Musings on a little man
Today I saw Dr. Death spouting off again about who should be allowed to attend Christmas festivities, etc. According to Lord Fauci, if you’re not vaccinated then you should be told to stay away from others. You should maybe stay in your basement, alone so as not to contaminate anyone other than yourself. This leaves aside the information that people who are vaccinated are spreading the disease and onboarding the disease. We’re all supposed to forget about that, if that information has even crossed paths with most people.
If I could get within ear shot of this little troll I would tell him that he needn't tell me to stay away from my family. His prior musings have created a fear in one part of my family that lives on and will probably live on until the elder members die. You see my son is not vaccinated. When he was born a doctor discovered a murmur in his heart. Turned out to be an issue with a valve that was corrected utilizing a small procedure and since then he appears to have a healthy ticker. Unfortunately though, it has left my son, and the family that surrounds him with a concern about these jabs. Should my son, who at 19 years old may not be the wisest kid on earth but, according to our law he is an “adult” able to make his own decisions, onboard this “vaccine" given the risk for young men? He has decided not to and I support him in his decision. As a consequence of that decision though, we are now left out of one part of our family holiday celebrations.
Fear can be a sickness and fear has invaded a part of my family that I hold very dear. My aunt and uncle are both in their 80s and, since the start of this thing, I have been in their presence ONCE…one time. They allowed me in because I’ve been jabbed and only because I’ve been jabbed. We never talked about the reason - they knew about my “vaccination status" - but it was clearly why I was allowed to enter the home where, during the first 53 years of my life, many Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations, had occurred. I was allowed into the home that had once, when I was a kid been my home. Where my mother had taken me to live with her sister so she could get back on her feet after the divorce from my father. Where I’d spent time with my cousins, one of whom had served as a surrogate brother during our childhood. Where I can still remember sitting at the Thanksgiving table next to my now dead mother, laughing as I hadn't laughed all year. Watching my daughter laugh along with the grandmother she came to adore and misses now that she is gone.
All of that is, apparently, over now. Why? Because “Dr. NO” says so. Because a little man in an office located a 12+ hour drive away decided that his own grandiosity is more important to him than families gathering at Christmas. Little Tony Fauci, the apparatchik in Washington DC, along with his minions created a fear in my aunt and uncle that no amount of persuasion will change. A fear that has led them to cower in their home for years now, away from others who wish to be with them at Christmas.
Anthony Fauci is small in stature and in soul. He has the heart of the Grinch and tyrant and as this Christmas day approaches I can only hope that what’s left of his soul will be granted grace by the power the created us all.