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My computer is being a pig tonight, so I’ll keep this brief. I’d forgotten somebody picked Thomas Duncan — ebola man — in the Dead Pool. Homer, to be exact. Step forward, Homer, and accept dick.

That reminds me. I did an inventory of dick winners this weekend. I have addresses for everybody I need, except: Carl (win #3), Scott the Badger (is that #2 for you?), hutch (did we meet in Boston that time?), platypuss (I was sure you’d sent me an address, but I can’t find it) and drew458 (is that #2 for you, too?). Just because you’ve won before doesn’t mean I can easily work out your address. Don’t be shy. You’ve won dick, fair and square.

Nope. Never gets old.

Once again, thanks for your patience. I’ve started to build drawing time into my day again, but I’m mighty rusty.

By the way, don’t indulge in a sigh or relief just yet, re: ebola. We seem to have a calming, especially outside Africa, but the BIG ones start with a few fizzles before they really get going. The Great Flu pandemic of 1918 was preceded by a little hiccup of an outbreak six months before. And I think they traced the AIDS Patient Zero back decades before anyone noticed a sudden weird uptick of Kaposi’s sarcoma in San Fran.

One of the things that can turn a local outbreak into raging pandemic is large groups of people living in close proximity. It’s not the spread so much as the opportunity to mutate rapidly. Like the barracks of WWI. Or — widely rumored — the immigrant camps of 2014 that may have given us a more aggressive Enterovirus D68.

And on that cheery note — see you back here,
Friday, 6pm WBT, Dead Pool Round 70!

October 21, 2014 — 10:27 pm
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