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In reference to my comment “but for some quirk of fate, I too might still be none the wiser” (below), a reader on another stack asked “...wondering, if it’s not too forward, what quirk you attribute your perspective to, (accident of birth, learned experience, influence?)”

I thought my response was worthy of re-posting and pinning here...

“I don't think I can put it down to “one” thing. The quirk of fate is me being me; which is to say a combination of (in no particular order) an insatiable curiosity, a strong dislike of falseness/deception/mendacity, an addiction to the truth, a willingness to stand alone and a disgust/distrust of both groupthink and crowds/mobs/cults. Also, I suspect a contributing factor might have been having a father who, occasionally, questioned certain things in a way that others didn't and wouldn't dare. And last but not least and perhaps most importantly, is my having not just the inclination, but the time to research some of the endless topics we're not supposed to look into ... or put differently, to indulge in thoughtcrime.

Around the summer of 2016, sensing a shift of gears in the media cartel's mendacity — especially surrounding russiagate-type russophobic demonization — I made a point of sending (once a week) truthlinks to the parent in all of my siblings' families who I thought had the most free time and/or might be most receptive. Subjects I tried to enlighten them on apart from russiagate and the usual political insanity, were some of the other prime narrative suspects, including Ukraine, Syria, 9/11 and climate. What I had hoped to foster was both a sense that most (if not all) of the “news” they were consuming was unadulterated hornswogglery of the most nefarious sort, and a realization that our rulers were part of a criminal operation whose reach was almost limitless and whose depravity was virtually fathomless.

Ideally, my efforts would have resulted in the redpilling of those families, which needless to say, some four years later would have paid real-world dividends in their being wise to, or at least suspicious of, Operation Covid as it unfolded. It is perhaps the great heartbreak of my life that these efforts proved fruitless. Despite a mass e-mail to all my siblings, nieces and nephews, etc.. shortly before the quacksine roll-out in December 2020, warning them that this magic jab was not remotely what they were being told it was — imploring them to think long and hard before doing their sleeve-roll-up duty — every last one of them took the juice.

It's tragic. All my relatives live in a world of floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall propaganda. While they and I live on the same planet, our “realities” are as chalk and cheese. But what's far more tragic is that I'm but one of untold millions who are in the same surreal situation.”

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This poem was revised on DEC 16, 2024.

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