The blues swell, filling the room as the harmonica takes over your soul. When his Northern Irish voice croons, you think, “Well, if this isn’t the most beautiful, heart-wrenching song I’ve ever heard.”
That is, if you aren’t a kid who has been drugged-up with vaccinations. No, that kid just goes, “I feel nothing, for I am a shell of a human being. Please pass the hand sanitizer and a Costco value-pack of Flintstones vitamins.”
Pathetic. Kids today have it so goddamn easy. It’s time to wake up, sheeple. Vaccines are preventing kids from experiencing the deepest evocation of human pain that has ever existed: Van Morrison’s epic 9-minute and 34-second-long classic “T.B. Sheets.”
In this tragically captivating composition, Van lays bare the pain of watching his friend Julie succumb to tuberculosis. Van puts it all out there, even mentioning that he, a man, cried. Gives me chills every time.
“T.B. Sheets” is real. It’s uncut. It’s raw. You don’t need chemicals shot into your arm to know a good time. Our kids should understand the fragility of life. They should recognize how sweat and mucus-soaked sheets can inspire one to write a brilliantly devastating melodic story. If we take away their ability to feel life at its darkest, say goodbye to any of them creating new soul-crushing masterpieces.
Do you want endless versions of “Brown-Eyed Girl” instead? Don’t get me started on that one. Numbs my brain.
When Van references Julie’s tuberculosis in the song, vaccinated kids are emotionally unable to connect with it. They can’t envision the spray of sputum catching the sunlight shining through the crack in the windowpane. They can’t hear her thick, wet cough. Their charmed, healthy lives have rendered them soft.
Who is Julie? Who is JULIE?! Oh, come on. Every Van fan knows who JULIE is. If we keep vaccinating kids, what will they ask next, “What’s a doctor?” Unacceptable.
Vaccinated kids can live to what, like 97 years old now? Who wants to be a 97-year-old kid? Give me a life where you can step into Van the Man’s bereaved shoes as he watches this woman he cherishes be absolutely pulverized by a disease that pretty much knocked out civilization in the 1800s.
Heck, my own father wasn’t vaccinated and he lived a full, rich life. My favorite memory is of him in his study, pounding back a bottle of whiskey, listening to “T.B. Sheets” on his record player. I was six. Sadly, he passed a year later from chickenpox. What a brave man.
So take your recyclable sippy straw out of your portion-controlled orange juice full of antioxidants and let me give it to you raw: Vaccinations are robbing the world of culture. We should let kids decide for themselves whether they want them or not, so that they may have a chance to endure the shattering heartbreak and despair found in “T.B. Sheets.”