I had put my CDs and LPs in alphabetical order and was hunting for something else to fill my empty day when I decided to throw caution to the wind and send away for one of those snazzy, jet-age Covid-19 test-at-home kits. (Not available in stores.)
The kit arrived a few days later in discrete plain brown wrapper and I opened it with trembling hands
I had a chance to be the first kid on my block to test positive for Covid.
The test instructions were simple enough. I had to deep throat a Q-tip then jam said implement up each nostril and wiggle it around five times while facing West and whistling Dixie before sticking it into a small vial of magic elixir and mailing the sample back to the lab for the results.
Then I read the small print.
Mind you, this was a UK government approved Covid-19 test. The small print on the package clearly stated that a negative result did not mean I did not have Covid-19 and a positive result did not mean I did have Covid-19. But, wait, don’t touch that dial, there’s more … if perchance I got a positive result it was likely that the test had picked up a remnant of flu in my system.
Waaaiiittt one pea pickin’ minute here…
Hmmmnnn… so people are released from quarantine (or not) and allowed to fly (or not) or allowed to work (or not) based on the results of tests that the testers themselves admit are bullshit.
Pay attention in the back…
The hallowed NY Times reported that the most widely used test in the US was returning 93% false positives!
The Supreme Court of Portugal found their test was returning 97% false positives!
A major lab in California could find no Covid in thousands of supposedly positive samples.
Remember these facts the next time you are fed scare stories about a spike in Covid cases in Sweden which is (Ahem) doing just fine without lockdown.
Ya ask me these Covid cases are as phoney as a three dollar bill. They are as fake as the “derivatives” wished into being by those nice vampire-capitalists at Goldman Sachs. You remember, those “investment packages” that contained nothing but debt, were worth bupkis and nearly bankrupted us all back on 2008.
Folks, ya gotta know the real thing from the counterfeit.
As we say in Brooklyn, “Ya gotta know shit from Shinola.”
As Cole Porter said, “Is this the real turtle soup or merely the mock? Is this Granada I see or only Asbury Park?”
I’m reminded of these other plain-speaking truth-tellers.
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Boy Outa Brooklyn 