Vaccine Me Quotes

Van Houten, I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time – and from what I saw, you have plenty – I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently. Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease. I want to leave a mark. But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion. (Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.) We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can’t stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it’s silly and useless – epically useless in my current state – but I am an animal like any other. Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either. People will say it’s sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it’s not sad, Van Houten. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. Isn’t that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm. The real heroes anyway aren’t the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn’t actually invented anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn’t get smallpox. After my PET scan lit up, I snuck into the ICU and saw her while she was unconscious. I just walked in behind a nurse with a badge and I got to sit next to her for like ten minutes before I got caught. I really thought she was going to die, too. It was brutal: the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive care. She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar. A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that visitors weren’t allowed, and I asked if she was doing okay, and the guy said, “She’s still taking on water.” A desert blessing, an ocean curse. What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.

You think man can destroy the planet? What intoxicating vanity. Let me tell you about our planet. Earth is four-and-a-half-billion-years-old. There's been life on it for nearly that long, 3.8 billion years. Bacteria first; later the first multicellular life, then the first complex creatures in the sea, on the land. Then finally the great sweeping ages of animals, the amphibians, the dinosaurs, at last the mammals, each one enduring millions on millions of years, great dynasties of creatures rising, flourishing, dying away -- all this against a background of continuous and violent upheaval. Mountain ranges thrust up, eroded away, cometary impacts, volcano eruptions, oceans rising and falling, whole continents moving, an endless, constant, violent change, colliding, buckling to make mountains over millions of years. Earth has survived everything in its time. It will certainly survive us. If all the nuclear weapons in the world went off at once and all the plants, all the animals died and the earth was sizzling hot for a hundred thousand years, life would survive, somewhere: under the soil, frozen in Arctic ice. Sooner or later, when the planet was no longer inhospitable, life would spread again. The evolutionary process would begin again. It might take a few billion years for life to regain its present variety. Of course, it would be very different from what it is now, but the earth would survive our folly, only we would not. If the ozone layer gets thinner, ultraviolet radiation sears the earth, so what? Ultraviolet radiation is good for life. It's powerful energy. It promotes mutation, change. Many forms of life will thrive with more UV radiation. Many others will die out. Do you think this is the first time that's happened? Think about oxygen. Necessary for life now, but oxygen is actually a metabolic poison, a corrosive glass, like fluorine. When oxygen was first produced as a waste product by certain plant cells some three billion years ago, it created a crisis for all other life on earth. Those plants were polluting the environment, exhaling a lethal gas. Earth eventually had an atmosphere incompatible with life. Nevertheless, life on earth took care of itself. In the thinking of the human being a hundred years is a long time. A hundred years ago we didn't have cars, airplanes, computers or vaccines. It was a whole different world, but to the earth, a hundred years is nothing. A million years is nothing. This planet lives and breathes on a much vaster scale. We can't imagine its slow and powerful rhythms, and we haven't got the humility to try. We've been residents here for the blink of an eye. If we're gone tomorrow, the earth will not miss us.

Here's the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That's what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease. I want to leave a mark. But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, "They'll remember me now," but (a) they don't remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion. ... We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can't stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it's silly and useless--epically useless in my current state--but I am an animal like any other. Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We're as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we're not likely to do either. People will say it's sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it's not sad, Van Houten. It's triumphant. It's heroic. Isn't that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm. The real heroes anyway aren't the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn't actually invent anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn't get smallpox. ... But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar. ... What else? She is so beautiful. You don't get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.

If someone you know gets sick from taking a flu shot, you will be less likely to get one even if it is statistically safe. In fact, if you see a story on the news about someone dying from the flu shot, that one isolated case could me enough to keep you away from the vaccine forever. On the other hand, if you hear a news story about how eating sausage leads to anal cancer, you will be skeptical, because it has never happened to anyone you know, and sausage, after all, is delicious. The tendency to react more rapidly and to a greater degree when considering information you are familiar with is called the availability heuristic.

At the highest levels of the medical cartel, vaccines are a top priority because they cause a weakening of the immune system. I know that may be hard to accept, but its true. The medical cartel, at the highest level, is not out to help people, it is out to harm them, to weaken them. To kill them. At one point in my career, I had a long conversation with a man who occupied a high government position in an African nation. He told me that he was well aware of this. He told me that WHO is a front for these depopulation interests

I keep trying to forget, but I must remember. And gather the scattered continents of a self, once whole. Before they plant flags and boundary my destiny. Push down the watered mountains that blemish this soiled soul before the valleys of my conscience get the best of me. I'll need a passport just to simply reach the rest of me. A vaccination for a lesser god's bleak history.

There is no place for objective reality in personal relationships. Objective reality is great for getting trains to run on time or for developing an important vaccine, but for ferreting out which point of view is “valid” in an interpersonal transaction, it is a loser.

For you, not vaccinating me was a class thing. Upper-class delusionals can afford to indulge their paranoias only because the masses bear the so-called dangers of vaccinations.

Let’s talk about what’s become clear to me about vaccines. The vaccines contain human cells, specifically MRC5 and WI-38 cells, from aborted babies.

[I]t seems to me that a lot of the stranger ideas people have about medicine derive from an emotional struggle with the very notion of a pharmaceutical industry. Whatever our political leanings, we all feel nervous about profit taking any role in the caring professions, but that feeling has nowhere to go. Big pharma is evil; I would agree with that premise. But because people don’t understand exactly how big pharma is evil, their anger gets diverted away from valid criticisms—its role in distorting data, for example, or withholding lifesaving AIDS drugs from the developing world—and channeled into infantile fantasies. “Big pharma is evil,” goes the line of reasoning; “therefore homeopathy works and the MMR vaccine causes autism.” This is probably not helpful.

Don’t grieve at the stab. It’s only meant to free you. From the chains that bind you to the earth and shackle you to the shadows of people. The mirage of water cannot quench. But is so beautiful to the thirsty. I’m afraid. Of never knowing another life. Different. So different. If I let go, will You take me higher? Above grief, want, loss. Above all that I’ve ever known. Take me higher. Unbind me from the earth. Like a vaccine, it sickens, to make you stronger. The stab is temporary. The freedom, eternal.

I know you're on my side," an immunologist once remarked to me as we discussed the politics of vaccination. I did not agree with him, but only because I was uncomfortable with both sides, as I had seen them delineated. The debate over vaccination tends to be described with what the philosopher of science Donna Haraway would call "troubling dualisms." These dualisms pit science against nature, public against private, truth against imagination, self against other, thought against emotion, and man against woman.

Ask yourself, "What kind of evidence would convince me to change my mind?" If the answer is "no evidence could ever change my mind about vaccination," then you are putting yourself outside evidence-based rationality, outside the very critical thinking that first brought you to this point. In that case, to be consistent in your skepticism about science, next time you have an operation please ask your surgeon not to bother washing her hands.

Maybe something got stuck in his teeth." Hunter tapped his cards against the table. "Like, you know, feelings or something." "Zip it." I warned. "No. They're right. You're beaming." Sam frowned at me in abhorrence. "It's disgusting. People are trying to eat here." He dropped his sandwich onto his plate. "Leave him alone. I think is cute." Hunter took a pull of his beer. "Kill caught a case of the feels, and there's no vaccine for what he's experiencing.

Of course, I’m referring to the original. With Gene Wilder. Not the lame re-make with Depp. I like Depp. Don’t get me wrong. However, that rendition was totally spoiled by the single Umpa-Lumpa multiplied by however many in computer graphics. Awful.

College was out of our lives – for me like a lover I had overestimated for four years, for her like a painful vaccine someone else had told her was necessary.

For I hadn’t stood frozen at the revelation of Geilie’s pregnancy. It was something else I had seen that chilled me to the marrow of my bones. As Geilie had spun, white arms stretched aloft, I saw what she had seen when my own clothes were stripped away. A mark on one arm like the one I bore. Here, in this time, the mark of sorcery, the mark of a magus. The small, homely scar of a smallpox vaccination.

about vaccinating for a virus that may or may not protect against whatever strain came through didn’t sit well with me. We had enough shit in our bodies with hormones and chemicals in our foods and everyday pollutants. It didn’t make sense to subject ourselves to more, even if the hospital encouraged it.

In a devastating of example critical thinking gone bad, highly educated, deeply caring parents avoid the vaccinations that would protect their children from killer diseases. I love critical thinking and I admire scepticism, but only in a framework that respects evidence. So if you are sceptical about the measles vaccinations, I ask you to do two things. First, make sure you know what it looks like when a child dies of measles. Most children who catch measles recover, but there is still no cure and even with the best modern medicine, one or two in every thousand will die from it. Second, ask yourself, “What kind of evidence would convince me change my mind about vaccination. If the answer is ‘no evidence could ever change my mind about vaccination,” then you are putting yourself outside evidence-based rationality, outside the very critical thinking that first brought you to this point. In that case, to be consistent in your scepticism about science, next time you have an operation please ask your surgeon not to bother washing her hands.

the story of his day. “Americans love the idea of vaccinating Africans. What could be nicer than a photograph of dusty little Nigerian children lined up for inoculation on the front page of the New York Times? But for their own children the mothers of New York City find vaccinations passé. They say the vaccination is not sufficiently natural, that it could possibly cause something worse than it could prevent. I have spent the day trying to convince women with college educations to vaccinate their children and they argued with me.

Bullshit is everywhere.” (...) Then there’s the more pernicious bullshit… It comes in three flavors: Making bad things sound good… “Patriot Act.” Because “Are You Scared Enough to Let Me Look at All Your Phone Records Act” doesn’t sell… Number two: hiding bad things under mountains of bullshit. “Hey, a handful of billionaires can’t buy our elections, right?” “Of course not. They can only pour unlimited, anonymous cash into a 501( c)( 4) if 50 percent is devoted to ‘issue education’”… And finally, my favorite: the bullshit of infinite possibility… “We cannot take action on climate change until everyone in the world agrees gay marriage vaccines won’t cause our children to marry goats who are coming for our guns. Until then, I say we teach the controversy.” So I say to you, friends: The best defense against bullshit is vigilance. So if you smell something, say something. ~Jon Stewart

What I'm going to do," the doctor continued, "is take my modified, time-released Dewrilium and market it as a new Varicella vaccine. My original plan was to do something wonderful for the world, out of the goodness of my heart, but Devon and Eli convinced me to take my idea to the next level.

...on opening the incubator I experienced one of those rare moments of intense emotion which reward the research worker for all his pains: at first glance I saw that the broth culture, which the night before had been very turbid was perfectly clear: all the bacteria had vanished... as for my agar spread it was devoid of all growth and what caused my emotion was that in a flash I understood: what causes my spots was in fact an invisible microbe, a filterable virus, but a virus parasitic on bacteria. Another thought came to me also, If this is true, the same thing will have probably occurred in the sick man. In his intestine, as in my test-tube, the dysentery bacilli will have dissolved away under the action of their parasite. He should now be cured.

squeeze into the bridal jumpsuit that the stylist begged me not to refer to as a onesie, and then my twin brother comes to retrieve me. “You look stunning,” Owen says flatly, distrustfully, squinting at me like I’m a fake ten-dollar bill. “It was a team effort.” He gestures for me to follow him. “I hope they vaccinated you for rabies while they were at it.

In 1931, at the age of four, my father was diagnosed with polio. He was immediately put into an isolation room at the local hospital in Brooklyn, New York. There was no cure and no vaccine for polio at that time, and city dwellers lived in fear of its spread. For several weeks my father had no human contact, save for an occasional visit by a masked nurse. His mother came to see him every day, but that’s all she could do—wave to him and try to talk to him through the glass pane on the door. My father remembers calling out to her, begging her to come in. It must have broken her heart, and one day she ignored the rules and went in. She was caught and sternly reprimanded. My father recovered with no paralysis, but this image has always stayed with me: a small boy alone in a room, gazing at his mother through a pane of glass.

All about them the golden girls, shopping for dainties in Lairville. Even in the midst of the wild-maned winter's chill, skipping about in sneakers and sweatsocks, cream-colored raincoats. A generation in the mold, the Great White Pattern Maker lying in his prosperous bed, grinning while the liquid cools. But he does not know my bellows. Someone there is who will huff and will puff. The sophmores in their new junior blazers, like Saturday's magazines out on Thursday. Freshly covered textbooks from the campus store, slide rules dangling in leather, sheathed broadswords, chinos scrubbed to the virgin fiber, starch pressed into straight-razor creases, Oxford shirts buttoned down under crewneck sweaters, blue eyes bobbing everywhere, stunned by the android synthesis of one-a-day vitamins, Tropicana orange juice, fresh country eggs, Kraft homogenized cheese, tetra-packs of fortified milk, Cheerios with sun-ripened bananas, corn-flake-breaded chicken, hot fudge sundaes, Dairy Queen root beer floats, cheeseburgers, hybrid creamed corn, riboflavin extract, brewer's yeast, crunchy peanut butter, tuna fish casseroles, pancakes and imitation maple syrup, chuck steaks, occasional Maine lobster, Social Tea biscuits, defatted wheat germ, Kellogg's Concentrate, chopped string beans, Wonderbread, Birds Eye frozen peas, shredded spinach, French-fried onion rings, escarole salads, lentil stews, sundry fowl innards, Pecan Sandies, Almond Joys, aureomycin, penicillin, antitetanus toxoid, smallpox vaccine, Alka-Seltzer, Empirin, Vicks VapoRub, Arrid with chlorophyll, Super Anahist nose spray, Dristan decongestant, billions of cubic feet of wholesome, reconditioned breathing air, and the more wholesome breeds of fraternal exercise available to Western man. Ah, the regimented good will and force-fed confidence of those who are not meek but will inherit the earth all the same.

I visited with American diplomats at the U.S. embassy just before they became entangled in the impeachment of President Donald Trump. On the day I visited, they were overwhelmed by Russia’s latest disinformation campaign: Russian trolls had been inundating Facebook pages frequented by young Ukrainian mothers with anti-vaccination propaganda. This, as the country reeled from the worst measles outbreak in modern history. Ukraine now had one of the lowest vaccination rates in the world and the Kremlin was capitalizing on the chaos. Ukraine’s outbreak was already spreading back to the States, where Russian trolls were now pushing anti-vaxxer memes on Americans. American officials seemed at a loss for how to contain it. (And they were no better prepared when, one year later, Russians seized on the pandemic to push conspiracy theories that Covid-19 was an American-made bioweapon, or a sinister plot by Bill Gates to profit off vaccines.) There seemed no bottom to the lengths Russia was willing to go to divide and conquer.

My early years, my weakling, teething, vaccination, memoirs of the various nursery maids, I dismiss unrecorded: if the Faculty desire a narrative of this period, I fear I cannot oblige them; it would interest no one else. One observation however suggests itself; if I was at that time what I am now, what transports of delight I must have received when gathered to the warm full breasts of the woman who bore me I drew from that holy source the rich and essentially feminine fluid which gushing down my throat animated my little frame.

SWEETEST IN THE GALE by Michelle Valois After Emily Dickinson You won’t lose your hair, I heard at the start of treatment, and though I didn’t, I lost a litany of other lesser and greater luxuries—saliva, stamina, taste buds, my voice—but my hair, during that chilly sojourn in the land of extremity to which I had sailed on a strange and stormy sea, my hair was not taken from me. Had it been, I would have perched one of those 18th century wigs on my head, such as those worn by the French aristocracy, measuring three, four, even five feet high and stuffed, as they were known to be, with all sorts of things: ribbons, pearls, jewels, flowers, tunes without words, reproductions of great sailing vessels, my soul inside a little bird cage—ornaments selected to satisfy a theme: the signs of the Zodiac (à la Zodiaque) or the discovery of a new vaccine (à l’inoculation) or, as was the case in June of 1782, the first successful hot air balloon flight by the brothers Michel and Etienne Montgolfier. Regarde, I exclaim to my ladies in waiting, pointing to the sky on that bright afternoon as the balloon, made of linen and paper, rises some 6,000 feet. Later, a duck, then a sheep, and finally a human is carried away. I watch, inspired, hopeful, whispering, lest my doctors overhear: when the storm turns sore, and that little bird escapes her little bird cage and is abashed without reckoning, I will sail away in my balloon, prepared, if it fails me, to pluck a few ostrich feathers from the high hair of the Queen of France herself; they and hope (which never asked for a crumb) will carry me beyond disease for as long as I have left to choose between futility and flight.

In the introduction, I wrote that COVID had started a war, and nobody won. Let me amend that. Technology won, specifically, the makers of disruptive new technologies and all those who benefit from them. Before the pandemic, American politicians were shaking their fists at the country’s leading tech companies. Republicans insisted that new media was as hopelessly biased against them as traditional media, and they demanded action. Democrats warned that tech giants like Amazon, Facebook, Apple, Alphabet, and Netflix had amassed too much market (and therefore political) power, that citizens had lost control of how these companies use the data they generate, and that the companies should therefore be broken into smaller, less dangerous pieces. European governments led a so-called techlash against the American tech powerhouses, which they accused of violating their customers’ privacy. COVID didn’t put an end to any of these criticisms, but it reminded policymakers and citizens alike just how indispensable digital technologies have become. Companies survived the pandemic only by allowing wired workers to log in from home. Consumers avoided possible infection by shopping online. Specially made drones helped deliver lifesaving medicine in rich and poor countries alike. Advances in telemedicine helped scientists and doctors understand and fight the virus. Artificial intelligence helped hospitals predict how many beds and ventilators they would need at any one time. A spike in Google searches using phrases that included specific symptoms helped health officials detect outbreaks in places where doctors and hospitals are few and far between. AI played a crucial role in vaccine development by absorbing all available medical literature to identify links between the genetic properties of the virus and the chemical composition and effects of existing drugs.

Zap. Sports channel. Normal is nine innings, four balls, three strikes, somebody wins, somebody loses, there’s no such thing as a tie. Zap. Normal is unreal people, mostly rich unreal people, having sex with rappers and basketball players and thinking of their unreal family as a real-world brand, like Pepsi or Drano or Ford. Zap. News channels. Normal is guns and the normal America that really wants to be great again. Then there’s another normal if your skin color is the wrong color and another if you’re educated and another if you think education is brainwashing and there’s an America that believes in vaccines for kids and another that says that’s a con trick and everything one normal believes is a lie to another normal and they’re all on TV depending where you look, so, yeah, it’s confusing. I’m really trying to understand which this is America now. Zap zap zap. A man with his head in a bag being shot by a man without a shirt on. A fat man in a red hat screaming at men and women also fat also in red hats about victory, We’re undereducated and overfed. We’re full of pride over who the f*ck knows. We drive to the emergency room and send Granny to get our guns and cigarettes. We don’t need no stinkin’ allies cause we’re stupid and you can suck our dicks. We are Beavis and Butt-Head on ’roids. We drink Roundup from the can. Our president looks like a Christmas ham and talks like Chucky. We’re America, bitch. Zap. Immigrants raping our women every day. We need Space Force because Space ISIS. Zap. Normal is Upside-Down Land. Our old friends are our enemies now and our old enemy is our pal. Zap, zap. Men and men, women and women in love. The purple mountains’ majesty. A man with an oil painting of himself with Jesus hanging in his living room. Dead schoolkids. Hurricanes. Beauty. Lies. Zap, zap, zap. “Normal doesn’t feel so normal to me,” I tell him. “It’s normal to feel that way,” he replies.

By collecting data from the vast network of doctors across the globe, they added dozens of new compounds to the arsenal—all proven effective against COVID-19. Dr. Kory told me that he was deeply troubled that the extremely successful efforts by scores of front-line doctors to develop repurposed medicines to treat COVID received no support from any government in the entire world—only hostility—much of it orchestrated by Dr. Fauci and the US health agencies. The large universities that rely on hundreds of millions in annual funding from NIH were also antagonistic. “We didn’t have a single academic institution come up with a single protocol,” said Dr. McCullough. “They didn’t even try. Harvard, Johns Hopkins, Duke, you name it. Not a single medical center set up even a tent to try to treat patients and prevent hospitalization and death. There wasn’t an ounce of original research coming out of America available to fight COVID—other than vaccines.” All of these universities are deeply dependent on billions of dollars that they receive from NIH. As we shall see, these institutions live in terror of offending Anthony Fauci, and that fear paralyzed them in the midst of the pandemic. “Dr. Fauci refused to promote any of these interventions,” says Kory. “It’s not just that he made no effort to find effective off-the-shelf cures—he aggressively suppressed them.” Instead of supporting McCullough’s work, NIH and the other federal regulators began actively censoring information on this range of effective remedies. Doctors who attempted merely to open discussion about the potential benefits of early treatments for COVID found themselves heavily and inexplicably censored. Dr. Fauci worked with Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg and other social media sites to muzzle discussion of any remedies. FDA sent a letter of warning that N-acetyle-L-cysteine (NAC) cannot be lawfully marketed as a dietary supplement, after decades of free access on health food shelves, and suppressed IV vitamin C, which the Chinese were using with extreme effectiveness.

The view that external things like rank, money, and honors bring happiness has frequently been criticized, but it is not necessarily incorrect. After all, these things belong, as Aquinas would have it, among the "accidents." Accidens is the unessential, which includes the body. If one manages to separate essence from flesh, if one manages, that is, to gain distance from oneself, then one climbs the first step toward spiritual power. Many exercises are geared to this--from the soldier's drill to the hermit's meditation. However, once the self has been successfully distanced, the essential can be brought back to the accidental. This process, resembling a vaccination with one's own blood, is initially manifested as a reanimation of the body. The physiognomy takes on the kind of features seen in paintings by old masters. They added something of their own. They blended it into the pigments. This also applies to objects; they were meaningful, now they gain a sense. A new light shines on things, they glow. Anyone can manage this; I heard the following from a disciple of Bruno's: "The world seemed hollow to me because my head was hollow." But the head, too, can be filled. First we must forget what we have learned.

But when relatively wealthy white women vaccinate our children, we may also be participating in the protection of some poor black children whose single mothers have recently moved and have not, as a product of circumstance rather than choice, fully vaccinated them. This is a radical inversion of the historical application of vaccination, which was once just another form of bodily servitude extracted from the poor for the benefit of the privileged. There is some truth, now, to the idea that public health is not strictly for people like me, but it is through us, literally through our bodies, that certain public health measures are enacted.

It reminds me about Jonas Salk, inventor of the polio vaccine, said when asked what the main aim of his life had been: ‘to be a good ancestor.’ A comment like that can only come from a man profoundly aware of his place in the universe.

POP STAR: Oh, that’s so great. I’m really looking for someone young and cool. My last guy had really antiquated ideas. ME: Asha is the best. And very young and cool. Unless of course you don’t want to get your kids vaccinated, hahaha. The pop star froze and everyone went silent. Greta looked at me, eyes widening in horror. I could not have offended a group of people more quickly than if I had announced to a room of male comedy writers that the movie Caddyshack sucks (which I have done, and which did not go over very well). The point is, people were incredibly offended.

EVISCERATED   From the time that it begin Full of love’s evil twin I am eviscerated Such finality   Desecration of the Adaptation from a Simulation of the Vaccination Of mankind   You tell me you don’t have a care Why won’t I die? Take yourself the fuck out of here Now go a cry   Heed yourself, you’re self destructive Crying to sleep Take handfuls of wicked pills It’ll be alright   Reputation shattered Profanation gathered Incantation slathered Impregnation Depression   You are feeling lost and so alone Losing your head Run the razor across the wrist You are cold and Dead - Dead - Dead - Dead   Find a place inside your heart Where you can find Solace from those past torments You don’t have to die   Exhumation of the Amputation from the Domination inside Fabrication building Transformation Of your mind   Until the time that it ends Full of love’s evil twin We’re eviscerated Such finality

James Young Simpson studied medicine in Edinburgh, Scotland, graduating in 1832. By the mid-1840s, Simpson had climbed the ranks to become a professor of midwifery in Edinburgh, relieving the pain of childbirth with ether, like his American colleagues. But Simpson wasn’t satisfied. He wanted a more potent agent, one that was pleasant to inhale, worked quicker, and didn’t cause vomiting upon awakening. He settled on chloroform, a combination of hydrogen, carbon, and chlorine. On November 4, 1847, Simpson invited two of his assistants, James Duncan and George Keith, and some of his friends, including a Ms. Petrie, to a dinner party. When the dinner was over, he asked his guests to sniff a variety of volatile gases, including chloroform. Duncan and Keith immediately lost consciousness, falling under the table. Ms. Petrie also lost consciousness, but not before declaring, “I’m an angel! I’m an angel! Oh, I’m an angel!” The next day, without animal studies, clinical trials, or federal approval, Simpson administered chloroform to a woman during a particularly painful delivery. “I placed her under the influence of chloroform,” recalled Simpson, “by moistening half a teaspoon of the liquid onto a pocket handkerchief [and placing it] over her mouth and nostrils. The child was expelled in about twenty minutes. When she awoke, [the mother] observed to me that she had enjoyed a very comfortable sleep.” The parents were so elated that they named their daughter Anesthesia. On November 10, 1847, Simpson told a group of colleagues what he had done. Ten days later, he described his experience in a medical journal, claiming that chloroform was more potent and easier to administer than nitrous oxide, and quicker to induce unconsciousness and less flammable than ether. Now the entire medical world knew about it.

Republican Arizona congressman Paul Gosar sent Meadows several texts between November and December 2020 warning about “dead voters” and Dominion, the voting machines destined to become a lightning rod in the months to come. (It was a line of inquiry that even Meadows repeatedly indicated he doubted in emails to other associates.) One of Gosar’s texts included a link to a movie about “cyber warfare” and voting machines from an anti-vaccine conspiracy blog called Some Bitch Told Me. Republicans in Washington mined briefings from very dubious sources.

Unfortunately, not every criticism of me is as thoughtful. Throughout COVID, I’ve marveled at how I became the target of wild conspiracy theories. It’s not an entirely new sensation—nutty ideas about Microsoft have been around for decades—but the attacks are more intense now. I have never known whether to engage with them or not. If I ignore them, they keep spreading. But does it actually persuade anyone who buys into these ideas if I go out and say, “I am not interested in tracking your movements, I honestly don’t care where you’re going, and there is no movement tracker in any vaccine”? I’ve decided that the best way forward is to just keep doing the work and believe that the truth will outlive the lies.

The fact that my 75 year-old Asian mom has two shots of the Moderna vaccine in her arm makes me want to cry. The fact that my 75 year-old Asian mom no longer feels safe walking down the street by herself also makes me want to cry. #America (3/31/2021 on Twitter)

Millennials saw an acceleration of excess mortality into the second half of 2021 to new all-time highs, a stunning 84% above baseline. The rate of change during the fall vaccine mandates was particularly striking. We called this the smoking gun chart. The virus wasn’t suddenly killing younger people in the fall of 2021. Suicides didn’t magically increase in that three-month period, nor did overdoses or missed cancer screenings. The only thing that changed was that genetic vaccine products were pushed upon the millennial generation via government and corporate mandates.

The likes of you and I cannot “give” to the federal government, as under the Federal Acquisition Regulations this is considered to be a risk for exerting undue influence. But the CDC has established a nonprofit “CDC Foundation.” According to the CDC’s own website [419]: Established by Congress as an independent, nonprofit organization, the CDC Foundation is the sole entity authorized by Congress to mobilize philanthropic partners and private-sector resources to support CDC’s critical health protection mission. Likewise, the NIH has established the “Foundation for the National Institutes of Health,” currently headed by CEO Dr. Julie Gerberding (formerly CDC director, then president of Merck Vaccines, then chief patient officer and executive vice president, Population Health & Sustainability at Merck and Company—where she had responsibility for Merck’s ESG score compliance). Dr. Gerberding’s career provides a case history illustrating the ties between the administrative state and corporate America.

The likes of you and I cannot “give” to the federal government, as under the Federal Acquisition Regulations this is considered to be a risk for exerting undue influence. But the CDC has established a nonprofit “CDC Foundation.” According to the CDC’s own website [419]: Established by Congress as an independent, nonprofit organization, the CDC Foundation is the sole entity authorized by Congress to mobilize philanthropic partners and private-sector resources to support CDC’s critical health protection mission. Likewise, the NIH has established the “Foundation for the National Institutes of Health,” currently headed by CEO Dr. Julie Gerberding (formerly CDC director, then president of Merck Vaccines, then chief patient officer and executive vice president, Population Health & Sustainability at Merck and Company—where she had responsibility for Merck’s ESG score compliance). Dr. Gerberding’s career provides a case history illustrating the ties between the administrative state and corporate America. These congressionally chartered nonprofit organizations provide a vehicle whereby the medical-pharmaceutical complex can funnel money into the NIH and CDC to influence both research agendas and policies.

the “nondelegation doctrine” is arguably the most significant Administrative State issue being actively considered within the current Supreme Court. The theory is predicated on the Constitution’s Article I, which provides that all legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in Congress. This grant of power, the argument goes, cannot be redelegated to the executive branch. If Congress grants an agency effectively unlimited discretion (as it has with PAHPRA), then it violates the constitutional “nondelegation” rule. If the PAHPRA is overturned, then the whole cascade of HHS Administrative State actions that have enabled bypassing of normal bioethical (see the “Common Rule” 48 CFR § 1352.235-70 - Protection of human subjects) and both normal drug and vaccine regulatory procedures would collapse.

Readers will be guided through the rabbit hole of falsehoods and misrepresentations that beguiled millions of Americans into accepting mandated vaccines and barely tested drugs, without even the pretense of informed consent. Parents agreed to give mystery injections to their children and babies, yet can’t explain the risks or supposed benefits

The biomedical world that I thought I was living in has been revealed to be a sham. The legitimacy of the industry and discipline that I have committed my entire professional life to is in shambles. I am now embarrassed to call myself a vaccines and biodefense expert, because the fundamental corruption inherent in those domains has been so clearly revealed. I cannot unsee what I have seen. I cannot recapture all of those years spent in a profoundly corrupt academic system, spent supporting a deeply compromised discipline that appears primarily driven by financial interests rather than by what I had naively believed was a commitment to saving lives. I chose to not pursue the careers of my father and father-in-law, which were spent building weapons of war. Only to find that I had inadvertently played a significant role in enabling one of the most tragic medical follies in the history of man.

life insurance companies have been reporting alarming increases in all-cause mortality and disability in working-age people. We may be experiencing both a huge human tragedy as well as a profound failure of the US government to serve and protect its citizens. We may be forced to conclude that the genetic vaccines that were so aggressively promoted have failed and the federal campaign to prevent early treatment with lifesaving drugs has contributed to a massive, avoidable loss of life.

After the Biden administration admonished Florida for stagnant vaccination rates in Florida, the Feds then decided to federalize the distribution of monoclonal antibodies so that those who don’t get the vaccine have no alternative treatment option [444]. This is a prime example of the retaliatory tools available to the federal government and illustrates that the federal government is able and willing to compromise the health of US citizens to punish a state that choses to be noncompliant. Remember, the states regulate medicine and public health policy within that state. Biden refusing to send lifesaving medicine is a clear abuse of federal power. The 10th Amendment of the United States Constitution

Khalsa isn't Khalistan (The Sonnet) Khalsa means freedom from hate, Khalistan means nationalizing hate. Christ stands for love and compassion, Chistian nationalism is Christ's death. Sanatana Dharma is advaita sanskriti, that is, a culture of nonsectarianism, Hindutva means mindless saffronization. Islam means working for peace and welfare, Islamism is the ruin of synchronization. Intolerance is a worldwide pandemic, only terminologies vary culture to culture. Vaccine for the mightiest swords of hate, is the gentle glint of one heart, hatebuster. Give me ten unarmed transformers of love and light, I shall wipe out hate from its roots of fright.

train me, nice as could be other than acting like she’s my mom, all honey-this and honey-that and “You think you can remember all that, sweetie?” Just three or four years out of high school herself. But she did have three kids, so probably she’d wiped so many asses she got stuck that way. I didn’t hold it against her. Coach Briggs’s brother stayed upstairs in the office. Heart attack guy was a mystery. First they said he might come back by the end of summer. Then they all stopped talking about him. As far as customers, every kind of person came in. Older guys would want to chew the fat outside in the dock after I loaded their grain bags or headgates or what have you. I handled all the larger items. They complained about the weather or tobacco prices, but oftentimes somebody would recognize me and want to talk football. What was my opinion on our being a passing versus running team, etc. So that was amazing. Being known. It was the voice that hit my ear like a bell, the day he came in. I knew it instantly. And that laugh. It always made you wish that whoever made him laugh like that, it had been you. I was stocking inventory in the home goods aisle, and moved around the end to where I could see across the store. Over by the medications and vaccines that were kept in a refrigerator case, he was standing with his back to me, but that wild head of hair was the giveaway. And the lit-up face of Donnamarie, flirting so hard her bangs were standing on end. She was opening a case for him. Some of the pricier items were kept under lock and key. I debated whether to go over, but heard him say he needed fifty pounds of Hi-Mag mineral and a hundred pounds of pelleted beef feed, so I knew I would see him outside. I signaled to Donnamarie that I’d heard, and threw it all on the dolly to wheel out to the loading dock. He pulled his truck around but didn’t really see me. Just leaned his elbow out the open window and handed me the register ticket. He’d kept the Lariat of course, because who wouldn’t. “You’ve still got the Fastmobile, I see,” I said. He froze in the middle of lighting a smoke, shifted his eyes at me, and shook his head fast, like a splash of cold water had hit him. “I’ll be goddamned. Diamond?” “The one,” I said. “How you been hanging, Fast Man?” “Cannot complain,” he said. But it seemed like he wasn’t a hundred percent on it really being me loading his pickup. He watched me in the side mirror. The truck bounced a little each time I hefted a mineral block or bag into the bed. Awesome leaf springs on that beauty. I came around to give him back his ticket, and he seemed more sure.

As Arnold Schwarzenegger succinctly put it, the message is “screw your freedom.”15 The message is “shut up and toe the fucking line.” The message is “show me your fucking papers.” “Use the fucking pronouns.” “Eat the fucking bugs.” “Get the fucking ‘vaccinations.’ Do not fucking ask us ‘how many.’ The answer is ‘as many as we fucking tell you.’” The message is, there will be no more unauthorized presidents, no more leaving the European Union, no more “populist” rebellions against the global hegemony of global-capitalism and its soul-crushing, valueless, “woke” ideology.

In short, I have spent much of my career working on vaccine development. I have also had extensive experience in drug repurposing for infectious disease outbreaks. My contributions to science and industry are outstanding. I am proud of my contributions. My friendships and connections with professional colleagues have persisted for years. So, when I am defamed by the New York Times, Washington Post, The Atlantic, or others, I know that there is more driving their character assassination attempts than efforts to report actual truth. These attacks are not about “me” personally, but rather about me speaking outside of the approved government and WHO/WEF narrative concerning COVID-19 policies.

Emotional Vaccination to Prepare for the End of Screen Time Parent: “Before we begin screen time, let’s think about how it’s going to feel when we end. It’s hard to stop things we love, right? For me too.” Child: “Can you just turn the show on now?” Parent: “We will, soon. I’m going to take a deep breath now and get my body ready for when we stop watching screens.” Model this pause. “Also . . . I’m wondering if we can get out some of those end-of-screen-time protests now, to get our bodies ready.” Find a lighthearted, but not mocking, tone as you protest: “Five more minutes! My friends get so much more! I was just about to . . . please please . . . you never let me do anything I want to do!” What are you doing here? You’re infusing connection and silliness into a difficult transition before it happens. This doesn’t mean that at the end of the show, your child will say, “Here’s the iPad, Mom, easy-breezy!”; it does mean that you’re building the skill of managing tough emotions, and there will be a moment soon that your child looks at you and says, “Aw, I wish I could watch another episode!” instead of screaming and throwing a remote control.

I am an internationally recognized scientist/physician, and the original inventor of mRNA and DNA vaccination (resulting in nine issued patents with a priority date of 1989) as well as mRNA- and DNA-based gene therapy [1–8]. I am also an inventor or early adopter of multiple nonviral DNA and RNA/mRNA platform delivery technologies. I hold numerous fundamental domestic and foreign patents in the fields of gene delivery, delivery formulations, and vaccines. I have been working in the fields of advanced clinical development and vaccinology for almost forty years. My Google Scholar ranking is 50, which is the ranking of an outstanding full professor.

The explanation didn’t seem quite so simple to Tom, but he let it suffice. “And what happened to ancient Earth?” he asked. “Oh dear, now you ask too much,” Michal said, turning. “That story is not so simple. We would have to start with the great virus at the beginning of the twenty-first century—” “The French,” Gabil cut in. “The Raison Strain.” “Not really the French,” Michal said. “A Frenchman, yes, but you can’t say it was . . . never mind. They thought it was a good thing, a vaccine, but it mutated under intense heat and became a virus. The whole business ravaged the entire population of Earth in a matter of three short weeks—” “Less than three,” Gabil inserted. “Less than three weeks.” “—and opened the door to the Deception.” “The Great Deception,” Gabil said. “Yes, the Great Deception.” Michal gave his friend a let-me-tell-the-story look. “From there we would have to move on to the time of the tribulations and wars. It would take a full day to tell you how other Earth—ancient Earth—saw the end. Clearly you don’t know all of the histories, do you?” “Obviously not.

Drugs! She accused me of having drugs! Me! You know I won’t even do vaccines! My bod is a temple and I’m super triggered!

Let me give you an example: Dr. Royal Lee, the founder of Standard Process, the whole food supplement company we use in our clinic, tried to sell the product Zypan™ in 1937 - as a digestive aid. The FDA forbade it, even though Zypan is composed of the best digestive enzymes available. Camel Cigarettes, in 1937 (the same year) was allowed to sell their cigarettes - as a digestive aid. Can you believe that? That is because our health care system is just a business. The pharmaceutical companies knew that if you started smoking cigarettes they would have a patient in 20 years or so - it was a long term investment. But if you healed your digestion, they knew they would have less patients for all the reasons we go to a doctor.

The President called it the “Epitome of the American dream.” Daddy called it the “unholy alliance of business and government.” But all it really was, was America giving up. Bailing out in order to join the Financial Resource Exchange. A multinational alliance focused on one thing: profit. Fund global medical care to monopolize vaccines. Back unified currency to collect planet-wide interest. And provide the resources needed for a select group of scientists and military personnel to embark on the first trip across the universe in a quest to find more natural resources—more profit. The answer to my parents’ dreams. And my worst nightmare. And I know something about nightmares, seeing as how I’ve been sleeping longer than I’ve been alive. I hope. What if this is just a part of a long dream dreamt in the short time between when Ed locked the cryo door and Hassan pushed the button to freeze me? What if? It’s a strange sort of sleep, this. Never really waking up, but becoming aware of consciousness inside a too-still body. The dreams weave in and out of memories. The only thing keeping the nightmares from engulfing me is the hope that there couldn’t possibly be a hundred more years before I wake up. Not a hundred years. Not three hundred. Not three hundred and one. Please, God, no. Sometimes it feels like a thousand years have passed; sometimes it feels as if I’ve only been sleeping a few moments. I feel most like I’m in that weird state of half-asleep, half-awake I get when I’ve tried to sleep past noon, when I know I should get up, but my mind starts wandering and I’m sure I can never get back to sleep. Even if I do slip back into a dream for a few moments, I’m mostly just awake with my eyes shut. Yeah. Cryo sleep is like that. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong. I shouldn’t be so aware. But then I realize I’m only aware for a moment, and then, as I’m realizing it, I slip into another dream. Mostly, I dream of Earth. I think that’s because I didn’t want to leave it. A field of flowers; smells of dirt and rain. A breeze ... But not really a breeze, a memory of a breeze, a memory made into a dream that tries to drown out my frozen mind. Earth. I hold on to my thoughts of Earth. I don’t like the dreamtime. The dreamtime is too much like dying. They are dreams, but I’m too out of control, I lose myself in them, and I’ve already lost too much to let them take over. I push the dream-memory down. That happened centuries ago, and it’s too late for regrets now. Because all my parents ever wanted was to be a part of the first manned interstellar exploratory mission, and all I ever wanted was to be with them. And I guess it doesn’t matter that I had a life on Earth, and that I loved Earth, and that by now, my friends have all lived and gotten old and died, and I’ve just been lying here in frozen sleep.

Some children (three solemn-faced kids who, with their mother, were staying with us until their mother’s ex-husband quit threatening them) had made too much noise in Kyle’s pool after seven P.M., which was when Mr. Francis went to bed. We should make sure that all children were in their beds and silent so as not to disturb Mr. Francis if we didn’t want the police called. We’d thought it was a joke, had laughed at the way he’d referred to himself as “Mr. Francis” in his own notes. The grapes along the solid eight-foot-tall stone fence between the backyards were growing down over Mr. Francis’s side. We should trim them so he didn’t have to look at them. He saw a dog in the yard (me) and hoped that it was licensed, fixed, and vaccinated. A photo of the dog had been sent to the city to ensure that this was so. And so on. When the police and the city had afforded him no satisfaction, he’d taken action on his own. I’d found poisoned meat thrown inconspicuously into the bushes in Kyle’s backyard. Someone dumped a batch of red dye into the swimming pool that had stained the concrete. Fixing that had cost a mint, and we now had security cameras in the backyard. But we didn’t get them in fast enough to save the grapes. He’d been some kind of high-level CEO forcibly retired when the stress gave him ulcers and other medical problems.

One of the tenants here has a tumor on his face. It covers most of his right eye. Where I come from, it would have been treated and removed. So I find myself thinking, what if I get sick? Something as simple as appendicitis could kill me. I've had all the shots, but what happens when the vaccines wear off? As for the charm and innocence I hoped to find -- it exists, it really does, but consider what it's buried in. Racism. Misogyny and homophobia so absolute as to be nearly universal.

Grahhhhh.” I looked up at LaForce. Did he just, Grahhhhh, at me?

It still seemed a bit funny to me that we stayed armed with garden tools. One would have thought we’d of come across weapons. Guns? Machetes? Harpoons? Anything. Guns had to be out there. It’s all that was in the news as of late. Civilians and their personal armory stashes. I loved my shovel, felt good in my hands, and now I had one of Josh’s hand shovels in my back pocket, too. Dave’s pitchfork was tough. He had Josh’s other hand shovel. And Allison seemed to have mastered the multitude of hedge clipper uses. We must have resembled crazed farmers scampering between trees and out into the back parking lot of the Distillery.

I wanted to be a spy,” Olga said, shrugging. “I applied to the CIA. I was turned down. I did not meet the psychological profile. Oppositional Defiance Disorder. Basically, I have a hard time taking orders from idiots.” “Don’t think of me as an idiot and I won’t give you an idiotic order,” Sophia said. “But if I give you one, you’d better do it. Because it’s probably going to mean surviving or dying.” “You I don’t mind,” Olga said. “Or I wouldn’t have joined your crew. Don’t ask me about Nazar. So I was in Spain with the troupe. When the Plague hit, they shut down travel. And all my guns were in America. In a zombie apocalypse. I was quite upset.” “You should have seen Faith when they told her she had to be disarmed in New York,” Sophia said. “Then they gave her a taser and that was mistake. What kind of guns?” “I like that your family prefers the AK series,” Olga said. “I really do think it’s superior to the M16 series in many ways. Much more reliable. They say it is less accurate but that is at longer ranges. The round is not designed for long range.” “I can hit at a thousand meters with my accurized AK,” Sophia said. “It’s a matter of knowing the ballistics. It’s not real powerful at that range, but try doing the same thing with an M4. I’ll wait.” “Oh, jeeze, you two,” Paula said. “Get a room.” “So continue with how you got on the yacht,” Sophia said. “We don’t want our cook getting all woozy with gun geeking.” “We were called by the agency and asked if anyone wanted to ‘catch a ride’ on a yacht,” Olga said. “When they said who owned the boat… I nearly said no. We all knew Nazar. Or at least of him. Not a nice man, as you might have noticed. We knew what we were getting into. But then we were told he had vaccine… ” she shrugged again. “Accepting Nazar’s offer was perhaps not the worst decision I have made in my life. I survived. Not how I would have preferred to survive, but I was vaccinated and I survived. But I did not even hint that I knew more about his men’s weapons than they did. They were pigs. Tough guys. But none of them were military and none of them really knew what they were doing with them. When they brought out the RPG, I nearly peed myself. Irinei had no idea what he was doing with it. I don’t think he even knew the safety was off.” “You know how to use an RPG?” Sophia said. “My family liked the United States very much,” Olga said, sadly. “We all like guns and anything that goes boom. And in the US, you could find people who had licenses for anything. I’ve fired an RPG, yes.” “Well, if we find an RPG you can have it,” Sophia said. “Oh, thank you, captain!” Olga said, clapping her hands girlishly. “But we’ll be keeping the rounds and the launcher separate,” Sophia said. “Oh, my, yes,” Olga said. “And both will have to be in a well sealed container. This salt air would cause corrosion quickly.” “I guess you miss your guns?” Paula said. “That’s not a request for an inventory and loving description of each, by the way. Got that enough from Faith.” “I do,” Olga said. “But I miss my books more.” “Books,” Paula said. “Now you’re talking my language.” “I have more books than shelves,” Olga said. “And I had many shelves. I collect old manuscripts when I can afford them.” “If we do any land clearance, look in the libraries and big houses,” Sophia said. “I bet around here you can probably pick up some great stuff.” “This is okay?” Olga said. “We can, salvage?” “If there’s time and if we clear the town,” Sophia said. “Sure.” “Oh, thank you, captain!” Olga said, kissing her on the cheek. “Okay, now you definitely need to get a room.

And when you were more junior than you are today and men spoke shit to you, what did you do?” “It bothered me less than it bothers most women. My skin is thicker.” “Why is your skin thicker?” I think about that. “I had an awesome dad, which I think is a nice vaccination for life. It also didn’t hurt to not be rich. When you’re scrabbling upward, the big picture is clearer. I didn’t get sidetracked by bullshit.

The pediatrician Paul Offit mentioned to me, during an interview about his work, that he had recently seen two children hospitalized with influenza. Both had been immunized against everything on the childhood schedule except the flu, and both ended up on heart and lung machines. One lived, and the other died. “And then the next day, when someone comes into your office and says, ‘I don’t want to get that vaccine,’ you’re supposed to respect that decision?” Offit asked me. “You can respect the fear. The fear of vaccines is understandable. But you can’t respect the decision—it’s an unnecessary risk.

Why he was going to check on some child who more than likely was a zombie playing ball in an empty grocery store, was beyond me. It

Our collective nausea can only amplify when we ask, “Why are we vaccinating children?” Kirsch’s model estimates that 600 children have already died from COVID vaccines as of September 2021. A recent Lancet study shows that a healthy child has zero risk for COVID, suggesting that most of these kids are dying unnecessarily.99 Some 86 percent of children suffered an adverse reaction to the Pfizer COVID vaccine in clinical trial. And one in nine children suffered a serious reaction grave enough to leave them unable to perform daily activities. How can we then justify forcing a healthy child to take a vaccine that is dead certain to injure many and kill some while bestowing no benefits? “How can anyone consider it ethical,” asks Kirsch, “to put a child at risk, for the pretext that it might shield an adult? Show me any adult who thinks this is okay, and I’ll show you a monster!

What a journey it’s been. It’s one narc after the next. These narcs keep approaching me and asking if I needed an archetypal old man in my life. What happened, by the way? Why did we stop using the word narc? Do we think narcs don’t exist? And that there’s no such thing as psy-ops? And that people from the bad side are unable to pose as a member of your good side? Why are all of us so nervous about admitting that psy-ops are real? Do all of us believe that psy-ops conspiracy fuckery is equal to lizard people and nanobot vaccines? The GSN blasted its classic rotten archetype, fnordz, holomultigraphic interfacing proscenium arch eristic analytical overlays.

There is also the matter of my own increasingly unreliable body. From age fourteen to forty it operated with military punctuality; you could have set a watch by the time my uterus kept. No longer. My body has detached itself from its own timeline. On more than a few occasions in the last year I’ve been compelled to ask the question: Virus or perimenopause? (In the winter months this shifts to: Virus, perimenopause, or my century-old radiator?) My doctor, while wonderful, has no answers. “You’re getting to that age” has become the most frequently repeated sentence in my appointments with her. When I press and ask, “Is this normal?” she says, “No one is sure,” because “no one” has ever done the research into the universal experience of half the population. But this might soon change, she assures me after she asks if I’ve scheduled my appointment for the newly released vaccine, which took only a year to create. “Your generation is accustomed to having information,” she tells me. “You’re all furious there is none.” When she says this, I am furious, but it doesn’t last. I can be angry about only so many things at the same time. And even then, I’m not very good at it.

This was true, but the New York Times nevertheless vilified me for spreading “misinformation” and claimed that the Fulton County Coroner had determined that Aaron’s death was “unrelated to vaccines.” USA Today, Newsweek, TIME, Daily Beast, ABC, CNN, and CBS reported the Times claim.23 But when I called to verify their claim, the Fulton County Coroner told me that the office has never seen Aaron’s body and that no autopsy was ever performed.

According to Amy Goodman, Gates owns investments in sixty-nine of the world’s worst-polluting companies.203 His single-minded obsession with vaccines seems to serve his impulse to monetize his charity and to achieve monopoly control over global public health policy. His strategies and corporate alliances in the food, public health, and education sectors may also reflect messianic conviction that he is ordained to save the world with technology, top-down centralized cookie-cutter solutions to complex human problems, and a godlike willingness to experiment with the lives of lesser humans. And Gates’s vaccine cartel has amassed Midas-like riches. Early in 2021, a TV interviewer, Becky Quick, observed that Gates had spent $10 billion on vaccines over the past two decades and asked Gates, “You’ve figured out the return on investment for that and it kind of stunned me. Can you walk us through the math?” Gates responded: “We see a phenomenal track record . . . there’s been over a 20-to-1 return. So if you just looked at the economic benefits, that’s a pretty strong number.” The interviewer pressed him: “If you had put that money into an S&P 500 and reinvested the dividends, you’d come up with something like $17 billion dollars, but you think it’s $200 billion dollars.” Gates continued: “Here, yeah,” hastening to add that “helping young children live, get the right nutrition, contribute to their countries, that has a payback that goes beyond any typical financial return.”204 The key to it all, he added, is “Having that big portfolio.” And the key to much of that portfolio is having Anthony Fauci.

Right before Thanksgiving, I had flown home from a medical meeting in Amsterdam, sitting for almost nine hours next to a woman with a wet, violent cough. Even standing in the back of the plane whenever the seat belt sign was off could not save me from coming down with the worst case of influenza I had ever had. And I had had my vaccination!

COVID-19 was my most feared enemy that could potentially kill me. I was vaccinated, developed a supplementing protocol for it and survived a COVID-19 infection. I now view it as a mild case of the flu.

Harley Filben: "People know the government has a vaccine. Riots everywhere. " JC Denton: "The same corporation that makes Ambrosi also manufactures the virus. Quite convenient. The virus came over a superfreighter previously owner by Dowd." Harley Filben: Yeah, most of Majestic 12 is just hand-me-downs from the Illuminati. Huh. We knew about Ambrosia, but the virus... that's news. They're infecting people on purpose, huh?

Mr McGraw glared at him. "You don't tell me anything." "In fact, I do," Dr Marino said. "I'm here because Principal McGinty is trying to keep your son safe from diseases that could kill him. That's how much she cares about your little boy." He turned to look at the other parents. "That's how much she cares about all of your children.

... so, for those keeping score at home, he wants a guerrilla war where Americans shoot and hang other Americans. It will be very easy to tell who they need to kill because they will be the ones telling you to wear a medical mask and get a vaccine. Even after I gave him the first food he had eaten in two days, he still was not willing to listen to me for just a few seconds and explain that “socialism” actually means using taxes to pay for hospital visits, instead of running up huge medical debts. Rather than letting me talk, he threatened to hang me, all while still eating my food. On most days, I might dismiss a conversation like this as nothing but the rantings of a homeless guy whose mind has been pushed too far. But today he’s just come from the Sea of People who stormed the Capitol and forced Congress to flee for their lives. On a day like today, I think this interview merits more consideration, especially when so many others I interviewed concurred with parts of what he said. I believe

... so, for those keeping score at home, he wants a guerrilla war where Americans shoot and hang other Americans. It will be very easy to tell who they need to kill because they will be the ones telling you to wear a medical mask and get a vaccine. Even after I gave him the first food he had eaten in two days, he still was not willing to listen to me for just a few seconds and explain that “socialism” actually means using taxes to pay for hospital visits, instead of running up huge medical debts. Rather than letting me talk, he threatened to hang me, all while still eating my food. On most days, I might dismiss a conversation like this as nothing but the rantings of a homeless guy whose mind has been pushed too far. But today he’s just come from the Sea of People who stormed the Capitol and forced Congress to flee for their lives. On a day like today, I think this interview merits more consideration, especially when so many others I interviewed concurred with parts of what he said. I believe men like him represent a much larger segment of the population than those mesmerized by The Media want to accept. Based on the miles I’ve driven and the conversations I’ve had while Chasing History, I’d say men (and women!) like him are a large minority of the population and they ain’t going away. And unless some modern-day messiah manages to re-open political dialogue in this country, I see more trouble in the years ahead.

I sent the letter to my loved ones and friends. Beginning to be completely devoted to a gathering narrative in which mRNA vaccination was “our way out of this” and the unvaccinated were stubborn disease factories to be ostracized, many friends and loved ones asked me not to send them anything of that nature again. These were judges, journalists, editors — critically thinking people.

Pierre cubique Pour un pavage de l'âme Pour déchirer le ridicule apparent de l'enveloppe, il convient que les pointes intellectuelles ne soient pas émoussées par des calculs mercantiles. Un aigle peut toujours être abattu d'une balle et dépecé. Mais il ne sera jamais capturé dans une souricière. Une fois lancé, il faut du tact pour ne pas verser dans le burlesque. Mais trop de tact censurera tout éclat, vous exposant à la constipation de l'âme. Chez certains, les sourires ironiques entrent en scène au mauvais moment. Si la crispation de la réalité ne les interrompt pas brusquement, ils se brisent en même temps que le personnage, dans le tintamarre des pots d'argile. Si l'on ne se détourne pas faussement du marécage, mais qu'on le traverse héroïquement en s'y enfonçant à fond, on peut trouver par-delà une couche d'eau pure. Tous les blasons existants ont été profanés. Pour atteindre une noblesse nouvelle, non susceptible de l'être, il convient préalablement de se faire vacciner l'âme à la boue. Si j'arbore quelquefois un cœur dans ma poitrine, j'ai néanmoins toujours dans ma poche une boîte de préservatifs. Je ne publierai un livre que lorsque je serai sûr de pouvoir me détacher entièrement de ses pages, pour bondir sur le lecteur et l'étrangler. Ma phrase doit être un organe viril impétueux, pour dépuceler les âmes encrassées et y déposer la semence des cieux nouveaux. L'art est souvent le droit suprême de l'artiste de tout bafouer. (poème de Geo Bogza, publié en 1928, traduit du roumain par Șerban Cristovici)

To my horror, after extensive research, I discovered everything she told me to be true. I realized then that the evil in this world was bigger than the so-called vaccine being shoved down everyone's throat…global elitists and bankers had secretly been controlling governments for decades, and were now using this man-made virus -- a bioweapon by definition -- as a means to gain totalitarian control over all mankind.

In the 1980s, Australia had a few home-grown immunisation sceptics, although the great majority of parents immunised their children. In 1996, a film-maker made a supposedly scientific documentary for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC). She interviewed people who were both pro- and anti-immunisation in equal numbers, ‘for balance’. She was pregnant with her first child, and concluded the documentary by saying that she had not yet decided whether or not to get her baby immunised. I was one of the doctors interviewed. When the documentary was shown in Australia it generated considerable debate and controversy. Two weeks later I was in Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea, and gave a presentation to the hospital about immunisation. A number of the audience told me they recognised me from the documentary, which had been shown that week on PNG television. They were puzzled as to why anyone would make such a film. Their wards were filled with children with severe tuberculosis, newborns dying from tetanus, and babies with severe rotavirus gastroenteritis, all preventable by immunisation. On their streets were people crippled forever by poliomyelitis. But Papua New Guinea did not have the money or the public health infrastructure to deliver vaccines effectively to its population. Papua New Guineans knew vaccines could prevent the devastating diseases they saw every day, and could not understand why anyone in Australia would dream of not immunising their child. Immunisation scepticism is very much a first-world problem.

The Love of Money It is not money in itself but the “love of money” that is the root of all evil. When the threat of Climate Change became a national crisis, the families of noted politicians began investing their money in “new green technology,” including solar panels, wind turbines, and electric cars, as informed investors invest where future money is to be made. When COVID hit, there were already certain pharmaceuticals that were used to treat the virus, including one I took that helped me within 48 hours. However, these pills have been available for many years to help prevent malaria but were ignored or not permitted to be sold, as the companies creating the vaccines and various doctors put the word out that these pills were not effective, and only the vaccine would work. According to whistleblower-doctors, the underlying reason for rejecting a cheaper pill is because vaccines would create more money.

Before Marie-Hélène left the hospital, she had Tobie vaccinated. A key turning point, she recalls, was when Arnaud “told me that whether I chose to vaccinate or not, he respected my decision as someone who wanted the best for my kids. Just that sentence—to me, it was worth all the gold in the world.

This should be a medical and not be a military operation,” Holocaust survivor and medical ethics advocate Vera Sharav told me. “It’s a public health problem. Why are the military and the CIA so heavily involved? Why is everything a secret? Why can’t we know the ingredients of these products, which the taxpayers financed? Why are all their emails redacted? Why can’t we see the contracts with vaccine manufacturers? Why are we mandating a treatment with an experimental technology with minimal testing? Since COVID-19 harms fewer than 1 percent, what is the justification for putting 100 percent of the population at risk? We need to recognize that this is a vast human experiment on all of mankind, with an unproven technology, conducted by spies and generals primarily trained to kill and not to save lives.” What could possibly go wrong?

don’t know what my kids’ lives will look like, but I think that at least I’ve offered them glimpses at new ways of seeing themselves. I threw a party in the spring of 2022. It had been a long, cold pandemic. But my children were finally vaccinated and I wanted to have people over. I made a vat of spiked cider and filled mugs for my friends. The very same mugs my ex had hidden away in the basement of our home so many years ago. Now they were filled with booze and joy. I tried to match mugs with personalities. The house was full, and people were shouting. Cheese and crackers were stacked in platters on top of the long table that I had paid for with a story I’d written about my divorce. I thought about how hard I’d worked to get here. To a house filled with friends and wine and happiness. The song “Crowded Table” by the Highwomen is one that always makes me cry; it speaks of community and love and filling our homes. “If it’s love that we give,” they sing, “it’s love that we reap.” “This is going in the book,” I told my friends, shouting over the din of conversations. “It’s going in the end. Because this is my happily ever after.” And maybe it was too earnest, but I thought of all the different kinds of love there are in the world. And I knew that when the party was over someone would help me with the dishes and wiping the counters, and I wouldn’t have to ask.

face of infectious disease research and my professional life as profoundly as had the advent of AIDS at the very beginning of my career. Shortly after the terror attacks, the Norwegian investors in the genetic vaccine company we had helped launch

I do have an interest in dissidents. My mother believes 5G may harm us, and I think she’s silly. But what of the nonconformist who warned back in 1940 that cigarettes kill? What of the contrarian who said the CIA was spying on Martin Luther King, Jr.? I mean, I’ve seen no evidence that 5G or the Covid vaccines are harmful. But have I done that research myself? No. I just trust the media would tell me if they were. My media. Whatever media my mom is consuming, they’re quoting “research, studies.” They’re slinging medical articles and YouTube videos of doctors saying that mRNA vaccines kill. A month before our road trip, she sent me one of these videos. It’s a clip of a longer talk, but even the clip is twelve minutes long. “Something to consider,” she wrote in the subject line. “Doctor calls out deadly vaccine!” Twelve minutes is annoyingly long for something I instinctively discredit, but short enough to give it a go. So I do. It’s a doctor on a stage with a PowerPoint. He has studies and graphs and lists of ingredients in tiny fonts and words like “embryonic stem cells.” I write my mom a long response. “OK I’m six minutes in and here are my thoughts: he’s using a lot of technical science speak that is above my pay grade. And so, what I’m doing is I’m trusting the lingo of an expert.

As recently reported by NBC News, “Two doses of the Pfizer-BioNTech COVID-19 vaccine offer almost no protection against coronavirus infection in kids ages 5 to 11, according to new data posted online—a finding that may have consequences for parents and their vaccinated children.” Also,

Vaccinating Children is Unethical Our collective nausea can only amplify when we ask, “Why are we vaccinating children?” Kirsch’s model estimates that 600 children have already died from COVID vaccines as of September 2021. A recent Lancet study shows that a healthy child has zero risk for COVID, suggesting that most of these kids are dying unnecessarily.99 Some 86 percent of children suffered an adverse reaction to the Pfizer COVID vaccine in clinical trial. And one in nine children suffered a serious reaction grave enough to leave them unable to perform daily activities. How can we then justify forcing a healthy child to take a vaccine that is dead certain to injure many and kill some while bestowing no benefits? “How can anyone consider it ethical,” asks Kirsch, “to put a child at risk, for the pretext that it might shield an adult? Show me any adult who thinks this is okay, and I’ll show you a monster!

In the photo, I’m living in the moment. My smile is a thousand-watt beauty, all that orthodontia finally paying off, all those chewy vitamins and two vegetables at dinner and access to vaccinations and fluoride in the water radiating from me. I looked like a corn-fed State Fair dairy princess reigning over my subjects.

When the arrival of COVID-19 vaccines lessened the immediate threat of the pandemic, bosses saw no reason to keep pretending they valued their employees’ role in keeping the country running (if they’d ever bothered to do so in the first place) or to raise their stagnating wages. As this all played out, the government continued to bolster the fortunes of the rich and fail everyone else. The American working class was being brought to its breaking point, and something had to give. “People are angry and fed up,” Dubal told me. “I don’t think that we can discount the role that those emotions play in the uprisings that we’ve seen among workers in this country [in 2021].

So, I think COVID was a convenient excuse. As we roll through time, I’m starting to think this was a plan. I don’t have evidence, but the fact that we’re not stopping what’s going on suggests to me that it’s a conspiracy of interests, and they don’t want to stop the rollout of these vaccines. And the longer this goes on, the more convinced I become that COVID may have been a plan. I used to say it was a convenient excuse, but the longer this goes on, the more ridiculous this becomes. This has the appearance of ill intent.

All that the WHO and national public health bureaucracies (including the US HHS) had to do was to recommend and support people taking sufficient Vitamin D3. This failure to act traces back to the unscientific bias and provaccine obsession of Dr. Anthony Fauci. And once again the legacy corporate media, while being paid by the US government and the pharmaceutical industry to promote vaccination, acted by censoring, defaming, and suppressing the ability of physicians to inform people of scientific truth. The disease you suffered, the loss of life among your family and friends, could have been greatly reduced by simply getting enough Vitamin D3.

I WAS THE CATCHER for the Lake Luzerne Dodgers, a catcher with meager talent, a catcher in awe of Danny and Teddy. Danny was the first baseman and Teddy, the coach's son, was the left fielder. They were natural athletes: they could hit fastballs (a small miracle of hand-eye coordination that I never mastered), and they glided around the base paths with the grace of gazelles. They were, to a ten-year-old who was batting .111, the embodiment of beauty and summer and health. As I drifted to sleep at night, it was often with the image of Danny, horizontal and three feet off the ground, spearing a line drive, or of Teddy stretching a single into a double by slipping under the tag. In the early hours of a chilly, August, upstate New York morning, my father woke me. "Danny's got polio," he said. A week later Teddy got it too. My parents kept me indoors, away from other kids. Little League was suspended, the season unfinished. The next time I saw Danny, his throwing arm was withered and he couldn't move his right leg. I never saw Teddy again. He died in the early fall. But the next summer, the summer of 1954, there was the Salk vaccine. All the kids got shots. Little League resumed. The Lake Luzerne Dodgers lost the opening game to the Hadley Giants. The fear that kept us housebound melted away and the community resumed its social life. The epidemic was over. No one else I knew ever got polio.

On April 30 Lucy cheerfully reported that, after three days' illness, she was on the mend. Although she had no mirror, she could feel twenty pockmarks on her face. 'I am almost glad you do not see it.," she wrote, "I don't believe I should get one kiss and yet the doctor tells me it is very becoming.

Let me get it,” he says, standing much too close for my comfort. It’s downright suffocating. “Not a chance, darlin’,” I drawl, giving him a dose of his own medicine. I hand the youngish sales lady my tags and bury my gaze inside my purse in search of my wallet. When I look up, I find a loopy smile on her face and it’s directed at him. The happy bastard smiles right back. “Are you two done? Can I pay for these, or would you like to go on a date before you ring me up?” They both turn to stare. She’s cherry red and pushing all the wrong buttons on the register while Dane’s busy scowling at me. I hand her my credit card without taking my eyes off of him. “Did I do something to you, Stella?” The thing is, I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at myself. I cannot believe that I allowed myself to fall under his spell. I don’t blame the sales girl either. She never stood a chance under the magnetic force that is Dane Wylder. I fell for it and I’ve been vaccinated against this particular virulent disease. I have Paul Donovan to thank for that. Turning back to the sales person, I take the receipt she hands me. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “Hormones––they’re wreaking havoc.” “Oh, I get the same way when I get my period,” she replies in the sweetest drawl. “Thanks for your help,” I tell her in an apologetic tone. With that I walk away from the counter, and the two of them. A second later a big hand grabs a hold of my upper arm. I stop and turn, my expression not a happy one. “You didn’t answer me?” “No, Dane. You did nothing. Like I said, it’s the hormones.” He looks pensive, his sexy lips pursed as he’s mulling this over. “We should get you some ice cream.” I don’t know whether to laugh, or cry. He genuinely thinks ice cream is the solution to our problem? Then again he doesn’t have a problem. I’m the one with the urge. I’m the one with the craving. Unless ice cream comes in a flavor called Sweaty Sex With Dane, I don’t want it…and about as smart as jumping out of a plane with no parachute. The ride will be fast and thrilling and most certainly prove painful when I hit bottom. “What does ice cream have to do with it?” “Maybe it’ll make you nicer. You know, take the edge off.” My eyes automatically narrow. “Maybe we need to give each other space.” “No,” he huffs, arms crossed in front of his broad chest, his shirt straining against the swell of his pecs, expression locked in the determined position. “No?” “No. No space. I see what you’re doing here. This is some kinda female mental jujitsu. You say you want space, but you don’t really want it.” I’m seconds from punching him in the nut sac, which is almost directly in my line of sight. There is something to be said about being short. Or for him being grotesquely tall. “I…I’m going to…I can’t.” I flee to the cosmetics department in search of the Holy Grail, a flat iron, before I do or say something I’ll regret. And find one. Thank the Lord. This goes a small way to propping up my mood. I’m almost tempted to purchase two.

I stayed home, trying my best to figure out how in the world to be a good mother. It's not like I had anything decent to go on. It's not like I was going to ask my own mother for advice on mothering. I ended up buying a library of parenting books and reading every fucking one of them. For anyone who is thinking of doing the same, allow me to summarize: Sleeping with your baby is good. Sleeping with your baby is bad. Schedules, yes. Schedules, no. Lay them on their stomachs. Lay them on their backs. Bottle. Breast. Wean. Don't wean. Toilet train. Dont toilet train. Pick them up when they cry. Never pick up a crying baby. Public school. Home school. Montessori. Competitive sports are good. Competitive sports are bad. Fluoride. No fluoride. Vaccines. No vaccines. You're welcome.

I had run up against that other America before. Many times, in fact. I knew it was here beside me right now, but that it was like a disease I’d been vaccinated against: by my skin color, by my upbringing, by the fact I’d been given the benefit of the doubt my entire life. It was possible for me to travel safely through the other America as a spectator, or worse, completely oblivious.

And yet the world’s greenhouse gas emissions probably dropped just 5 percent, and possibly less than that. What’s remarkable to me is not how much emissions went down because of the pandemic, but how little. This small decline in emissions is proof that we cannot get to zero emissions simply—or even mostly—by flying and driving less. Just as we needed new tests, treatments, and vaccines for the novel coronavirus, we need new tools for fighting climate change: zero-carbon ways to produce electricity, make things, grow food, keep our buildings cool and warm, and move people and goods around the world. And we need new seeds and other innovations to help the world’s poorest people—many of whom are smallholder farmers—adapt to a warmer climate.