Do you know how many people I
had over to my house for Christmas? As many as I wanted.
I hope you did the same, whether that number was zero or had a comma in it, because this needs to end, and right now.
As an early advocate of safety measures to guard against this Coronavirus (I even wrote and recorded a song in support of the effort), I no longer believe a single word of the official narrative on this disease, prepositions included.
Even taken at face value, the logic of what we are instructed to accept does not hold together. A disease with a recovery rate well above 99 percent, which poses real danger only to the elderly and those with underlying conditions, necessitates that you may or may not be permitted to purchase grape soda, depending on the whims of your local authorities.
Deaths from all sorts of causes are attributed to the illness, and it is undisputed that the Centers for Disease Control admitted that 94 percent of its reported Covid mortalities died with or from other symptoms. And yet petty government tyrants and their neighborhood-level acolytes continue to trample freedom and fun in the name of “safety.”
Out of necessity, “cases” have replaced deaths and hospitalizations as the metric of doom. Hospitals have never been overrun – which was, the older among you may recall, the original justification for “15 days to slow the spread” at the start of this madness.
People (or a certain sort of person, anyway) can be seen pridefully sporting masks everywhere they go, including alone outdoors or in the car. In severe cases, the masks are personalized and pompously conspicuous, as though they are wearing a piece of the One True Cross.
Masks are worse than useless and, if your fingers are faster than Google’s censors, you can find sources ranging from the US Surgeon-General at the beginning of the year to the recent Danish study explaining why. If and when this insanity ends, we may find mask-wearing caused countless deaths from bacterial pneumonia, as was the case after the Spanish Flu of 1918.
And yet, they persist, despite (and perhaps because of) the demonstrable incompatibility of undisputed facts. Corona-worship has become a cult and I am an apostate from the Branch Covidian.
A cult in service of whom? You need not believe all of the Great Reset theory to appreciate that, at every level, this delirium serves someone’s interests.
That fusspot at the store who yells at someone or rams their shopping cart for not observing the grotesque secular sacrament of “social distance” was looking for someone to afflict. Government-types, elected and unelected, who, despite all the bilge about “public service,” campaigned or signed up to wield some measure of power, are stunned and delighted at just how much power they now hold. And yes, at the very top, there may well be billionaire lizard-people who planned it all (Bill Gates, call your office).
Whatever their station, people are finding excuses to behave how they always wanted.
Again, this is so transparent that if you are still mouthing the official line without irony, I must conclude that you are mentally defective, or in on the scam, or both.
Speaking of Doug Ford, the premier of Ontario has locked down Canada’s largest province yet again, concurrent with the now-familiar dazed and concerned argle-bargle about cases and that new strain in England and how the real heroes are the ones who eat alone over the sink. This, as Ford has admitted that his government is including suicides among the number of Covid deaths.
There is no evidence that lockdowns have saved a single life, anywhere in the world. And yet that suicide number is interesting, for reasons beyond the obvious derangement of including them in the quantifiable rationale for isolating people even more.
In an honest-to-goodness death-trap of a pandemic, as we were told to expect, you would likely have a large and growing count of those known to you who had passed away from the disease. Perhaps you do know someone who died of Covid, in which case you have my condolences. The one person I knew who succumbed was, indeed, elderly and, things being how they are, I have a dark opinion of the veracity of the death certificate.
What is more likely, however, is that you have a list of people who have lost their livelihoods, who have not seen their parents or their grandchildren all year, and who have contemplated, or committed, suicide as a result of this humanity-throttling mass hysteria.
A word on that “new strain” in the UK (incidentally, if I were a lizard-person scripting this whole thing, that’s just the sort of plot twist I’d toss in right about now): As I watched Britons cramming into airports and train terminals, a chilling thought occurred to me. They were not running from the disease, they were running from their government.
Britain’s Prime Minister, the previously palatable Boris Johnson, has become more unrecognizable and plunged deeper into Covid madness than any other world leader. What new level of insanity would his lockdown fever reach? His once-free people did not care to find out.
Decades of war did not displace the Vietnamese people, but when the tender mercies of communism were upon them, they fled. Heathrow was the embassy roof in Saigon, writ large.
And so it goes, all over the planet, until there is nowhere left to run.
I can barely control my own home, let alone the whole planet, but, to the extent I can, this madness ends now. I will welcome whomever I choose, and send away whomever displeases me. Government agents will require not only written authority but, most likely, the use of force to gain entry.
Being Canadian, this is not how I prefer to behave. Even so, it must be done.
Convenient as it may be to say I dissent from Covid orthodoxy because I don’t care about other people, or I want to kill grandma, that is not the case. I just don’t believe the story anymore.
Theo Caldwell wanted to be left alone. Contact him at theo@theocaldwell.com
