Disconcerted to find himself suffering from a recalcitrant case of COVID vaccine hesitancy, Hector Romano of Nashville, Tennessee, embarked on a journey to understand his own motives – and wound up confronting some painful personal truths.
“I’m a sociopath,” he said. “It’s the only possible explanation. Either that, or I’m possessed by the devil. But the sociopath thing seems more likely.”
Romano went on to describe the thought process that led to his ultimate conclusion that he is a sociopath.
“It was bizarro,” he said, referring to his initial instinctive reluctance to avail himself of the emergency-authorized injection produced by companies like Pfizer and its subsidiaries, which, over past decades, have been assessed $3 billion in criminal convictions, civil penalties and jury awards. “I’d never before experienced any desire to think independently or take ownership over my own health decisions. So why was I looking for any and every excuse not to get this latest greatest jab?”
Determined to understand his vaccine hesitancy, Romano decided to probe deeper, first considering exploring whether he could possibly, unbeknownst to even himself, be an anti-vaxer.
That wasn’t it, he found. “I can only assume that being anti-vax requires some basic working knowledge of vaccines,” he said. “And I’m just not a science guy. Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Romano next wondered whether his injection-aversion could conceivably stem from the fact that COVID vaccine manufacturers are immune from liability for vaccine-related injuries.
He quickly dismissed that theory as well. “I’m not litigious, and I’m also not very organized,” he said. “Honestly, even if a shot did really mess me up, I can’t see myself getting my act together enough to sue anyone. So no skin off my back if these companies are protected.”
Romano likewise rejected the theory that what was fueling his vaccine hesitancy was that the novel new mRNA injection had been authorized only for emergency use and was not FDA-approved. “If anything, not having FDA approval is a badge of honor,” he pointed out. “Do you know the kind of garbage they’ve approved?”
Last but not least, Romano considered the possibility that, after weighing the risks of the untested-on-humans COVID-19 injection against the risks of becoming infected with a disease with a 0.3-percent mortality rate, he’d made an informed decision to brave the latter rather than the former.
Frank self-assessment forced him to reject that theory, too. “Weighing pros and cons isn’t exactly my style,” said Romano. “And I’m pretty big on taking dangerous risks.”
Having discarded all other possible explanations, Romano was left to conclude that his vaccine hesitancy could only be indicative that he suffers from the personality disorder that manifests itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and utter lack of conscience. “Sheer process of elimination,” he said, shaking his head. “What’re you gonna do?”
As difficult as the reality that he is a sociopath and has zero compassion for other living beings initially was for him to accept, Romano says that he has found some comfort in acknowledging this personal truth. “I can finally stop apologizing for being selfish for not getting the vaccine,” he said. “Sociopaths don’t worry too much about that sort of thing.”
What are Romano’s recommendations for those, like him, who found themselves running for the hills the moment Big Pharma rolled out its rushed-through emergency-authorized injection?
“Contact the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention or your local health department for support,” he said without hesitation. Then, he chuckled. “Just kidding. Do anything but that.”