Now Sicke as a Dog

*Disclaimer* I’m sick.

This is my warning. I use illness as an opportunity (excuse) to let my freak flag fly. This post will not be nice. I will employ all the bad words if impulse prevails; I might create new ones, and might belittle ye of small mind. It looks like I may also occasionally revert to Olde English (adding E to the end of every third worde.)

I will speak Pirate as well, because I hit my head once and now think primarily in Pirate. This is a malady I share with all football players who have been concussed… maybe not.

I will put commas where I want to, or nowhere a-tall. Fuck the grammar police! Rules do not apply to this post. It’s a free flow punctuation day. And no! I don’t care about your uncle Jack and his horse.

Being “as sick as a dog” impelled me to research the origin and meaning of the idiom. That led me to countless (so many) articles claiming the phrase was coined in the year 1705. Thaarrr it ends.

Let’s take a moment to listen this man splain it to us, on YouTube-

Blah blah blah,,,In the year 1705 dogs lived outside, were treated poorly, and were often sick. (This is higher learning at its best.) Thanks, dude.

Everyone on the internet has the same answer. It’s almost like they googled it then wrote a post based on the first thing that popped up. LayZ, is not my nom de plume.

Fear not landlubbers, I searched deeper and found me treasure. How? I did not stope at page one nor two. For those who did and added their own remix essay to the internet I say-

WRONG, DUMMIES.

“Now sicke as a dog,”

Harvey’s Works, 1592.

Harvey used the idiom in “Foure Letters and Certaine Sonnets.” Go ahead, read them if you are among the haters who want me to be wrong. The thing about a turn of phrase is that Harvey probably heard it said, or read it writ, prior to penning it ‘imself, mate. This brings me to a point that is not the point. Nothing is original.

Now to my story. Like I said, (scroll up) I’m as sick as a dog.

Intrigued? It started withe a retching cough. Twas worse than any retching cough in the history of mankinde. No man, male or female, of any kinde has ever retched so severely.

Not enough?

Then came the body aches. This was hard for me to discern because I have chronic nerve pain due to a spinal injury. Twer varied.

I am in a medieval dungeon, chained to an iron torture device called “the rack” pulled and twisted in different directions by my head and limbs. Then some guy wearing tights and puffy shorts, who looks a lot like Harvey, kicks me in the ribs.

Still not exciting enough?

Fever, chills, and congestion. Just use your imagination. I will not discuss explosive diarrhea,,, because I don’t have that? Nor would I admit it if I did.

Here is my problem, I took a Covid test on Friday, (because they’re free again) and ‘twas,,, negatory—

Not Covid? — 😭 How do I validate my suffering?

This might just be a man colde.

According to Google search results: I am not a man, as such, I must eliminate ‘man-cold’ from my self diagnostic chart.

Oh, for the love of masking. Why did I quit you? I succumbed to peer pressure. For two years, I did not so much as sneeze. I’ve had all the vaccines-covid and flu.

And speaking of dogs, why can’t me fooking dogs feed themselves? [Sob]

After three miserable days, (why meeee?) one of the people I spawned suggested I take another Covid test. I did and for the first time ever I DO have Covid.

Flashback— Did I tell you Thanksgiving was cancelled because my very selfish sister contracted Covid? She cancelled Thanksgiving for everyone. If you celebrated that holiday, you shouldn’t have. You must have missed her group text: “Thanksgiving is cancelled!”

(She reads my posts sometimes, and this might get me in trouble.)

Speaking of family, another person I spawned, the one with a big life in New York, tells me Covid is “sooo two years ago.” It’s like when people drove Hummers in 2002. I’m unfashionable… and as sicke as a dog. [no energy left to sob]

Save yourself, and the rest of the holiday season before my sister cancels it. Go back to masking. [whaling sob]

In closing, behold the field in which I grow my fucks; look thou upon it and thou shalt see tis barren.

~~Fin~~