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Did Susanna Give Me The Corona?

The question was posed this morning and I can't really fault anyone for suggesting that I'd be a corona carrier. If we're a successful betting man, I'm an extremely strong candidate across the population of Barstool employees. From a reckless standpoint, I'm exceeded only by a select few. My thirst for getting weird is insatiable while my risk tolerance competes with anyone on payroll. I'm a sucker for bodily fluids and being a bad boy. Nothing in my background would suggest otherwise. I'm a candidate to carry. 

But somewhere along the way, my sweet Susanna gets dragged into the conversation. Apparently her hot tub is an alleged breeding ground for disease and not love, and I simply can't stand for it. 

Am I more likely to contract an infectious disease as the 73rd person in that tub on a Sunday morning? Probably. 

Did my pee burn for a little bit after that video? Maybe. 

But what people are missing is that my immune system evolved from that Sunday in November. Since then my white blood cells have quadrupled in both size and number. At this point I basically sweat hydrogen peroxide and splooge Neopsporin. To call me a carrier is to ignore the human condition and our inherent ability to adapt and survive. 

Susanna didn't expose me. She strengthened me, and I'm a better man for it. 

Show some respect.