The Pyrrhic Vindication

Holding the line on the right side of history

When the quackccines first rolled out, they made us wait our turn, like another pointless smartphone release, warning of shortages and creating a temporary class of selfish “line-jumpers”, so eager for their jab that they would bend the rules. The social stigma against this behavior was fairly mild, and as it was clear that there was more than enough, the jab-mongers began with the bribery.

They baited us with donuts and french fries. Having exhausted the gluttonous simpletons who needed just a nudge and a bit of grease to roll up their sleeves, the inducements grew more extravagant: there were documented incidents of free joints, lap dances…anything to get the vials off the shelf. As initial interest waned, the stakes were raised: cash rewards, college scholarships, and lottery tickets. Eventually, that, too, was not enough to move those Frankenjections off the shelves.

As bribes gave way quickly to intimidation, the rhetoric reached a fever pitch. It was clear that those who were left, “waiting and seeing” now had seen enough, and had no intention whatsoever of submitting to these dodgy jabs. That was when the snake oil sales force bared their fangs, and we entered into a state of medical apartheid.

How quickly it swoops in! Inside of six months, we went from “don’t cut in line” to “take it or you’re fired”. A frenzied public adapted rapidly to a segregation regime. It was like the civil rights movements had never happened.

Of course, they never called it any of these things. This was different. Because virus. All those dead people. You must give up your rights for them.

The frightening part was not knowing how far it would go. Would it get to the point where they were literally rounding us up? The parallels with WWII were potent; not just the Third Reich and the deeply medical genocide there, but also Japanese internment camps in the USA.

With the masks off of the tyrants, and on to the population, the dystopia had arrived, fully formed, demanding our papers. There was no use explaining to the masses of vex zombies that their shots didn’t work to prevent any of things they thought it did. They didn’t care. At a very deep level, it became about something else entirely.

We’ve spent a great deal of time trying to understand what that was, exactly. The theme that continually returns is power. The whole “vaccine” enterprise is a hubristic attempt to wield power over a dynamic as natural as the wind, as essential as soil microbes, and as inevitable as the passage of time.

The human immune system is the product of millions of generations of challenge and response, interacting with untold billions of pathogenic influences. Along the way, many have died from this natural culling, and it’s always very sad for their families. There’s nothing wrong with using the best medicine we have to treat the sick and save their lives; that’s what modern medicine is for.

But these injections are not truly medicine, for they are distributed en masse, in diners and ice cream shops, in giant tent revivals. They are not evaluated for the needs of any specific patient; it’s a treatment for something that you don’t have. Medical ethics has become a convoluted contortionist, to not only find justification for this abrogation of Hippocratic Oath, but to rush headlong into an Inquisition and conversion of the heretics.

Discussions around “reducing vaccine hesitancy” are inherently coercive. Why should any government, or, indeed, any private organization, presume to override individual autonomy in this fashion? Where do these people find the nerve?

As we return to the anniversary of Resident Brandon running out of patients, um, patience, it’s important to understand what broke the stride of medical apartheid. First of all, a great big thank you to Big Pharma and their dangerous, ineffective quackccines. Those jabs were really the star of the show. Who knows where we’d be if the damn things worked?

There were several lynchpins which turned the winter of “sickness and death” into the spring of resistance. All the protesters everywhere, and especially the great Canadian truck convoy. The dissident doctors and scientists who spoke out and the independent media who got the word around, even to just a handful of people at a time. The world owes everyone involved a thank you and an apology.

The apologies, of course, will not be as forthcoming as the wholesale condemnation. But we’ve got our shingle out. We have plenty of vacant slots on the public apology circuit. Just step right up!

Any takers? Hello?