It has been a long time since I have written anything — nearly a month in fact — mostly because I felt I have said virtually everything I needed to say about Power, Covid, sick corrupt governments who murder their citizens, and the like. Some months ago, in an effort to organize the many essays I’d already written, I spent hours collating and providing headers and descriptions of my posts, all in the hope that it would attract readers who, in our day, regard anything as more than a day old as chattel.
It wasn’t so easy, mostly because there was no particularly easy way to give an accurate verbal ‘thumbnail’ of the essays, except for the small minority that were topical and that actually qualified as ‘newsworthy’ — such as reporting on certain events in New Zealand, e.g. Baby Will, Jab Exemptions, which were journalistic rather than ‘essay-istic’.
I follow a number of superb news-providers on substack and other platforms and I marvel at their excellent manner of digesting topical subjects and providing well-written analyses in ‘real-time’ as it were. And although I feel fully capable of what they produce, were I to take up that kind of baton, it’s just not my thing. For good or ill — and I’m inclined more to think it a shortcoming of mine — I say what I say in a vein that is not modeled on the old 3-network news agencies and their new-world counterparts of the citizen journalism that has replaced them and which I admire as one of the great achievements of our digital age.
So I’ve taken this past month mostly to reflect on the plight of Sisyphus, imagining that the Greek King whose punishment for abuses of power and pride earned him the task of rolling a boulder up a hill in Tartarus, in the Underworld, only to have it tumble down just as he reached the summit. Leaving aside the crimes of Sisyphus himself, and the justness of his punishment, I further imagined that with every step upwards the weight of the boulder must have increased exponentially, and the frustration experienced just as the terrible burden was on the verge of ending must have been incomparable.
Thus the weight of the deceptions to which we clear-eyed surveyors of the New World Order’s attempt to sicken, kill and control us via Covid and a plethora of ancillary but no less destructive psyops. The unpredictably multifarious ways in which we have been lied to, with every seasoning of truth to make those lies palatable enough to be given purchase, astound me daily. There’s the flat-out lie, the bold falsehood that says ‘black is white’ or ‘that didn’t happen’, and then there are the limitless offspring of lies that incorporate devious truths.
The January 6th so-called insurrection is a nice case in point. Although I divined from the outset that the whole damn thing was a set-up, a grand falsehood designed to play upon the patriotically beating heart of every American, it managed to convince a hefty number of people smart enough to have seen through Covid.
Which leads me, in my typically roundabout fashion —maybe this is why I can’t do real journalism? — back to Anthony Fauci. Not because he was the sole culprit of the misery inflicted upon us, but because he was one of the chief culprits, and because his rodent-like visage was impossible to escape.
You don’t have to have read RFK Jr’s The Real Anthony Fauci to know that this particularly odious person is, in essence, a real, a genuine, a sickeningly depraved monster whose actions have resulted in the deaths of millions.
I have tried to avoid talking explicitly about the Jab because I, as an opponent from the very beginning, stating clearly at the outset that it was unnecessary and potentially dangerous, have seen my predictions confirmed countless times in myriad ways, and there ain’t much more to be said except that it has made life miserable for many millions and impossible for those it has eventually killed.
Fauci was the greatest proponent of masking, lockdowns, distancing and jabbing anyone who could breathe.
I understand that he is now in the running to receive a uniquely Bidenesque pardon, one that will absolve this nice Catholic boy of any sins committed intentionally or unintentionally in his long and illustriously hegemonic career. Whether his lips mutter a mea culpa or not, it is highly likely that he will be repaid for his murderous ways with legal protection.
In my small personal orbit one great friend of my youth died suddenly, and another has just developed an aggressive cancer. Both were extraordinarily fit and healthy, one received the Jab as a willing participant in the grand vaccination experiment, and the other got it because she had no choice thanks to the mandates here in New Zealand.
And they are only two of the millions whose lives have been destroyed.
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Dr. Garcia is a Philadelphia-born psychoanalyst and psychiatrist who emigrated to New Zealand in 2006. He has authored articles ranging from explorations of psychoanalytic technique, the psychology of creativity in music (Mahler, Rachmaninoff, Scriabin, Delius), and politics. He is also a poet, novelist and theatrical director. He retired from psychiatric practice in 2021 after working in the public sector in New Zealand. Visit his substack at https://newzealanddoc.substack.com/.
He is a regular contributor to Global Research.
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