A COVID shot in the long arm of the law...

 

Covid Vaccine–Getty Images

Written by Jim Heffernan for the DuluthNewsTribune/ October 4, 2025

I used to be a pretty good law-abiding citizen but now I feel like a fugitive.

Oh, I’ve had my brushes with the law. A couple of speeding tickets, that sort of thing. I once stole a grape from a store display of berries and such but I didn’t get caught. I popped it into my mouth. I was in junior high at the time.

I’ve managed to stay out of the hoosegow all these years and we’re talking about a lot of years. So, it’s kind of surprising to become a possible fugitive at this stage of my so-called life. Not here in Minnesota, but elsewhere where what I did seems to be against the law. What if I travel? To Florida, the Moonshine State? Oops, sorry…Sunshine State.

 

So even after reading all the news about vaccinations, I admit I sneaked into a pharmacy when no one was looking and the fuzz wasn’t around so I wouldn’t be observed and get caught. I was intent on committing what seems now to be a crime in some places by getting a shot…a COVID shot. Yikes! The way some of the politicians are talking in some places a COVID shot would be a major offense punishable by who-knows-what.

 

So, after a nice nurse poked my arm and slipped the juice to me (Bruce?) I slunk out of the drug store wondering if “slunk” is proper English usage and covering the bandage on my upper arm with a loose sleeve. Glancing around, I felt like a lonely little petunia in an onion patch.

 

I made it, but after committing an offense like that, you can’t just act like things are normal. You log onto the on-line newspaper and half of the headlines warn the reader that the big cheeses in government are fighting over COVID vaccines, certain “woke” politicians being all for them, and red state politicos following the lead of the United States Secretary of “Health” and Human Services who are showing no mercy about COVID shots. (The quotation marks are mine.)

 

His uncle was once president of the United States; my uncle was named Wiggily. You might remember Uncle Wiggily. Very well known. He and his friend Piggily shortened their names and founded a grocery store chain. But I digress.

 

I confess I must be woke when it comes to getting vaccinated for all things, including mumps, measles, chicken pox, diphtheria, polio and anything else. I’ve had vaccinations for ‘em all. I remember back in the day when you could openly seek such treatment without having to worry about you or the doc being prosecuted. But you might have to worry about spelling diphtheria.

 

Reflecting as I contemplated the situation, I recalled my U.S. Army days when they’d line you up in some makeshift medical facility and herd you through a double row of low-ranking medics, about three on each side, each wielding a medical shot gun for various military diseases. As you moved through the line, you’d get shot in each arm several times. The Army didn’t bother with needles; they’d shoot you.

 

This was the most harrowing action I ever saw in the military (except for the haircuts). Some soldiers fainted in line before getting the shots and had to be hauled away. I did not faint. I was too scared to faint; they might put you on K.P. when you came to.

 

Meanwhile, back to the present. I’ve started to venture out with my COVID shot coursing through my body, the shot ready at a moment’s notice to go to war against that consarned virus that shut down the country for some five years. (I know consarned is not a real cuss word, but it works so well you could say it in church and not be condemned to h-e-double toothpicks.)

 

But I know many, many people are wary of COVID shots and won’t get them. Research shows that two out of three stooges are against them. While I respect them greatly, I have never taken medical advice from Moe, Larry, Curly or Shemp. (That’s four. They couldn’t count. Stooges are notoriously poor at head counting but great at face slapping.)

 

So now I feel like a prospective fugitive for the first time in what can only be described as my long life. Hey, maybe I made it this long because of all the medicine injections I’ve had over the years. Heck, I’ve even had the shingles shot, even though our roof seems fine. As they incessantly holler on ubiquitous TV commercials, “shingles doesn’t care!”

 

Today (Oct. 4) is my birthday, and I am still with us. I know shingles doesn’t care, but I do.

 

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org.

Welcome to the age of artificial stupidity (AS)...

 Warner Brothers movie poster
from a 2001 movie directed
by Steven Spielberg (Wikipedia)

Written by Jim Heffernan for the DuluthNewsTribune/9-6-25

I’m so glad artificial intelligence has arrived on the scene. It explains a lot about my own life.

I realize now that whatever intelligence might be ascribed to me has been artificial all along. Plus, for everything there is an opposite, right? So, if there is artificial intelligence (often referred to as AI) there has to be artificial stupidity (AS). You know, like black-white, hot-cold, sick-well, etc.

What a relief that is. Whenever you feel stupid — and who doesn’t sometimes? — or do something stupid (politicians included), now you can say it’s just artificial stupidity and get on with your stupid life.

Many years ago, I wrote a column about hockey, titled “The Game of Hockey Is a Lot Like Life — Stupid.” This was back when I was a hockey dad, probably he dumbest — make that stupidest — hockey dad in the bleachers watching the games. In short, I’d never taken an interest in hockey so I knew nothing about the rules of the game when I was thrust into the vortex of youth hockey in Northern Minnesota.

Here are some excerpts from that hockey column, every paragraph of which ends with the word stupid. It starts out:

“Heaven knows I try to keep up with what’s going on when I watch hockey, but it’s a fast game, and most of the time I don’t know why the referee or linesman or other guy in a striped shirt blows the whistle, so I ask somebody and when they tell me I feel stupid.”

A couple of paragraphs later it goes on:

“It’s easy for guys who have been patrons of the game of hockey to recognize infractions of the rules, but how’s somebody like me who doesn’t know cross checking from butt ending supposed to know when they’re doing it? Then, if I ask somebody, I feel stupid.”

Here’s another quote from this old column to help me make my point:

“There are certain things I understand about hockey, but then everybody understands them because how could you miss them? Like ‘charging.’ Your kid (your kid is why you see all this hockey in the first place) goes on the road for a weekend series and you have to stay in a hotel for two nights, eating at restaurants, and you pull out your Master Card and put the weekend on it, that’s called charging, and when I do it, I feel stupid.”

I wrote most of that more than 30 years ago and I’ve been feeling stupid ever since. But hold it! We now realize it must have been artificial stupidity, the opposite of artificial intelligence.

Here’s the final paragraph from that old missive:

“Sometimes I watch the frustration the hockey players experience in chasing that little black puck around a slippery surface while being knocked around by other people just for trying to achieve a goal. I think of hockey as a metaphor for life, because the same things happen to you when you try to accomplish anything — there’s always somebody in your way to knock you off balance and stop you from reaching your goal — and when my mind wanders down those philosophical pathways I miss something on the ice like ‘hooking’ or ‘slashing’ and I ask somebody what happened and when they tell me I feel stupid.

Unfortunately, hockey isn’t the only area of life where situations can make you feel…well, you know. Like if I’m at Menards or Home Depot in my yuppie khakis and polo shirt perusing the shelves and I recognize nothing on display; what the stuff is for in the home, and even the tools to install it. Then I look down the aisle and there’s this corpulent guy in bib overalls and camo cap who is intelligently filling a shopping cart with stuff that I don’t even recognize that he’ll need for some home project. I realize that the only things I do recognize in the whole place are cooking grills and toilet paper, and I feel stupid.

And don’t get me started on bird baths. We have had birth baths at our homes over the years, including today where one is located along a sidewalk leading to the street. I walk by it every day and I have never seen a bird taking a bath in it. And in past yards where we’ve put out bird baths, I never saw any birds bathing either, and I wonder why we put out good hard-earned money for bird baths that never get used, or even care about birds’ bathing habits, and I feel stupid.

Finally (and it’s about time), how about this? I’m sent to the grocery store and told to get sweet potatoes and when I get home, I’m told I got yams. I realize I don’t know the difference between sweet potatoes and yams and, yup, I feel stupid.

Oh, and what about TV remotes? They are intentionally designed to make the user feel stupid. (One of the buttons on ours I fear would send the Strategic Air Command on a nuclear attack on Moscow.)

But I am relieved to know now that all this is only artificial stupidity. I hope my intelligence ain’t. (Oops, better brush up on your usage, pal.  Ain’t ain’t no real word…stupid.) 

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org.