Socialist in hiding. Again back under your rock with your mask and gloves or maybe in the basement with Joey. You don't want to fight like true Americans. By the way, tough guy, I'm not your pal."

I replied, in kind, "You strike me as a fascist. Do your customers know you are a fascist?"

The CEO replied, "You strike me as an idiot that can't paint, Demtard. Back under your rock, Demtard. Back under your rock."

I replied, "Business failing? Panicking? No surprise." I included a link to my recent post about increasing mask-wearing at tradeshows.

Without reading my post, the CEO replied, "We really don't care what you think. Back under your rock, basement dweller."

I replied by posting a meme:

The CEO replied, "Again, back under your rock. Go look for your little tree, basement dweller. Did you paint that? Back under your rock."

I replied, "I see from your website you are cashing in on Covid-19 by selling 'social distance' crap. What unmitigated hypocrisy! And what a crappy website. All the photos for the social distance crap have fake captions. Funny! Chump."

That ended our back and forth. 

Dim bulbs always burn out.

NOTE: The above is unedited, except for corrections to the CEO's abysmal spelling and punctuation.