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Well, the stupid title was supposed to just be a lame pun but now I wish to address the issue. Don’t be an asshole, keep your legs together. Your massive dong (this seems to be the popular cause of resistance) makes it uncomfortable for you? Don’t sit down. Boom! Problem solved. Thankfully I’ve not been required to take public transit in some time but when I did regularly I never sat in the booth dealies. My femurs are too long to fit. It burns but not nearly as much as taking up two seats on a crowded bus. Tough break, right? I don’t know why everything has to be a thing these days. So much controversy could be solved by adopting the credo of child-like simplicity, “don’t be an asshole”. No, no, sir or madame, try again, “DON’T* be an asshole”, now you’ve got it.

Last year around this time I was working on a story that revolved around the evolution of super-viruses. I discovered a legitimate interest in the subject and ended up conducting research well in excess of what was required. Particularly for a novel I never even got half-way through writing. I have since realized I utterly lack the attention span necessary for such endeavors, hence the reversion to my original but considerably less marketable joy, pornographic anime sketches. I mean poetry. I’m in a weird place today. 🙂

One final pre-poem item, anyone enjoy the musical stylings of Carly Simon? My parents had a CD while I was growing up which received some play on occasion. Now it was no Meatloaf, “Bat Out of Hell”, then again, what is? Still, “You’re So Vain”, “The Spy Who Loved Me”, there were assuredly worse selections within the tape drawer or CD stacker thingy. Besides the prominence of apricot scarves I swear this becomes salient in the end… For the record, this is probably my favorite work in some time, scientific inaccuracies be damned!

“The Spy Who Loved Me”, June 21, 2018

Viruses that have been until now endemic

Are the most likely to spur on a pandemic

Our over-dependence on antibiotics

Prescribed to combat not disease but neurotics

Hemorrhagic fever’s epitome of terror

One of the few times you want not be a sharer

Perhaps we can perfect bacteriophages

But research’s hardly within advanced stages

Coming pestilential super-flu’s emergence

Harkens my aquatic fortress’ submergence.

DID YOU KNOW THAT? Superflu is the french word for superfluous. NOW YOU KNOW! (Bill Nye anyone?)

So, I was picturing an underwater lair similar to that from the film, The Spy Who Loved Me. Perhaps a mite smaller to accommodate just the dog and I but other than my crippling fear of sharks and the deep ocean in general it seems an ideal locale to wait out whatever the next Spanish Flu is to be. Inevitable after all. Dark but pragmatically so.

One of the coolest aspects of bacteriophage theory is that it’s really a rediscovery. Formerly eminent prior to the identification of antibiotics, given the reality of increasing resistance they are once more being considered viable. Scientifically the poem is really discussing two separate issues. Antibiotic resistance/ bacteriophage treatment and Super-flu/ hemorrhagic fevers. One cannot solve the other but both are terrifying, microscopic and will readily kill you so it seemed kosher to conflate the subjects. Sorry biologists! For those interested, the differences between DNA and RNA viruses specifically in regards to vaccinations and mutation theory is absolutely fascinating. You may lose some sleep but, as they say, you can sleep when the super-flu has rendered you dead.

Please desist breathing in my direction and have a wonderful day!

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

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A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.

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