It can be a heavy burden to be the bringer of bad news, whether it's having to sit your family down to break the news that no, they aren't going to bring back Quake any time soon, or inform an anxious readership about the 437th COVID variant spreading its reign of unpleasantness throughout the land.
You may have heard of the FLiRT variants already. If you haven't, there are going to be some very disappointed journalists that's for sure. You can tell by their moans of despair over your lack of interest, although you'll have to listen carefully as they are usually muffled under two N95 masks held in place with a Palestinian flag.
Why the new variants are called "FLiRT?" I turned to the experts at Yale Medicine to find out:
In April, a group of new virus strains known as the FLiRT variants (based on the technical names of their two mutations) began to spread, followed in June by a variant known as LB.1.
Ohhhh, I get it.
(No I don't.)
I decided to check in with the John Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health which you can tell is even more prestigious due to their name having so many more words in it.
This is the term being used to describe a whole family of different variants — including KP.2, JN.1.7, and any other variants starting with KP or JN — that appear to have independently picked up the same set of mutations.
The particular mutations that people refer to as "FLiRT"s or "FLip"s refer to specific positions in the spike protein — in this case, positions 456, 346, and 572.
What is this, some kind of codebreaker test?
Kind of. I had to eventually turn to the extremely prestigious panel of experts at the Today Show.
'Each amino acid has its own letter abbreviation. FLiRT is F456L + R346T, or phenylalanine (F) to leucine (L) at position 456 and arginine (R) to threonine (T) at position 346,' says Gregory.
Sure, I guess.
And yes, if you're starting to think this is more marketing than anything else, you'd be right.
'I think clear, accessible communication is important for getting across the fact that the virus is still widespread and evolving rapidly,' Gregory tells TODAY.com.
Previously, in 2023, scientists came up with the nickname 'FLip' for variants with another combination of mutations (L455F + F456L). Inspired by 'FLip,' Gregory suggested 'FLiRT' for the latest strains.
Nicknames like FLiRT help make sense of the 'variant soup,' Gregory wrote in a tweet.
Now if only they could make sense of their endless, if waning, hysteria.
Speaking of which, the experts at Today end with the customary set of cautions.
Despite its playful name, the new set of COVID-19 variants are nothing to joke about. It's important to take precautions against COVID-19 and keep up to date with vaccinations to prevent severe disease and complications.
'Mitigations like respirators, ventilation, air filtration and avoiding exposure are all variant-proof and will work against FLiRT,' says Gregory.
Yes, they still want you to wear masks, socially distance, shelter in place, and get your booster shots.
Why so fearful?
According to the LA Times, we are facing a whole new level of unpleasantness, possibly extreme unpleasantness which I think is the highest level of unpleasantness there is.
Since everyone's experience with COVID is different and influenced by a number of factors, it's difficult to quantify how many are experiencing more acute symptoms now compared with previous infections.
But they're not going to let that stop them, not when they can use anecdotal evidence (pretty much the gold standard of the nation's newsrooms) and the most reliable source of information there is:
The Internet.
But anecdotally, including on social media sites, people are expressing shock at how sick they've become from the latest subvariants, which have been collectively nicknamed FLiRT.
'I've had COVID a few times but this is the worst I've had it,' wrote one person on Reddit. The person reported recurring fever, being so congested they couldn't breathe out of their nose…
Couldn't. Breathe. Out. Their. Nose.
That describes pretty much every single spring and summer in my twenties when my seasonal allergies were at their height.
Thankfully the good Lord saw fit to give us two places to breathe out of, otherwise I would never have lived long enough to find out who shot J.R.
Also, I've forgotten who shot J.R.
There's still more.
… 'terrible sinus pressure and headache ... and I can't stand up for too long without feeling like I'm about to pass out.'
So, like the flu, only with a cooler name and a more tightly defined vulnerability group.
Another person wrote that their 'throat feels like razor blades' and that they feel like they're 'in living misery.'
How many of us have had a very bad sore throat and lived to tell the tale? I'm guessing no more than 99.9%.
'I have so much phlegm, but it hurts so bad to cough because my throat is on literal fire!!' the person wrote. 'This is my 4th time having COVID and I swear I feel like this is the worst it's ever been!!'
I feel the need to say this: If your throat is on literal fire, COVID is not the problem. The problem is your house is burning down. You need to go outside.
A 42-year-old nurse, who has had COVID four times, said their latest illness has been 'intense with fevers, cough, head pressure and pain. It's attacking my throat and ability to swallow.'
A 42-year-old nurse who had gotten COVID four times? Well, that's probably one less than the number of vaccine shots she's had, so there's that.
The LA Times also wants to know who's ready for another booster?
It's also notable that, even for younger adults who are considered up-to-date on their COVID immunizations, it's been nearly a year since their last vaccination, and the effectiveness of the vaccine weakens over time.
Alas, this is more than just a news story to me, it's personal.
And so it is my unhappy task to report that the unpleasantness wreaked by FLiRT touched my own family not long ago.
My wife and I both got the initial rounds of the Moderna vaccine in 2021. I was indifferent, but she wanted me to, and at the time my biggest concern was the long-term side effects which were unknowable. I did consider this, but I decided that at my age I need to worry about the long-term side effects of a vaccine about as much as I need to worry about the geopolitical ramifications of plate tectonics.
Regardless, as time passed and I became increasingly convinced of the lack of efficacy combined with heightened risks associated with repeated doses, I was able to convince her to forgo any more shots, and neither of us have ever gotten any booster.
I also refused, despite enormous initial pressure, to have my then preteen son vaccinated (as in "over my dead body"), and he remains so today.
(Of course, I am reliably informed by my betters that this left us all vulnerable to the scourge of FLiRT.)
My wife was the first struck down. Well, not down. More sideways. She definitely had unpleasant symptoms: headache, some lethargy, and chills.
To make things worse, my son and I kind of forgot to practice transmission mitigation while my wife was sick. I swear, I meant to brush up on the latest recommendations from the World Health Organization, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and the National Institutes of Health ... but I had some Pop-Tarts in the toaster and was afraid they were going to burn, so, you know, priorities.
As you might have already guessed, the next person to be struck was… well, nobody. Neither my son nor I exhibited any symptoms.
This creates an interesting contrast with the multiple-boosted Covid patients coming down with FLiRT as reported in the LA Times. (I'll note here that we all came down with COVID back in 2022, my wife with moderate symptoms, me with very mild, and my son with essentially none.)
As much as I'm inclined to rename the FLiRT variant, anagram-style, to "TRiFL," I feel I should concede that YMMV. My 90-something mother-in-law has had every booster they've offered. I really don't worry about the vaccine with her, I mean, long-term at that age is a magazine subscription.
Still, if all you've got is "unpleasantness," I feel like you are no longer beating a dead horse. You are beating the ground where there used to be a dead horse, but he was carted off a couple years ago, so maybe put down the stick and give it a rest, huh?
In the meantime, the rest of us will likely be playing Covid roulette.
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