So, how’s the plandemic going, people?
Tinfoil hat still comfortable, or has it begun to chafe?
On 29 November 2020, I lampooned the CDC’s predictions — 321,000 deaths in the US was their Christmas wish — now, by 28 August 2021 they expect 642,000 deaths to be reported in the US.
But this is the CDC, who should be in the meteorology game, so place your bets, COVID deniers — one million dead patriots by Christmas?
I often begin with US statistics because it puts things in context.
Of course, a country with 360+ million inhabitants has different issues to a country of 26 million living on a remote island. But it was exactly this–our geographical isolation–which lulled us into a false sense of security.
We let Natalie Portman in. We let Zac Efron in.
We let Delta in.
I predicted nine months ago — the virus is here, waiting to slip out of a quarantine hotel or roar back to life from dormancy in some asymptomatic super-spreader. We have 356 new cases today, three more deaths, and no plateau.
The Prime Minister, making shit up to save his ass. Throwing ATAGI under the bus.
The NSW Premier — always sticking to the truth — but with maybe a handy three-day lag, telling our CMO to go smoke ’em if she’s got ’em.
But I’ll make another prediction.
Our hospitals aren’t overwhelmed yet, but if we get to 1000 cases per day, they will be. When that happens, everything will fall apart. The Health Minister will get his Hunger Games, and we’ll be shoving grannies in supermarket aisles again.
In the meantime, my order from Black Rifle Coffee Co. arrived, and I need a second brew. I don’t feel embarassed wearing their t-shirt anymore, now they’ve rejected their crazier demographic. Then I’ll iron some clothes, cut my own hair, and prepare myself mentally for tomorrow.