The Seven Plagues of D.C.

Ah, change! I've written several times before how our local news media gird their loins every year, awaiting Winter and the chance to panic the city into a frenzied blood lust of survivalist rapine and slaughter. But it's Spring now, and not even the slack-jawed yokels on the edge of our Byzantium would believe the reports of White Doom. And so we now have swine flu. A disease that is so malevolent, that it has killed almost as many people on earth in three weeks, as die in a DC rap club in one night.
The Post has led the charge, fully half of its ink is committed to huge headlines and breathless pronouncements about the end of the world. There is already talk of closing the schools, and if so much as one brat has the sniffles, I guarantee that they'll do so, ("Wussy" has become a badge of honor in our brave new world). The Vice President, (who is not an epidemiologist, but plays one on TV) has already told us that we shouldn't ride the Metro, thereby guaranteeing that our pathetic road network will become nothing more than the world's most violent parking lot. Thanks, Joe.
Despite the Post's attempts to ONLY show photos of people wearing breathing masks, I've not seen anyone resort to that, yet. And it's a good thing. Because I am quite capable of imitating someone in the final death-throes of leprosy/plague/creeping crud, and will run up to that person and give them the biggest and warmest hug they've ever gotten. You have been warmed.
Meanwhile, a real honest-to-god curse has hit us - oak pollen. Now, I love oaks. I love their looks, their shade, their symbolism/mythology; I even love their firewood, (I've got about two cords right now). But every great love has a flaw. Perhaps they snore loudly in their sleep, or eat with their mouth open, or never replace the empty toilet paper roll. Well, with oaks, it's pollen. And my gods, is it bad this year. Everything and everyone is covered by about an inch of yellow dust. My car looks like it's in a Shake'N'Bake commercial. Breathing has become something like vacuuming, there's so much dust. At times, my backyard looks like it's snowing. And when it rains, it forms a yellowish, snotty ooze. And then there's my keen sense of morality and decorum. All of this pollen, you know what it is - it's trees fucking. There, now I've ruined it for you too. Who wants to be outside in THAT!
So, for those of you in the desert, or some other inhospitable place - rejoice! You can escape our plagues. And for those of you who are nitpickers and are noticing that I promised seven plagues and only named three, I can only say that the flu has driven me mad