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Salvo 01.19.2022 10 minutes

Your Pandemic is Over

Girl Imitating Doctor While Injecting Doll At Home

Their panic continues.

I bought my first box of N95 masks on January 20, 2020. They have been sitting in my closet for two years unworn—until this week, when they suddenly became required at my husband’s office. 

The Bums Lost

Back in early 2020, I was ready for the apocalypse. I had two of those gas masks with the pink filters. I sprayed Amazon boxes down. I shopped in gloves. I pulled my children out of school 10 days before school shut down in March 2020.

Just six months before, we had survived a mini-pandemic in my household. In the summer of 2019, my teenage son came back from sleepaway camp with a bad cough. It worsened until one night I found him gasping for breath and throwing up on the floor of his room. The tests came back positive for pertussis, and soon all the kids were aggressively coughing and vomiting. I was baffled. Everyone had been fully vaccinated with the DTAP shot, with no complications. What happened?

The crack team at the county health department called me to do some contact tracing. I asked her how in the world we could have gotten whooping cough if they were all vaccinated. She told me that because of some serious side effects, the dose had been lowered a few years ago, “and honestly it doesn’t really work anymore.” 

I could not believe my ears. Why was this not known? I had no idea the pertussis vaccine was ineffective. I’m pro-childhood vaccines, okay? I would have preferred an effective whooping cough shot, since my children became so ill. My poor toddler threw up every time she coughed, multiple times a night. 

When I finally caved and got a Covid vaccine, I decided to go with the tried-and-true Johnson & Johnson one. Sure, their baby powder caused uterine cancer, but I was wary of the other ones. Stick to the good old inactivated adenoviruses and you’ll be fine, I thought.

Cut to me in bed, so sick I thought I’d die, for two days post-vaccine. One week later the same vaccine I’d received was pulled after multiple women dropped dead from stroke and blood clots. 

My hard-won efforts paid off as I successfully avoided Alpha and Delta strains. But, my one puny shot and I finally surrendered to viral load at a Thanksgiving dinner superspreader event. 

Everyone who got sick from the dinner had been vaccinated. The unvaccinated were totally unaffected, including my five-year old. Not even a sniffle, and no, I didn’t lock her in her bedroom or wear a mask around her. I’m not a monster.

I had aches, sore throat, malaise. Here are the diseases I’ve had that were much, much worse: every flu, chicken pox, Norovirus, seasickness, hangovers, morning sickness, food poisoning, mastitis, a broken pinkie toe. 

My dear husband recently recovered from his own first experience with the gain-of-function enhanced, lab-made Fauci flu, and enjoyed what I’d describe as a mild ache for three or four days. 

Nice try, Tony. You’re gonna need a better variant.

My five-year old remained unfazed, no symptoms. 

Her kindergarten, however, acted like we were vectors for aerosolized Ebola. Since there was a “case” in the house, she was barred from school. “Please isolate her from your husband or wear a mask around her,” said the principal, who wears her N95 mask outside at all times. Today, the principal announced she’s tested positive.

At their Christmas concert, the five year-olds were forced to sing while wearing masks. She will be attending a school run by saner people next year. 

To quote Captain Quint, I’ll never put on a life jacket again. 

Friends who fled blue states for red states report that their pandemic ended the day they arrived in their new town. But even in those places, mask and vax mandates in schools and camps and restaurants and hospitals persist. 

Worse, the never-ending mental burden of thinking about Covid weighs on us all. 

This is the last stage of the pandemic: our inability to cut this useless ballast from our hearts and float free.

It is still the main message in the media, the big stick the Regime is using to beat us on the daily.

When I learned, like you did, months ago, that the new variant would be mild and likely end the pandemic by giving everyone natural immunity, I assumed that idiotic restrictions would finally ease. Instead, they got harsher. Every billboard begs you to get “boosted.” Imagine getting “boosted” now, in the face of everything we know. 

Even Pfizer CEO Albert Bourla, who is a veterinarian by trade, admitted in a since-censored interview that two shots of his bat juice only gives you “limited, if any” protection from the Omicron variant.

Everyone with boosters will get the ‘Cron anyway, so they are losing this argument as they double and triple and quadruple and quintuple down on it. It’s weird! Why can’t they let go? 

Since they won’t say the obvious, allow me to do so. Attention, people of Earth: Your pandemic is over, and so is mine. 

The bums who dropped it on us have lost—credibility, public trust, reputation, career. CDC, FDA, NIH, the entire collection of hoodlums who are in charge of “health” exposed themselves as thoughtless, greedy, lying, petty tyrants who get their jollies by depriving you of yours. 

Ever thus to deadbeats!

Pandemic of the Unhinged

You and I will be fine. We can now abide, even thrive, in the post-pandemic universe, rip off our masks and burn our (fake) vax cards. But what do we do about the mind-flayed women, usually the mothers of young healthy kids, who literally think their children will die without multiple vaccines? Even the WHO admitted that healthy children don’t need boosters. But it’s too late for facts. Hordes of terror-stricken fanatics are already posting photos of their five-year-olds getting their first Pfizer shots on their birthdays, the way you’d post about your 16-year-old getting their driver’s license.

The New York Times provides a window into this bizarro universe of terror-stricken liberal mothers in an article called “I See Signs of Despair From Parents of Kids Under 5.”

“‘This is the scariest time of the pandemic for sending my kids to daycare,’ said Margot Zarin-Pass, a pediatrician and internist in Minneapolis. Her two children are 3½ years old and 10 months old.”

More proof that American pediatricians can no longer be trusted. Imagine studying early childhood development and learning how newborn brain development is closely tied to physical proximity to the mother—and still dumping your infant in daycare. Hey, Dr. Zarin-Pass, is that The Science?

In what seems clear proof that a psychological warfare campaign is being waged on parents with young children, this story came out in Slate the very same day: “The Agony of Parents With Kids Under 5.” 

It’s like reading a dispatch from Mars:  

I want to scream. The pandemic is not fucking over, because children under 5 cannot get fucking vaccinated. Do not tell me it’s usually really mild for kids. I won’t mention that if I get it, too, I’ll be able to take off the mask I will have been wearing around the clock inside my own home. He’ll get his second and third shots or however many he needs, and eventually he’ll be just like you, as protected as possible, safe enough to go about his toddlery business with COVID being just another risk like accidents or the flu. But we aren’t there yet. And what’s worse than not being there yet is how the world seems to have utterly forgotten we exist.

Trust me, lady, I can’t wait to forget that people like you exist. 

Meanwhile, a “research scientist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) said Thursday that parents should do everything they can to avoid giving their children the coronavirus vaccine, insisting that the potential harm far outweighs the benefits.”

What will the crazy moms do when more and more “experts” prove them wrong? 

Despite all this hopeful news about children and the pandemic, these lunatics are not ever going to let go of their masks and vaxxes. They will cling to them bitterly, eternally.

It’s time to crack open the blinds and peek out at the world, ladies. Like Dorothy post-tornado. Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Er, on second thought, maybe we don’t want these women recirculating in society. Maybe it’s best if we let them continue hiding in their apartments, windows and doors sealed shut. Perhaps these Fauci fanatics are the contagious variant we should fear most. We can’t have their dangerous ideas catching hold.

And now a short aside. In 1942, thousands of French mothers and their children were herded into the Velodrome d’Hiver, a bicycle stadium in central Paris, to await shipment to Auschwitz. After a week with no food or water, some women tried to kill their own children before they were separated and sent to an even worse death. Of the 4,000 children imprisoned in the Velodrome, only six survived the war. 

Why is this relevant? Well, perhaps you will find it interesting that the French official in charge of the Vel d’Hiv roundup was Jean Leguay, who later became the head of pharmaceutical company Warner Lambert, which later became….

Pfizer. 

When the Faucimoms are finally put to rest as old women, will they stipulate that their rotting corpses wear masks? 

Based on how they are treating their children, I doubt there will be anyone at their funerals to object.

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