Staff photo by Kevin Jacobus^^Mike Morin, 7/19/2005.

Time for your six-month check-up. You’ve been living in this strange COVID world since March. There have been consequences.

Starbucks and Dunkin’ jumped on the pumpkin spice beverage wagon earlier than ever, much to the delight of some and annoyance to the others. Count me among those happy to get my hands on those frosted pumpkin doughnuts. I know. I shouldn’t be using my hands. Fact: After 64 years, Kentucky Fried Chicken has dropped their iconic slogan, “finger lickin’ good.”

The Colonel would be horrified. Forks and knives be damned. For us guys, nothing beats choking down a greasy, crispy, deep-fried chicken breast, then using our pants as a napkin to remove the excess oil. Just hit those bad boys with a couple squirts of Shout when you get home and they’ll be ready for your next fine dining experience. After all, the pandemic took away our paper products, so trousers became the new Bounty paper towels.

Speaking of chicken, we should have known the plague was coming. The Bible’s Book of Revelations warned that riots caused by the Popeye chicken sandwich shortage would lead to a global illness. As predicted, Coronavirus came and took our minds off the cluckin’ shortage.

There have been other pandemic curses. Personal interaction has been replaced with Zoom meetings. As an apparent result, I frequently find myself having nightmares that I’m on Hollywood Squares. I say something funny and Paul Lynde scowls at me. Thanks, COVID.

Grocery shopping has never been stranger. Not once have I seen a Lysol or Clorox product on any store shelf. Seriously, how hard can it be to dip a bunch of dryer sheets in alcohol-soaked vats and ship ’em to Shaw’s? And the past toilet paper shortage was real. Just to wrap up the t.p. shortage, the average household goes through 159 rolls every year. So, what were we using for those months when Charmin was M.I.A.?

I wasn’t hoarding toilet paper, but I’ve begun buying pepperoni by the pallet. There is a shortage of America’s favorite pizza topping. The Bible predicted that one, too. Specifically, the book of Proverbs and Italian herbs foretells of more hardships and the inevitable demise of Papa John’s.

Then there were no bicycles to be found. My daughter, her husband and 5-year old Colin took a daytrip from Roslindale to Waterbury, Vermont. It was the closet place to Boston that still had bikes.

People are gaining weight. The “quarantine fifteen,” it’s called. My daughter and son-in-law lost 15-pounds riding their bikes from Vermont to Boston. Colin drove the car back. They also very wisely skipped the Ben & Jerry’s tour, also in Waterbury and pedaled their new wheels south.

So what do the next six-months hold? If there is Halloween in another month, every other kid will be dressed as epidemiologist Dr. Fauchy. A few will offer a vaccine vial in exchange for a full-sized Oh Henry! candy bar. Others will come dressed as Robert Kraft, hoping someone puts Tom Brady in his sack.

Contact Mike Morin at mike morinmedia@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at @MikeMorinMedia. His column runs the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month.

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