In the New Abominable, Expert Lives Matter
Welcome to Joker Johnson's New Abominable: a life without privacy, travel restricted to "freedom passholders", electronic tags for all, police without scruples, muzzles without mercy, and cocktails of compulsory drugs fired into your blood. Imagine there's no freedom - it's easy if you try. Masked children queuing in innocence to be injected with experimental DNA-wrecking chemical juju, to train them for their future on the Prison Planet. Rolling spontaneous Lockdowns with zero notice as and when Big Pharma says so. To protect you from the killer virus. And this, says the Fuhrer of Whitehall, will be Britain getting "back to normal". Normal where, exactly? The Punishment Room at Eton? The maximum security unit at Broadmoor Prison for the dangerously insane? Remember that very soon our "normality" will be "unfortunately" interrupted when 'Covid 20' is
[ DOGS * SALMON * KANGAROOS * BACON *NEIL FERGUSON *] (tick where applicable)
What's your problem? All they want to do is stuff a few large Q-tips up your nose every day and shoot just half a pint of assorted vaccine products into your arms each month. Strap on your bio-tracking device and you're good to go (home). And just a few lockdown days later you'll get a super-special freedom pass, you lucky, lucky girls and boys! Could there be a better way to prove how much the Health Service loves you? Just think - your very own personal get out of jail free card?(terms and conditions apply). I know, you can't wait. But the great news is, as of today you can love the New Abominable right back! Just log in to your Universal Debt account at YouMug.org and buy a 24-pack of triple-ply, steel-mesh Misscorona Masks. Only £19.99 and every penny goes to save the NHS (from doing any work).
That old, drab governmental system where decision-makers were elected to serve the people will no longer be available, not here or anywhere else. You are, however, free to vote yourself into the grave - but sorry, you've already done that, haven't you? In the UK, the chosen One, Prime Minister Johnson, has gathered a select handful of his college chums (none of whom were ever elected by anybody anywhere) and invited them to run this country however they wish. As a bonus, they get total ownership of your flesh and blood -yes, yours- and will be allowed to fill or empty your bodies on demand, like so many disposable test-tubes. You belong to them now. It's a future without choice for Britain's 70 million laboratory rats.
Voteless or not, these po-faced Pharmacidal bootlickers have been awarded the powers of Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pinochet, Mussolini - take your pick. The 2020 eat-my-health-product-or-die dictator-gators have topped the authoritarian shit-parade with their very first free-to-air virus. Free to issue commands that must be obeyed under penalty of imprisonment. Free to persist with the HOAX OF THE CENTURY: chanting doom, doom, doom...because an elusive bug that won't harm 99% of us is now the only important living thing in the known world. Cancer patient? Piss off. Suicidal? Yawn. Heart surgery ? Kidney failure? Some other time. Have you got the message, thicko? The lives and loves and deaths of all those other Brits (the inferior class of non-experts) are much less important than Whitty & co holding an endless unwinnable scrap with a microbe the experts cannot identify, let alone defeat.
But victory will be declared, experts say, as soon as they have wrecked everyone else's jobs, homes, families, friendships and careers. Expert victory over this invisible, mysteriously absent disease means, for example, that our most elderly relatives must spend their last days living like caged animals - because that's how experts always treat their doomed subjects. After decades of tedious experimentation on caged beasts, they are squirming in delight to have real humans to practise upon. Expert lives matter. Only their victory matters, not ours. Forget the millions of simple, daily victories we humans win, by earning our living in the real world instead of the lab, by delivering real services instead of scrawling science-fiction threats on a MacBook, by sharing the love of our family and friends, instead of revenging ourselves on people we'd love to be but never will. Sweet Jesus, for most of us nowadays, just breathing fresh air without the goon squad bursting in feels like victory.
And like the Covidiocracy they have created, the experts' ultimate victory will exist entirely on a computer model and be declared "reality" on a handsome graph (can be framed and mounted for home display-only £32.99 extra). Stood among the ruins of the society they have disembowelled, Emperor Ferguson and Supreme Lord Whitty will -in a secure location, surrounded by the palace guard- proudly hoist another jagged line to nowhere and say "look, look, our diagram was the best,WE WON!"
These are infants posing as men, unlovable classroom swots whose only achievements are made of paper. They never left school and in school they belong -upended in the genderless loo, heads jammed deep into the U-bend. Experts in what, exactly? Kissing billionaire ass. Experts in trousering grant-cheques - which flavour of science would you like, Mr Gates? Experts at winning hollow 'academic' awards for "re-imagining" and "modelling theory" and "data-collection"- a task as easy as (but much less useful than) collecting garbage.
People so hollow, so lacking in the basic human decencies they are happy to persist in colluding with the Farce of the Century in return for a two minute spot on prime-time tv which they can Tweet to their estranged wives #seewhatyoumissed. And, from here to their Knighthood, they will pretend it was all just "essential precautions to stop the Second,Third, Fourth Wave". Although they know, as you know, and every last idiotic mask-wearing chump who ever believed this fairy tale should know by now there will be no end to the waves. Accept it, grasshopper, when the vaccine is ready the virus will appear. The ignorant, gullible and guileless have been joined by the nervous, fearful and stupid and what an astonishing amount of them there are.
In the early days of this fiasco, a joke was going round: Two travellers meet at at Heathrow airport during the first Lockdown. One asks the other:
" Do you think there's anywhere on earth the Coronavirus hasn't got to?"
"Sure," comes the reply, "everywhere they've got no tv, radio or internet".
For this whole wretched, filthy deception has been a media construct from Day One. Anybody (like me) who consumes liuttle or no TV radio or newspapers remains utterly exempt from the hysteria, wondering why on earth the rest of the population have gone stark, raving mad and swallowed this juvenile fabrication. Polticians doing amateur medicine, and medics doing amateur politics - a script custom-written for the miserable disaster zone we now inhabit. MPs who don't know what a virus is and scientists for whom society is a faraway island. Takling turns to hail the power of a "killer" plague, which leaves 99 percent of us unkilled and seemingly unkillable. But far, far too many have been trained and tutored to swallow the hourly diet of lies and propaganda they call "news". Ye gods, the damage done to civilisation by TV is beyond measure.
Oh news, it's a spigot, a flood, a tidal wave, a barrage, a bombardment. Has anybody noticed how Lockdown drags the whole damn country into an all-day indoor information loop? From dawn till dusk we're being waterboarded with dirt from the doomsters. Everyone under 25 is staring glassy-eyed at the beeping, glowing slab in their hand, where Google,Twitter, Facebook, AOL, Yahoo - all the brain-rotters of Silicon Valley- are stuffing Covidicrap down their feeds around the clock. The under-fifties crowd channel-hop between laptops and giant flat screens to get their hipster Coronafix. And the poor old grey-hairs are just utterly Radio Foured, slumped in front of afternoon telly, bingeing on cakes during Orders Of The Day from the Fuhrer of Whitehall.
So perhaps this rape-of-all-dignity is how the human story ends - that glorious multi-millennial epic tale of evolution, survival and brillant innovation, rolled like a stone into the Covid memory-hole. File under extinct, died out from lack of functioning spine. Unless we rise up and refuse, in 2021 the sum total of human achievement will be erased in a hi-tech blizzard as 99 percent of the earth's population are masked, trapped, drugged, tracked, traced and tethered in a web of unbreakable digital chains.
A species that descended from the trees to raise pyramids in the desert, pen symphonies to Joy and soar across the heavens in winged machines, will have been transformed -by just a few short months of brainwashing- into a herd of household pets, tamed by the experts who really matter.
Dear Sir/Madam, please find enclosed your 30-day Freedom Pass for June 2021.
Walkies? Time for walkies!
Further reading : The Hot New Covid Tech is wearable - and constantly tracks you
The present generation of under-40's, accustomed to the enthusiastic pursuit of recreational self-medication, are unlikely to regard Big Pharma in any less favourable light than their neighbourhood dealers. They have no qualms about subsidising the lifestyles of violent third-world gangstas with their brand new German cars, Ho's, and stabbing/shooting hobbies, by cheerfully purchasing totally untested medication originating from unknown sources. So why would they mind subsidising the purveyors of something that has, allegedly, successfully gone through a government test programme? People I know who regularly self-administer respond to the question 'Will you take the vaccine?' with 'I'm not a conspiracy theorist.' So I see little prospect of seeing any major public push-back.
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