Vaccines are one of the most important, necessary measures of preventative medicine. They protect
us from all kinds of diseases—from measles to mumps to cooties. And there's a reason
vaccines are so safe. They represent years of clinical testing. You wouldn't believe
how long it took scientists to arrive at “circle, circle, dot, dot.” Vaccine development involves
four steps, much like my early 2000's NSYNC obsession. I crushed on all of them except
Chris. I'm sorry, honey, I tried. You are a good person who made a bad hair decision
for, like, three years. Vaccine development starts with pre-clinical testing, when scientists
give vaccines to animals such as mice to see if they produce an immune response. No one
wants to talk about it, but that's how Stuart Little died. Next comes Phase One, when scientists
give the vaccine to a small number of people to ensure that it's safe and that it stimulates
the immune system. This is followed by Phase Two, when the vaccine is given to a slightly
larger sample size—hundreds of people, split into various groups. This tells us how the
vaccine acts on different people, for example, on children, the elderly, or on people who
will miss Tosh.0. Drugs just hit them different. Finally, vaccines enter Phase Three efficacy
trials, when scientists give thousands of volunteers either the vaccine or a placebo
and wait to see what happens. It's like that time the popular kids invited me to a high
school party, and tricked me into thinking I got drunk on O'Doul's instead of real beer.
Phase Three determines if vaccines will protect against coronavirus. This phase is especially
crucial, because it's when the sample size is large enough to reveal rarer side effects
that may have been missed. It's also far more responsible than Trump's original plan: offering
the virus a job as the new White House press secretary. In order to accurately predict
how the vaccine will work, it has to be tested on thousands of people of different ages,
ethnicities, sexes, and body sizes. But alarmingly, early COVID-19 vaccine trials have lacked
diverse participants. - A critical piece of effective trials is
having a diverse population of volunteers to ensure that the vaccine is safe and effective
for all populations. And right now, some trials may be falling short.
- Pfzier, amidst their ongoing Phase Three trial, announced that only 19% of their volunteers
were Black or Hispanic. These numbers have disappointed some health officials.
- Out of 45 participants, I was one of two Black individuals who participated.
Jesus! There was more diversity at the annual Speed Dating Poutine-Fest in Toronto! Those
were great nights. As they say in Canada, "if the poutine is filling, the poontang is
willing." Unlike Moleskine notebooks or the movie Greenberg, the COVID-19 vaccine isn't
just for white men. Recruiting Black volunteers for testing may be harder, due to the country's
history of forced medical testing on Black Americans, which has resulted in distrust
of the medical industry. But Black Americans are twice as likely as white Americans to
die from COVID-19, and that's why it's so important that they're represented in the
trials. If just one person has a serious adverse reaction in a vaccine trial of a thousand
participants, it means more than 300,000 people could experience adverse reactions if everyone
in America took it. At least when KFC tested out their doughnut chicken sandwich, they
only risked the RoboCop Colonel. It was weird for many reasons, but especially because feeding
chicken to a RoboCop will kill him. Historically, vaccine testing moves slowly, because the
human body responds slowly. The vaccines most likely to be distributed in the coming months
are mRNA vaccines. They're a brand new kind of vaccine that deploy a tiny snip of genetic
code called messenger RNA to trigger the immune system. They're attractive because they may
be cheaper, easier, faster to manufacture, and that a**. This breakthrough science is
exciting, and we need this vaccine! But we also need to devote enough time to make sure
it's safe. - It's going to take at least a year follow-up
to know a vaccine is safe. So, we're not going to know the most important thing for our children
and our older people who are going to be sensitive taking this, whether it's safe or not. You
just aren't going to know. - I must warn that there's also the possibility
of negative consequences, where certain vaccines can actually enhance the negative effect of
the infection. That warning is so stressful, even Fauci couldn't
look us in the eye to say it! Either that or his notes included a diagram of that hot
a**. Just as we need the vaccine to be safe, we also need people to trust it. In order
for it to be effective, an estimated 200 million Americans have to take it. And folks, it's
not looking so good. - Here's the NBC News SurveyMonkey poll. Less
than half of Americans even want a vaccine at this point. "Would you get a government-approved
COVID-19 vaccine?" Only 44% of the country says yes. 32%, not sure. 22% say no. So even
if we had it, it's not clear that everyone trusts the government anymore and plans to
take it. If a vaccine is 50% effective, as the FDA
has promised it will be, but only 44% of people take it, that means only 22% of people are
protected. I mean, can you imagine if you could only protect 22% percent of NSYNC? That's
only enough to save Justin Timberlake and Chris Kirkpatrick's old hair. And why would
you want to save either? A lot is riding on the rollout of the COVID-19 vaccine. In addition
to fighting this pandemic, any misstep—be it in efficacy, messaging, or distribution—could
embolden anti-vaxxers and erode America's already shaky public trust in vaccines. But
make no mistake: we need vaccines. Vaccines are the only reason people don't get smallpox
and Jonas Salk got laid. Most importantly, we need to trust our government to distribute
a vaccine based on when it's safe and effective, not when it's most politically valuable. If
Trump rushes a vaccine before it's ready, there's a chance things could get really ugly.
Much like Chris Kirkpatrick's hair circa 1998. I’m sorry, Chris. It’s just true.