OUT OF ESSEX – CHAPTER 38
Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.
Spring had blessed Dan and Mary Fawkes’ marriage with rediscovered desire. The lengthening evenings increasingly ended with them entwined; afterglows and pillow talk reminiscent of their early years.
Dan had also found a quiet place to write: the park’s rose garden, by the tennis courts, where Dave Dawson had pruned every bush the previous autumn. Each visit saw new stems thrust out, moistened by early morning watering.
Dan’s laptop was beyond the park’s wi-fi range. This issue of the newsletter would come from his heart. He began by announcing that two more moneyless communities were up and running, extending the network into Peterborough and Hull. But struggled for the next lines, feeling mesmerised by Edward’s visit hours earlier.
“Was that natural teenage evolution in our son or a quantum leap in consciousness?” Mary later asked her husband.
In sight of the budding willows overhanging the lake, Ed had animatedly relayed his journey down the 9/11 financial trail. While his parents sipped green tea sourced by the park’s Bangladeshi benefactor, Mr Begum, and Steph glided from table to table, taking orders and dispensing.
The 15-year old described the days before September 11, 2001; and the untoward level of speculation that American Airlines and United Airlines share prices would fall in the short-term. Despite an estimated 90 times the normal volume of financial market trading on this outcome, the US Security and Exchange Commission stonewalled the investigation into financial collusion linked to 9/11 events, by citing ‘destroyed’ documents, said Ed. He couldn’t keep his legs still.
“There was a ton of clear evidence indicating people knew in advance of the September 11 attacks,” he insisted. “How come the Texan cowboy Bush didn’t bring the relevant people to justice? ‘Smoke ‘em out’ and make their names public? Any chance his mates were involved?”
Dan cut in. “Move on Ed. The whole truth will never be known.”
Ed smiled, rubbing downy hair each side of his face. “Don’t worry Dad, I took your advice. I looked this side of 9/11.”
Mary hardly heard Ed’s words. Her son was growing up without her. His upper lip was nicked from shaving. Mary remembered school reports suggesting Ed could contribute more. Now he argued that “the real financial story after 9/11 is all about propping up the dollar, often by military force, to maintain it as the world’s reserve petro-currency. And grabbing resources.” Dan was astonished how Ed articulated a complex subject so clearly.
His lad recounted that US General Wesley Clark had spoken publicly in March 2007, telling TV viewers of instructions received shortly after 9/11. Ed said you could find internet videos of Clark relating this story. When the US was already bombing Afghanistan, Clark was given a Pentagon memo describing “how we were going to take out seven countries in five years, starting with Iraq, and then Syria, Lebanon, Libya, Somalia, Sudan and, finishing off, Iran.”
Ed paused, noticing attention from other tables. Dan turned, noting Claire’s rainbow hair inches from Alex’s black face. “Now what I found out is that none of those countries were members of the Bank for International Settlements, the private central bankers’ private central bank.” Dan knew all about the BIS. Ed continued: “These were all countries deciding for themselves how to run their economies, rather than submit to the international banking cabal.”
In a parallel dimension, Maggie dropped her sports bag. She bunched her fists, unable to look up at Yeshua. Taking a deep breath, she croaked: “The Battle of the Beanfield”.
In 1948, George Orwell had written that an accurate vision of the future might be “a boot stamping on a human face”. 41 years later, in southern England, on 1 June, 1985, a convoy of several hundred New Age travellers were prevented from their Common Law right to attend the 11th Stonehenge Free Festival. An exclusion order granted by the British High Court extended four miles around Stonehenge.
“The police violence was horrible,” said Maggie, trembling. “Peaceful, harmless people were deliberately attacked, beaten about the head with truncheons.” The minotaur howled from its lair. “Coaches holding women and children were smashed with sledgehammers. Pregnant women were attacked.”
She wept freely, quivering, unable to catch her breath. “My responsibility. I loathed anyone with a view that they could ‘drop out’ at will,” she sobbed.
Jesus remembered the track by The Levellers, Battle of the Beanfield. After a wailing harmonica, a Clash-like vocal observed how they were committing treason, by trying to live on the road. With a flick of his mind he reviewed a stand-off lasting several hours, before police attacked the procession in the field where the vehicles sat. Some vehicles broke through an adjacent beanfield, to little avail. News flashes showed bandaged heads, screaming females and smoke rising from vehicles. A court judgment six years later found the police guilty of wrongful arrest, assault and criminal damage. “We ordered the TV companies to destroy the worst filmed evidence,” wailed Maggie, vision totally blurred.
Still the big one to go. Jesus asked for the very last shame, watching it wrench its way up through her body. “Please, please forgive me,” she bawled. Her entire body was shivering and shaking. “I chose to ignore a disgusting paedophile element in my own Cabinet. Men who raped children. Do you want the details?”
Jesus answered by reaching down and picking her up. He held her like a baby, kissed her tears away. Satan had and would deal with these people.
Ed had left X-Box far in his past. Mary didn’t recognise her little boy, as he scythed and slashed at established narrative. “I mean, who wouldn’t want Western democracy, even if it is at the barrel of a gun. Our noble and pure way of life eventually gives people a magnificent opportunity. To bank, borrow and rent. Those horrid dictators must be insane to refuse that, and do, generally, have to be eliminated, which frees up their people to live frugally, sometimes to starve, often in a bomb-scarred, privatised landscape.”
“But they adapt, it’s what we humans are good at. Sometimes you need to bring in the IMF, to halve everybody’s pension, as happened recently in Ukraine. Didn’t they have that horrible Viktor Yanukovych, who was often described as, let me recall, yes, that’s it: a ‘dictator’. And didn’t Ukraine’s gold mysteriously exit the country amid all that trouble? Same as Libya. The coincidences never stop.”
Dan had no idea if his son was inspired or deluded. About 30 people had gathered to listen, bunching outside the café. The sound of applause broke out behind them. Dressed in black from head to toe, Satan stood in the sunshine, banging his hands together. “Bravo young man, and don’t ever let yourself be swayed from your wisdoms. Dan, Mary, your boy has the ability to think for himself.”
Ed looked terrified, so Dan introduced them. Although his breath oozed booze, he hadn’t seen Sal look this happy for months. Ed timidly asked him how tall he was. “Seven foot one in my hoof warmers,” he grinned, adding that the situation described by Ed could apply to North Korea.
“Just like Syria, Iraq and Libya, that country has a state-owned central bank, and a leader blackened in the Western media,” said Satan. “On Facebook, they believe that Kim Jong-Un feeds people to dogs. Isn’t it fascinating, though, that North Korea sits on tungsten and other rare earth metals worth trillions of dollars?”
“Here’s a prediction,” said Sal. “The world’s psycho central bankers will have payday loans up and running in Baghdad, Tripoli, Damascus and Tehran in the next decade; and Wonga on every street corner in Pyongyang by 2025, if they don’t nuke it first.”
Ed spoke again, complaining that he had to sit at school with “dumbass kids” who associated the word Muslim with terrorism. “The constant demonising of Islam has actually warped peoples’ brains. Funny, isn’t it, how nameless, faceless enemies can be shifted with the wind to keep wars going indefinitely. Strange how nobody bats an eye when the peace-loving USA provides munitions to its greatest enemy – those despised Al Qaeda terrorists supposed to have caused 9/11 – to fight Assad in Syria.”
Even Satan was quiet. “And who benefits?” asked Ed. Dan smiled inwardly. He had taught Ed the ‘cui bono’ question.
“Once you get your head around it, you can see a never-ending flow of money for those who truly pull the strings. From equipping the police state, the public and private armed forces, the new prisons, and then all the contracts rebuilding the countries which are smashed to fuck by war. Think Carlyle Group, think SERCO, Halliburton and G4S. Think Israeli security companies winning business everywhere. Say hello to the new military-industrial complex.”
Mary recalled how Siddharta had chuckled at her request to protect Ed. “How would you like it Mary? Shall I throw a transparent blanket over him, as if he was Old Leigh awaiting a tsunami?”
It was impossible to picture Ed at school. He was highlighting that hardly any Muslim “terrorists” were caught and cross-examined in courts of law. “Their bodies are shot, blown to pieces, dumped at sea, or locked away in Guantanamo Bay. Where was a single shred of believable, irrevocable proof that terrorists were behind 9/11? A passport found amazingly intact in the WTC rubble, having survived heat sufficient to melt steel? Confessions extracted under torture? Really? Is that it? How credulous can people be?”
Ed was tailing off, losing steam, so Mary asked what he was listening to, changing subject. “Tell you what mum, I’ve found something that made me think music might contain real magic. It’s called Goa Trance. Check out God’s eye on Goa, by The Overlords.”
“Why are we doing this?” Among the spring roses, Dan re-commenced his newsletter.
“Personally, I got off on the sheer dare of the Southend experiment, in an era when human living arrangements generally exhibit a dull conformity. It was exciting to see disparate groups draw together: those who could no longer afford to live anywhere; those who objected to the government’s austerity drive; and others who wanted to create a new social model. What emerged, under a natural quarantine, is an antibody to the mass experiment in human despair beyond our park railings.”
He could see across to a young oak tree, surrounded by red roses, near one of the park’s southern entrances. The memorial to Stephanie Bottrill. Neighboured by a winter sweet chimonanthus praecox, from which yellow tepals blazed and spiralled.
Dan emphasised how self-sustainability was gradually supplanting the subsidies that initially propped up the Southchurch community. “It was with relief, and pride, that the first crop of spinach and lettuces were picked in early February from our farm space, Dave’s Field. We have debated hard about when spring seeds for this year’s crops should be planted, with caution over frosts holding the upper hand.”
They had taken a vote. “That caution manifested through an electronic show of hands, but the real bedrock of our park society is a set of guidelines required when many people live together. In Southend, our lawyer has gone with a fine toothcomb through the land purchase and the laws regarding gatherings. But the park’s true law is no more than a tacit willingness to honour each other.”
As more words formed, a runner passed, hair bobbing in the breeze. “Every day, in the absence of money, and the presence of Natural Law, I witness a greater appreciation of the boundaries of others. Practical agreements – such as maximum noise levels – have been voted in to show respect to those living inside and outside the park.”
Hearing footsteps behind him, Dan turned to see Alex and Claire holding hands. She was telling Alex her dream. “I saw three skies. The first was the mess we often see now, with those unexplained white trails. Then it turned a venomous red. But not for long. This sweet turquoise colour kicked in. It stayed. Green shoots began springing from the ground.”
Claire – alongside Sheena, Ruth, Mary and Claire – had roped the desolate Sarah Dawson ever tighter into their group, which assumed Dave’s former roles in the park. Missing his friend beyond words, Micky Gaze had focused on the practical, mending the plumbing and unblocking the lake drains. He had pumped in his remaining finances.
Dan braced himself for the next section. Please go ahead, said his heart, as the sun emerged. “I hope your communities, as they develop, will replicate something else happening here. In Southchurch, it is as if our 300 plus residents are beginning to recover from two mighty punches administered since 2001.”
When the Twin Towers fell, “the Western world devolved, entropied and dumbed down”, Dan suggested. “Fear and the survival urge drowned humanity, as the airport searches stepped up, the surveillance increased and draconian security laws were passed. Even the most chilled souls were affected.”
Sometimes you had to stick your neck on the line. “You may disagree with my next view, which is retrospective. What we were told we saw and what happened were two different things. We were tested, from a dark place, to see how far humanity could be lied to, to gauge what percentage can be cajoled to look completely in the wrong direction.”
“So, one simple question for each reader. How many World Trade Centre towers collapsed completely, into their own footprint, on September 11th? Time finding and contemplating that answer is time well spent.”
WTC7, the elephant in the room. He was walking with his dad’s 5% now.
“Having had your consciousness assaulted, and your freedom whittled down, it was time for an audacious smash and grab on your wallet. Fast forward six or seven years to the Lehman Brothers collapse and the financial crash. Again, we sat, docile, consenting with hardly a murmur, as governments span the narratives. But some people noticed things. On September 11, 2007, frantic customers were lining up outside Northern Rock, after the first British bank run in 141 years. On September 11, 2008, with both US presidential candidates visiting Ground Zero, Lehman suffered the biggest one-day drop in its stock, before its subsequent bankruptcy catalysed the global crash. Interesting coincidences.”
Dan remembered the relentless messages. ‘The banks must be saved, the ATMs will run out of cash, all hands to the pump!’ He continued: “We were told that large sums of our money had to be transferred to the least responsible, to people that were essentially financial terrorists. And everyone bar Iceland fell over backwards to comply. How did they harvest that consent?”
“Like 9/11, shocking events moved at a speed that allowed for little reflection. Voices of dissent were ignored, or dismissed as treasonous, and the common good was cited. This involved giving trillions of dollars and pounds and euros to the human locusts, the insects that continue to reward themselves with outlandish bonuses, which result from a money system that has always taken the roof from over peoples’ heads. Can you imagine how they laughed, tears streaming, at the fools they had mugged?”
He reiterated some facts. Wall Street banks had eventually received some $23 trillion of ‘support’ at zero interest, with no obligation to give anything back to the wider society in return for this liquidity, while over 15 million foreclosures were enforced by the financial system on US home-owners.
“Show me banks that were chastened by these experiences. It is no exaggeration to say that the City of London and Wall Street are still neck and neck in a competition to see who can rig the greatest number of markets. PPI, foreign exchange, Libor, gold, aluminium, oil and other areas where the deception never ends. Analysts in these markets describe the trends as ‘worrying’, or as having ‘potentially large ramifications for the perceived integrity of the financial system’.”
“Nobody seems to be able to state the profoundly simple truth: This system is run by cheats and is of no further use for ordinary people.”
The next deception was impossible to predict, said Dan. “Any realistic guess would have to encompass death, debt and new losses of freedom. World War 3? A manufactured or hoaxed pandemic? The only certainty is that more chicanery lays ahead.”
He mentioned Mark Carney’s appointment as the Bank of England’s new governor, marking the first non-British head in its more than 300-year history. “Carney is a former Goldman Sachs banker. This prompts me to ask whether you would appoint Ronnie Biggs to oversee British railway security.”
“But why expect better from the British Establishment, where powerful figures are still stifling or eliminating potential whistle-blowers on child sex abuse investigations?”
“To go back to my first question – ‘why are we here? – the answer may be that we are acting both as resistance and renaissance. Rather than fighting the 1% of psychopaths who will not leave the world alone, we have walked away from their negative energy, their laws and their illusion that value comes from printed money. One of us has already died for that. The rest of us are getting their greatest pleasure from helping each other, generating more real power than any skull-fucking rotten empire can ever muster.”
After Dan hit ‘send’, back at the cafe, one of the first pairs of eyes to read his words sat beneath a head of white hair. George badly mourned Eric.
Jesus was still cradling her when Maggie awoke. It was the sweetest, cleanest feeling. “You, my girl, are ready,” said Yeshua. He opened the labyrinth door; told her to walk in, backwards.
She got it. Trust now or never trust again. Bow to ingrained caution; or allow the other option to begin. The quickening of her heart sent more oxygen to her brain. “This is my body reacting in the correct way, in fact oxytocin is just as important as adrenalin,” she told herself, calmly. It came back that oxytocin was of course the ‘hugging hormone’, which primed humans to strengthen their close relationships, and helped hearts to heal.
Hands touching the walls, she watched Jesus grow smaller. Feet tuning into vibrations from the minotaur’s feet. Nostrils detecting the direction of its fetid breath. Yesh nodded. Had she ever felt so alive? A test came at the first bend, where she acknowledged him for the last time before battle. She saw how she could live in her next reincarnation. She would try to surround herself with caring hearts, seek to create benevolence in her life and the wider world.
The minotaur roared, about 15 yards away, shaking the walls. Her ears heard only clues. Her calm was the size of the universe, a million universes, because the challenge she was unable to handle did not exist. And she could never die. She stopped walking and relaxed completely. Let Minnie do the work. “Come meet Maggie,” she whispered. Her heart sensed a golden-purple filament still connecting to Jesus.
She would face her next life singing, making efforts to dance and laugh. Movement registered in the corner of her eye, where images were slowing into individual stills. Foreseeing this moment, God had made Maggie watch ‘The Matrix’ at least 40 times, always stopping the film where Neo Anderson holds up his hand to stop bullets in mid-air.
No point in turning around. She sensed the beast’s right paw descend at a snail’s pace towards her right shoulder. A deft sideways shift sent it out of balance, through lack of contact.
Then it hit her like a hammer. The realisation. Minnie was not just a stinking DNA slurry, bred to terrify and kill. It was imprisoned in this underworld, by its failure to utilise life potential on Earth. Its consciousness anchored it to perpetual anger and isolation. Why shouldn’t she drag the beast from the bottom rung of decay, and relight its divine but dormant spark?
Unlike Theseus, it was not for her to slay the minotaur. Nevertheless, the thing could wreak havoc, so she executed a back somersault to avoid its second rush. Then unleashed an almighty drop kick at its head to give herself space and time. Minnie was unable to rise. Maggie lay with it, smeared in the muck of aeons. She rested her face against the beast’s cheek, perceiving that any ‘us and them’ syndrome represented only spiritual stalemate.
Jesus towered over them. “Feel better?” he enquired. It was April 8, the first anniversary of her death.
9 thoughts on “274. Spring”
Oh, my god, countries not involved with international banking with targets on their backs and doom in store?!
Never thought of it that way before. I always figured it only had to do with wanting their resources!
I couldn’t believe the story about the people attacked and beaten–pregnant women–for wanting to attend a Stonehenge festival! How is that against the law?! Incredible. Your bobbies sound like our cops.
North Korea–now THAT came out of the blue for me. What if it was all lies and propaganda? People have escaped from there–women–talking about being imprisoned or living in squalor and starvation. I suppose you never know. Stories could be coaxed. But there are some real figure heads who’ve come from Korea who confirm horrors in the North, and these people are doing real good in the world, fighting for people, trying to help. So what would they get out of it? Lying, I mean.
Private prisons were mentioned briefly. One of the billionaires who was running for president, Tom Steyer, used to own a private prison. They called him on it during one of the debates and he was like, “Oh, I got out of that as soon as I realized what was going on.” YEAH, RIGHT. Everyone’s so full of shit !!!
I like how you worked in “manufacture a pandemic” into your line-up of possible futures; unless you’re gonna tell me you thought of that in 2011, which is entirely possible. All one has to do, I guess, is imagine all the ways in which our debauched, out-of-control world will try to keep the masses down, possibly destroy them, but most importantly, retain ultimate power.
Speaking of which…not spreading in your town, I take it? Things still good there?
So do you think the disease is real but the panic is completely faked?
🙂 🙂 🙂
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Hi Stacey: Good questions. Thanks.
North Korea. I know next to nothing about the place. But, because it was incorporated in GW Bush’s Axis of Evil (with Syria and Iran) grouping in 2002, I figured that most of the Western news stories will be propoganda. That’s a guess on my part. Some of it may be true. You would know more than me, I think. It’s just across the water from you…..I took a mental shine, for story purposes, to the precious metals that the place has, and its refusal to play Western Banking community games.
The pandemic reference was completely opportunistic on my part. I ain’t no Nostradamus. Which is why I’ve kept away from the topic in the blog. So many opinions flying around, none of which can be miscroscoped until some of the dust has settled, and we can look back and know more clearly what hit us.
BUT…..I will privately send you a newsletter I receive every week or so, from a guy named Gordon White. His blog is called ‘Rune Soup’. Gay permaculture farmer based in Tasmania. He is the cleverest guy I read, with an ability (mostly?) to make his thoughts comprehensible to others.
His take on COVID-19 is based on the official facts: government and multilateral data, but his conclusions differ widely from the official narrative. I read it to Maureen this morning and she sat open-mouthed at the end. I like his writing and his logic. I have an inclination your hubby might also be interested in Gordon’s thoughts.
Locally? There are no ambulances flying up and down the road. Just cherry trees coming into blossom. Of all the people I know, who know lots of others, just one CV-19 death is reported so far. An old guy in central Chelmsford who already had underlying health complications. There is a plan to turn a local ‘park and ride’ space into an overspill morgue. It’s just a brief bike ride, so I’ll be taking a peek at what’s going on.
Honestly, I have rarely felt so free as I cycle the local roads with everyone tucked up in their houses.
Hope you and he are well, and not feeling too anxious about things.
PS: Some favorite sentences:
Neighboured by a winter sweet chimonanthus praecox, from which yellow tepals blazed and spiralled.
Her calm was the size of the universe, a million universes, because the challenge she was unable to handle did not exist.
Maggie lay with it, smeared in the muck of aeons.
🙂 – 🙂 – 🙂 – 🙂 – 🙂
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Thanks Stace. Those sntences are always the most fun to conjure up!
Mm. I gotcha. Thanks for the response. I can see the reasoning and it’s all potentially mind-opening/mind-blowing!
Looking forward to the news letter!
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I emailed it to you….interested in your thoughts. It’s well-argued, but I’m guarding against any fixed ideas. Best thing any of us can do is try and enjoy these unprecedented times. I was gardening today, and had a huge siesta this afternoon. Then old habits kicked in and I thought of the “deadliest nerve agent known to mankind” that was released in Salisbury in 2018 ……..and killed one person. The power of repeated narrative is extraordinary, even when the story lacks reason and logic.
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A manufactured or hoaxed pandemic? Mmmmmm, I have always felt there was an element of ‘let’s see how easily they can be. Controlled.’ I too would love to see that newslettter. ❤️
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Hi Moisy. I’ve desisted from saying much about Covid-19 until the impact became clearer. I don’t think the dust has settled yet – not by a long way – but it looks to be a particularly nasty respiratory illness that is fatal for some people who are elderly or with existing morbidity. The evidence so far suggests that the rest of us are fine, with a tiny few exceptions. Like a bad flu season. So I don’t get why the world was locked up, for something that is not deadly to the vast majority (unless the illness has a sting in the tail!). It looks like the economic and financial damage will make the virus look like a mere irritation. The compliance to government guidance has been astonishing, given that anybody with a computer can investigate the facts themselves, A giant control exercise is a real possibility. Will try and dig out the newsletter for you. ❤️
I am posting it below. Let me know what you think….
What A Difference Holy Week Makes
Usually there is no All Red Line during Holy Week. It seems an improper time to fixate on the nefarious. However a few trusted friends urged me to do so, and it strikes me that “stark, but ending with good news” is precisely the correct energy for Holy Week. And so that is what we offer.
The good news is:
• The US hospital admission rate is much, much lower than official channels wildly and fearfully estimated in what was long predicted as the worst or peak week.
• The death rate is much, much lower than official channels wildly and fearfully estimated.
• As we saw with the initial models reducing down by over 99%, and then the deaths for countries past their peaks, the total estimated death rates have been revised down from -in the case of the US- initially between 2 and 3 million, and then between 100,000 and 250,000 to today’s 60,000. The additional good news there is that 60,000 is exactly how many people die of influenza in the United States in a typical year, and we manage to mourn those losses without destroying all of western civilisation, so there is precedent for how we all move forward after this calamity, which should give us all hope.
• All of this is happening during the second -and worst- ‘Italy week’ for both the US and the UK, whose numbers are also a tiny fraction of the original official estimate.
What better time for a miracle than Easter Week, and a miracle that is testified using only on official data, thus coming with its own natural herd immunity to neoliberal hysteria. We can simply rely on the boots fewer and fewer of them are licking to assemble this very good news.
Let us alleviate even more fear by looking in particular at what the Dead can teach us in Italy and the UK and New York. And then let us look at what the rest of the data can and cannot tell us.
Two key points with Italy. Euromomo records excess mortality and shows that the apparent pandemic experienced this year is in line with many recent flu seasons, skewing slightly bad, as with the (currently worse) 2017/2018 season. And while each death is indeed a family tragedy, what a joy that Italy herself has not been ravaged and decimated beyond our worst fears, and that a national tragedy has been averted.
Secondly, that the Italian Institute of Health continues to go back through the deaths described as Covid-19 deaths, the see whether people were dying of or with what is described as a novel coronavirus. 88% of them had serious co-morbidities. They were also very old. The average age of the deceased who tested positive for what is described as a novel coronavirus was 81. 90% of the deceased were over 70. The two people under the age of 40 who died had cancer in one case and diabetes with additional complications in the other.
Again, very sad. If people were permitted to convene for Easter lunch this year, tears would be shed around many tables for many missing nonnas. As they likely were after the 2017/2018 flu season, according to official data.
Tragically, Boris has left intensive care. But other than that, news out of the motherland is very good. Hospital capacity is managing, the reported death rate is on the low end and on March 31st, Oxford revised its estimated death rate down even further, from 0.51% to 0.1-0.26%, which is the exact range of seasonal influenza in Britain. Miracle of miracles, from one of the world’s leading centres of evidence based medicine.
Staying with world expertise, Sir David Spiegelhalter, a statistics professor at Cambridge -rounding out the top two British universities then- and expert in the public understanding of risk explained that 10% of people over the age of 80 die in any given year, making up a large chunk of the 600,000 people who die in Britain an an annual average. Many of those who will be reported as having/will die of Covid-19 would have died in the short term anyway, and that their personal overall risk was almost exactly the same. Which is to say destroying the lives of the rest of the populace would not alter their risk of death in any measurable way, which is the cover story for our house arrest. (Pity that the curves in Sweden, Japan, Korea and elsewhere refute the efficacy of it.)
More sadness. But also hope. Hope offered from official sources.
USA (But mostly New York)
Staying with the good news coming out of the CDC, hospitalisations for the Italy weeks were overestimated by a factor of eight.
• All beds needed (estimate): 179,267
• Actual hospitalisations (as of Sunday): 22,158
Intensive care was overestimated by a factor of 6.4:
• ICU beds needed (estimate): 33,176
• In ICU (as of Sunday): 5,207
Ventilators were overestimated by a factor of 40.5:
• ventilators: 26,544
• On ventilator (as of Sunday): 656
Even Cuomo, taking a brief pause from running for President, managed to offer some positive news, namely that New York has “more than enough” beds. And on Monday, the head of the CDC itself said the death toll with be “much, much lower” than expected. ICU admissions from the beginning of the month for the first week:
• April 1st: 374
• April 2nd: 335
• April 3rd: 395
• April 4th: 250
• April 5th: 128
• April 6th: 89
In a city of ten million people, with an older demographic than the national average, and among the worst air pollution. Truly, the Lord has been kind.
Fauci, after starting at between two and three million deaths, then dropping down to between 100,000 and 250,000 literally last week, has said it will more likely be around 60,000 (average flu deaths)… yet he has also said we may never shake hands again and we should remain under house arrest until his friend and paymaster, Bill Gates someone develops a vaccine.
We should look briefly at how our illustrious and official experts derive these highly precise estimates, because there is more good news to be had there. But firstly, another joyful pause at the official figures coming in at a miraculously low level.
Data and Testing
Leaving aside the tests that national governments themselves have said have an 80% false positive rate, the most commonly applied tests are looking for antibodies to a virus that has never been purified and lacks a gold standard, but shares antibodies with a virus family that includes SARS, but also includes the common cold and influenza. (Italy has mandatory flu vaccinations, it must be mentioned. How many had antibodies that pinged for Covid-19?) And this test is principally applied to the symptomatic. Professor of epidemiology at Stanford has described the number of cases as “almost meaningless” for all these reasons. Pretty official. I bring this up only to mention that the official number of cases is simply not credible enough to be a source of fear for you. Breathe through it. It’s archons on a pinhead.
The Dead, however, can still teach us. But only when you know how to call them up.
From December to March (flu season), the average number of daily deaths in a country of 330 million is eight thousand per day. In the absence of credible testing, the only way to see an epidemic is to look for a rise in overall mortality which -like in Italy and the UK- is currently absent.
• In March of 2020, 4,053 people were described as having died of Covid-19 in the US.
• In March of 2019, 253,000 people died of all causes. (249,000 in 2018.)
So, as a percentage of an ‘average’ March, 1.6% of all deaths are attributable to coronavirus, yet the CDC said 8.2% of all March deaths were caused by pneumonia. Over the month, deaths described as being caused by influenza dropped from about 1% to 0.8%. 8.2% sounds high -and it is- but by the look of the official data, there has never been a better year to have pneumonia.
God truly is an American. He has spared so many of your elders of dying of pneumonia. Unlike in 2017/2018, when He really came for you:
As of March 24, the CDC released a new/official code to classify Covid-19 deaths and it has not escaped people’s notice that it is openly encouraging doctors to report it as the cause even in the cause of multiple comorbidities -thus achieving an Italy effect and ensuring -given that 60,000 people die of flu-like diseases each year- they can move deaths from one column to another to make sure they hit their number. (There was an immediate bump in cases following the release of the code, which is an artefact of paperwork processing, as many certificates were waiting for it. Genuine viruses don’t jump, they curve. Are you under house arrest to flatten a jump?) And now, in what is frankly a cosmic act of graverobbing, New Yorkers who died at home without any testing -some of whom would have survived had they not been scared away from their own hospitals- will now be included in the total Covid-19 count. The number of dead is now as meaningless as the number of confirmed cases. (Remember the CDC has done this before with swine flu, where they stopped testing because the tests were all coming back negative and then just declared the US had 22 million cases some months later?)
Consider these data future good news. Your immunological risk profile remains what it was at the beginning of this ordeal. (Actually it is likely worse, given you are under house arrest and subject to fear. But you get what I mean.) I share these data so that when the inevitable numbers come out over the next few weeks, you either look closer at them or completely ignore them. And I’m serious about that. Decide, right now, how much you are going to obsess over this each week -one hour? Three?- and fucking stick to it.
Which brings us to my final, hopeful suggestion.
The Shape of the Op and What To Do About It
The shape of the op is now clear. Bill Gates was caught saying his goal is to keep total (measured improperly) infections under 1% because anything beyond that means herd immunity is guaranteed. And that’s because he intends to sell the whole planet a synthetic version of it, complete with total digital surveillance. And the ion cannon of house arrest and destroying small businesses will be flipped on and off again to achieve this. Already they are starting to crow about the efficacy of house arrest and dysfunctional human distancing as being the ‘reason’ for these lower death rates. Pity about countries like Sweden, Japan, Korea and so on that had the exact same ‘curve’ and didn’t arrest its populace in quite the same way. But the ion cannon will be used (very likely over the election) in the Fall as the house arrest process guarantees there will be a return of the collection of symptoms and conditions we have classified under this flimsy umbrella of a somehow-highly-contagious-and-deadly-new-virus.
This is where we need to look next. We have reached the ‘peak’, found it a molehill (miracle!) and so we need to reset for the next challenge. And the one after that.
So here is my earnest suggestion. I knew a guy back in London who effectively lost a couple of years of his life to 9/11. Whichever red pill one first takes, there is the risk of falling into a manic, conspiracy hobbyism and it can hijack your life. I understand the pull. The crimes of the plandemic are breathtaking -not in their intricacy but their crudeness. It’s astonishing. You want to yell at the whole world until they see it.
Don’t do that here. You have sufficient data to assess your own risk to the collection of symptoms associated with this year’s particular northern hemisphere influenza-like illness wave (which includes pollution and yes, possibly EMF, as contributors, as it always does). By now, most people have arrived at the official tomb and found the stone rolled away. Most people know -even if they can’t articulate it- that their house arrests and lost jobs and domestic violence and shredded mental health- have been forced upon them for non-transparent reasons. We are that majority.
Leave the fortunately-shrinking rat king of neoliberal bootlickers and online bullies to duke it out with the conspiracy hobbyists who still wish to argue that this is a 5G-activated bioweapon unleashed upon America by China or something. Pray for them and hope they join us in their own time. Related: don’t argue with anecdotes. You are about to hear endless examples of how your neighbour’s hairdresser got sick or whatever. Keep to the data. Either they do not and will never understand it, or they are too traumatised by the implications of this being an op that they cling to their personal connection to the official story. (This is what I mean about fear being a form of pseudo-enchantment.)
One way to think of it is you have just witnessed World Trader Center 7 collapse at freefall speed in front of all of us. That is how brazen the plandemic is. And it effects people differently. If this is the first time you have been confronted with the High Crimes of the imperial powers that they continually inflict upon us then you are being forced to revise your entire understanding of how the world works. Yes, you probably should have done that before you ended up inside one of those stories, but no time like the present.
So sleep. Meditate. Exercise. Don’t eat crap (excluding chocolate, this weekend only). Don’t give in to fear. And save your rage for the state, not your neighbours, lest you become the state. This week of all weeks, don’t go running to Pilate. You will need all your coherence for the coming months. The imperial powers do not fuck around. They literally killed God.
It didn’t take, though. It never does.