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73% of new COVID cases in the USA last week were the Omicron variant

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The Omicron variant causes over 73% of new coronavirus cases in the US, according to estimates posted Monday by the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

The week ending Dec. 18, Omicron accounted for 73.2% of cases, with delta making up an additional 26.6%.

The week prior, ending Dec. 11, Omicron was estimated at 12.6% of circulating virus, versus Delta’s 87%. Previously, the CDC estimated Omicron accounted for about 3% that week.

The week ending Dec. 4, Omicron caused less than 1% of new cases.

Omicron is even more prevalent in certain parts of the country — making up over 95% of circulating virus in parts of the northwest and southeast.

The relative severity of this variant is still unclear.

David Wallace-Wells had an interesting thread on Thursday, about the ambiguous data coming out of South Africa, where the variant was first identified:

We’re going to need some good luck on this one.

“Do you feel absolutely no concern for your future, boy?”


“Oh, I feel some concern for my future, all right.

“Sure. Sure, I do.” I thought about it for a minute. “But not too much, I guess. Not too much, I guess.”


“You will,” old Spencer said. “You will, boy. You will when it’s too late.”


I didn’t like hearing him say that. It made me sound dead or something. It was very depressing. “I guess I will,” I said.


“I’d like to put some sense in that head of yours, boy. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help you, if I can.”


He really was, too. You could see that. But it was just that we were too much on opposite sides ot the pole, that’s all. “I know you are, sir,” I said. “Thanks a lot. No kidding. I appreciate it. I really do.” I got up from the bed then. Boy, I couldn’t’ve sat there another ten minutes to save my life.

“The thing is, though, I have to get going now. I have quite a bit of equipment at the gym I have to get to take home with me. I really do.”

He looked up at me and started nodding again, with this very serious look on his face. I felt sorry as hell for him, all of a sudden. But I just couldn’t hang around there any longer, the way we were on opposite sides of the pole, and the way he kept missing the bed whenever he chucked something at it, and his sad old bathrobe with his chest showing, and that grippy smell of Vicks Nose Drops all over the place.

“Look, sir. Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I mean it. I’ll be all right. I’m just going through a phase right now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don’t they?”


“I don’t know, boy. I don’t know.”


I hate it when somebody answers that way. “Sure. Sure, they do,” I said. “I mean it, sir. Please don’t worry about me.” I sort of put my hand on his shoulder. “Okay?” I said.


“Wouldn’t you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go? Mrs. Spencer would be-
-“


“I would, I really would, but the thing is, I have to get going. I have to go right to the gym. Thanks, though. Thanks a lot, sir.”


Then we shook hands. And all that crap. It made me feel sad as hell, though.


“I’ll drop you a line, sir. Take care of your grippe, now.”


“Good-by, boy.”


After I shut the door and started back to the living room, he yelled something at me, but I couldn’t exactly hear him. I’m pretty sure he yelled “Good luck!” at me, I hope to hell not. I’d never yell “Good luck!” at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.

The Catcher in the Rye

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