I was born in 1969. The only war I ever knew or thought I’d experience personally (other than the war on drugs, the war on terror, and the war of the sexes, which I assumed we won thanks to that sexy Enjoli lady bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan) was the Cold War.
The Cold War didn’t concern me much. Maybe because, to me, it sounded like the U.S. and Russia were a pair of tweens in a silly little tiff, ignoring each other’s texts and inviting their mutual enemies over for sleepovers. Or maybe it was because Russia was exotic and remote and even if the Cold War turned into a war-war (which in my mind, unequivocally meant bombs being dropped), it would obviously be us dropping bombs on them, which was plainly tragic but no cause for personal concern.
Sorry, I was a narcissistic 10-year-old.
I carried these beliefs into midlife; that war meant bombs, that any war-war the U.S. engaged in would always be fought on foreign soil, and that I was safe.
I was wrong.
We are at war.
I’m hardly the first to invoke the battle analogy in the context of COVID. In fact, I’ve recently had the great honor of co-writing The War on Ivermectin with Dr. Pierre Kory. When we began, I was nearly three years into my so-called awakening and well aware that COVID was not the enemy. It’s also not us (the rebellious freedom fighters) versus them (the obedient civil class), as much as we’ve been pitted against each other in the media and by masks and mandates and the rest of the lunacy. It’s not even a ruling class bent on totalitarian control against the minions —that would be us — they are trying to force into bug-eating submission. Okay, it is that; but it’s so much more. At the end of the day, and not to be melodramatic, it’s a war between good and evil.
The good is represented by Dr. Kory and his many colleagues inside (and outside) of the FLCCC; it’s the scientists, medical professionals, and occasional rogue musician, writer, or journalist who have literally risked everything to expose the wicked agenda; the everyday heroes handing out adverse reaction pamphlets outside of COVID vaccine clinics and retweeting the posts of yet another jab-injured soul. The evil, of course, are the individuals who populate the pharmaceutical companies, government agencies, and invisible oligarchy running the show; the ones who ruthlessly, relentlessly put profit over people and don’t just allow widespread suffering, but knowingly facilitate it.
This battle of good vs evil is not new, but COVID shone a blinding light on it. In The War on Ivermectin, Dr. Kory and I detail how the greedy powers-that-be worked overtime to block access to and distort and suppress the efficacy of one remarkably cheap, incredibly powerful medication in particular that could — and should — have ended the pandemic. The data is as unequivocal as it is damning. And even if you haven’t made studying it your life’s work, riddle me this: If ivermectin wasn’t effective, why would it pose such a threat? Why would the CDC and FDA have to launch massive PR campaigns against it (“You’re Not a Horse,” I’m looking at you), or bribe global populations to subject themselves to the single experimental alternative? Why would doctors risk their medical licenses and livelihoods to prescribe it to their patients? Why would a single tablet that typically costs pennies be commanding upwards of 50 euros on the black market? Why were mentions of ivermectin flagged for immediate removal from social media across all platforms? Remember when then-President Trump wondered aloud if disinfectants could have antiviral potential? You didn’t see Target refusing to sell hand sanitizer or YouTube banning Clorox videos. It was, let them drink bleach!
The global war on ivermectin boiled down to two simple facts: one, they knew it worked, and two, they understood that if the rest of the world found out, their profit-and-power plans would go straight down the proverbial shitter.
People died because of what they knew — lots of them — and more importantly, because of what they didn’t do about it. I beg you to never, ever forget that.
I wouldn’t wish any sort of war on my worst enemy. (That’s actually a blatant lie. Klaus Schwab, Bill Gates, Anthony Fauci, and a few others, I pray your remaining days are an endless, bloody parade of conflict and strife.) And I used to think this was a war that we had no hope of winning. But I don’t believe that anymore. For one thing, good’s got evil wildly outnumbered.
Do you know many people who have switched to the other team midstream? Folks who’ve said, “You know what? I was wrong. I should have taken that poison shot. Freedom is overrated. My government has my back.” I certainly don’t.
We can win this war, and not simply because “good always triumphs over evil” (which eventually, it does). We can win by refusing to give in, by building new communities and creating new systems, and by using our collective voices to amass the most powerful army this world has ever seen. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m also positive it’ll be worth it.
As a parent, and even simply a steward of the earth, it’s my job to leave this planet a better place than I found it. I may be but one tiny, powerless speck in a sea of humanity, but I will die trying.