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by Chris Ware via:newyorker

» The voice in my mind nagged me all through October: “Get your flu shots.” An otherwise fairly responsible parent, I was for some reason late to the inoculation party this year, a tardiness for which I had no real excuse, especially amid the Dallas Ebola scare, which sent me and my wife to our iPhones for the latest news when we should have been paying closer attention to more mundane matters of family health. But the real-life Hollywood movie appeared to have been green-lit, filming as we watched: the government was bumbling, the Dallas hospital was ass-covering, guys in yellow suits were disinfecting doorways in the middle of the night, parents were pulling their children out of school, protocols were being breached, caution was abundant, and soon, surely, we’d all be fogging our safety goggles and duct-taping ourselves into homemade Hefty-bag hazmat suits to fight over potable water, probably even here in Oak «

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