“Should we agree to roll up our sleeves and take this rushed through, experimental gene therapy deeply into the deltoid…?

You see, we’re immersed in crushing, foreseeable, avoidable debt, and the time’s come to step up our chances of contracting a serious illness. One which would see us laid up for a good, say six months…

Please God? Pretty please?

A delightful, lengthy hospital stay, oh Great One, would give us a breather, and buy us some time. Then, from the warmth of our publicly funded sick bed, we could get busy with a much-needed review of the family budget, quickly identifying where the yawning black holes are, and what we need to focus on; a. quit squandering precious cash, b. consolidate, c. pay off threatening, asshole creditors, d. take stock and, e. keep the wolf from the door.

There’s nothing better than a life-threatening, serious, adverse event from this rushed through Moderna / Pfizer gene therapy to a. buy us time, b. clear the gathering clouds, c. call off the hounds, d. steady the ship, e. inject some much-needed fear, and f. grant us a few misgivings over our very existence on earth.

Bliss.

Conversely, oh Mighty One, when money’s short, there’s nothing worse than a pesky, lengthy period of tip-top health for drawing across a veil of pessimism. We may well be fighting fit and feeling we could take on the world, but the longer this resilience persists, the sooner it makes us vulnerable to drooling, neoliberal jackals and countless parasitical nasties. They’re never very far away, blighting our horizons, infesting our lives, and carving out their greedy existences. And before you know it, they’ve attached their nozzles to our exposed, pulsating jugulars and switched them to *suck*.

So we say bring it on, Lord in heaven. We beseech thee. You work in mysterious ways, so work us a favour for a change. Grant us a well-earned break. But be careful with this manifestation. Go easy. Just a little touch on that lever of fate, please. A nice, manageable six months will do. Not an eternity, slumped in purgatory or turning, screaming on a spit in Hades, because that would be seriously uncalled for. Love ya!

Cheers and thanks for your time…!!”