Before you start hemorrhaging blood from every orifice, Ebola’s initial symptoms are cunningly prosaic — likely mistaken for modern ailments such as a hangover, depression, food poisoning, and the common cold — which is the mark of a great virus; evolutionarily, a virus survives by usurping their host unbeknownst to them. It may remain dormant for up to three weeks after successfully contracting. A quick wiki of the symptoms, in light of the current outbreak, has me rather pensive, as should you.
Do you feel nausea? I am nauseous right now, which I can attribute to various qualms in my life. I’m also exhibiting about two-thirds of these symptoms (due to some “bad” Poutine, a little too much Bourbon last night, and an overall negative outlook on life). I haven’t been eating any monkeys as of late, just my pride. Maybe hypochondria is a subconscious death wish. Maybe a narcissist shouldn’t have internet access. This is hardly a suicide letter, but if this is indeed my last post, my posthumous biographers now have a strong case.