The Unvaccinated will be Vindicated

As the official Covid narrative nears collapse, adherents must soon reevaluate not only their concept of government, but also some of the most fundamental beliefs they have about themselves.

When I first started sketching out ideas for this article several months ago, I did so under the working title of Drag Them into the Streets and Sodomize them to Death with Rusty Bayonets. The reference, as anyone familiar with recent Libyan history (and by extension, the crimes of Hillary Clinton) will know, is to Muammar Gaddafi, former president of the oil-rich nation whose four-decade rule was brought to a grisly end when he was captured by a NATO-assisted mob, tickled mercilessly, and then given a purple-nurple that left a bruise for weeks.

Only joking, he was lynched.

Now, in the unlikely event I have within my readership, any Libyans still loyal to the deposed colonel, please understand – this is not a comment upon his leadership, much less a celebration of his brutal demise. Insofar as I know the affairs of that country, I know only enough not to trust the Western version of them, the ire of my title instead directed at a rather more contemporary class of tyrant.

This was early October, after all, and once more the Covid rhetoric was being amped up. Try as they may, the mainstream media had not been able to replicate the levels of hysteria they had achieved with their first onslaught of propaganda, and so now they sought to knead this hysteria into an even more politically exploitable emotion – anger. I’m sure more than a few readers remember that sinking sensation the first time they heard some talking head link the unvaccinated with murder. It was almost as chilling as hearing their lemming-like listeners mindlessly regurgitate it. After being subject to the ignominy of masks, the cruelty of lockdowns, and the inarticulable torture of watching the perpetrators grow rich, this vilification seemed like an almost supreme form of injustice – your humble narrator left so embittered, there were days I struggled to meet the gaze of mask-wearing passersby, let alone to write anything cogent.

But of course, the world is an altogether different place than it was back in October. Since I first started (and ultimately abandoned) this article, we have witnessed, with quite remarkable rapidity, the collapse of every pillar holding up the crumbling Covid doctrine. No one believes the doomsday numbers anymore. How anyone ever fell for the wet market bullshit was always beyond me. Regular people are beginning to ask questions about Ivermectin and Hydroxychloroquine, while even Brian Stelter – Brian fucking Stelter, ladies and gentlemen – has sprouted enough of a testicle to make a joke about the CDC’s credibility. Project Veritas has been central to forcing these issues into the public consciousness. So too have folks like Dr. Robert Malone, Dr. Peter McCullough, and Dr. Zelenko. With time and against the full force of government-corporate hegemon, their voices have been joined by others in ever-increasing volume and ferocity, and I think that most everyone now recognizes, even if just on some gut level, that something major is about to give.

I’m sure there are plenty of readers who have fantasized about this moment. No doubt, you believe you’re owed an apology or two. You probably feel like you deserve, if not a medal, then at least some kind of pastry, first for seeing through, and then possessing the grit to resist, two years of ceaseless propaganda, demoralization, and psy-ops. There were times when I think most of us feared they would wash our civilization away. They still very well might, yet however tentative the optimism of the past few weeks, it has nonetheless been enough to convince me that, providing we welcome our loved ones onto the right side of history, without caveats or self-satisfied I told you sos, then there exists the opportunity to at last turn this shitshow around.

Yes, the vaccinated were duped.

Yes, they bowed to the power of a technocratic super-evil.

Many were so lobotomized by endless convenience and formulaic Hollywood plot lines that they had already became the unthinking zombies they accused us of being, and however you try to dress it up, that is a terribly painful realization for any person to come to.

I mean, just imagine it. One day you’re in the middle of a pandemic, doing all the things you’ve been told a rational, compassionate person does, when suddenly, in the most abrupt and public of manners, you discover that you are the antithesis of everything you thought you were. Of course, some pain is necessary for personal growth. The truth stings for a reason. But what we are talking about here, is an unmitigated, hands-in-the-pockets faceplant into reality, and given the scorn many of these people have doled out over the last twenty-something months, it is hardly surprising that the targets of this scorn might derive some pleasure in prolonging their torment. This is an urge we must resist. What hangs in the balance, without hint of hyperbole, is the soul of humanity and the freedom of future generations, and I for one do not intend to jeopardize either by making the truth more unpalatable than it absolutely needs to be.

Cause let me tell you, it’s pretty goddamned unpalatable as it is.

Regrettably, not everyone will be deserving, nor even desiring, of such reconciliation. For many who have obediently jumped through CDC hoops and diligently followed WHO directives, the disgust they will feel when confronted with their own cowardly, servile reflection will force them to turn away, possibly even lash out. They are a lost cause. There are just some people, tragically, for whom a lifetime of denial is preferable to the responsibility of living in Truth, and frankly, we need to allow them that make that decision. It is not one based in rationality, anyhow. Nothing you can say about Peter Daszak or the psychological impact of masks will ever give them the strength to face their own shortcomings. Theirs is a personal battle – a battle they will very likely lose – and while it might bring some spiteful pleasure to watch your quadruple-jabbed sister squirm beneath reminders of her deluded zealotry, I can see no reason outside of selfish ones, why anyone should drag this suffering into public.

Even if there were a reason, society could simply not take any more of it. Covid, both the virus and the delirium, has ruined far more Christmases, birthdays, and friendships; far more chance encounters, wedding celebrations, and last goodbyes than we should ever have allowed it, and now, after blindly submitting to two years of this degrading theatre, many are coming to appreciate that their sacrifices have amounted to significantly less than nothing. Don’t fall into the inverse of this trap. Don’t wake up a decade from now, still roiling about the time your buddy called you an anti-vaxxer or when your mother barred you from Thanksgiving - realizing, much too late, that even if you got the sorries you yearn for, they could not compensate for memories never made in between.

That said, even the readily offered apologies will often prove inadequate. Over the coming months, we are going to hear a lot of them, some emanating from politicians, others from scientific institutions, each as bereft of genuine remorse as they are of an actionable plan for change.

First, however, will come the media. Over in Europe, those assholes are already giving it the quivering lip and moist, doleful eyes, while here in the States, you are beginning to see the groundwork being laid for a full-blown jettisoning of the narrative. This month alone we have seen The Washington Post’s Jennifer Rubin backpedaling on Covid’s severity as well as Time publishing this less-than-rosy appraisal of Biden’s first year in office. Hell, even CNN managed to squeeze out this nugget of integrity, and yet, for anyone who has really been paying attention, this pantomime introspection amounts to nothing more than a transparent attempt to soften the inevitable backlash. We must not indulge the media’s apologies any more than we do those of Big Tech, Big Pharma, or Hollywood. Each and every one are co-conspirators in this unravelling crime against humanity, and although Don Lemon, Rachel Maddow, Keith Olbermann, and Joy Behar are all braced for something cataclysmic, it is up to us – independent content creators and their audiences – to turn this tidal wave of distrust into a fucking bona fide extinction event.

It was this hope, ultimately, which motivated me to return to this article. When I first started writing back in October, it would have been impossible for me to imagine - partially through considered observation and partially through the distorting lens of despair - that just a short time later, we could be seeing such significant triumphs. It was hope too, which compelled me to rename it.

The war we are fighting, after all, is not taking place on the sand dunes of Libya. Neither is it occurring, contrary to popular opinion, in our classrooms or on social media. This is a battle waged down the center of every human heart, and although we might criticize our fellow citizens for succumbing to fear, anxiety, stupidity, indifference, or isolation, we must not, in our pompous complacency, allow the slow poison of resentment to render our victory colorless. The desire for bloody revenge against the culprits is understandable. So too are the cheap shots aimed at their foot soldiers. But if we are to put either before the onward march of Truth, then it is we and not our enemies, who are preventing the world from seeing crimes which dwarf even the worst of Gaddafi’s.

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