Liam has a fashionable name and is a modern 27 year old man. He’s my houseguest and the best friend of my son, who is on the other side of the country.
To get to know him, I asked what he did to get accepted to the Ivy League university with my boy, who was both an All American and California state champion runner. Liam answered that he wasn’t so special.
But when I explored further, I learned that he was a pianist, a concert viola player, a studious, competitive chess player, and both a varsity runner and swimmer at Trinity, his elite prep school. He told me modestly that the place was filled with entitled brats whose parents were investment banker thieves. I had to press him to find out that when he took the SAT admission test for Brown, he only missed ONE question. And that he only took it once and didn’t study specifically for the test. His result was one in a thousand or better. At that point, I asked my wife if she understood how elite this kid was?
I thought I was done, but we started chatting about Liam’s family. His siblings have degrees from Harvard, Oxford, and Cambridge, along with international research grants. And his loving parents, who hosted my son like one of their own—for weeks at a time—own a well-known international book business that they built over the past 20 years with their own hands. Mama bear, who I have never met, sounds like a polymath. After I learned all this, I told my young friend that UCLA law school was not going to be much of a challenge for him.
By then, I felt as if Liam could have been one of my own, so I asked him if he had the jab. He said he had three, and I stopped, stunned.
I asked him if he realized that he had consented to injection with a toxin that potentially turned his body into a spike protein factory that might run for years—or the rest of his life, however short or long that might be. I discussed the Watson/Crick Nobel Prize winning sequence of DNA to RNA to protein and how this is perverted and reversed by the mRNA injection. He didn’t know.
He had heard about the dying athletes and airline pilots, and he had family acquaintances who had also fallen after the jab. I told him about my friends dropping dead and my dear lifelong climbing partner who had a massive stroke and will never speak again. I asked Liam if he knew of the 85 percent plus miscarriage rate for pregnant women, or the stunning 10 to 30 percent decrease in live births reported a few weeks ago in heavily “vaccinated” countries, or that the chances against this happening by chance was trillions to one. He didn’t know.
I asked him if he understood the evidence proving the Gates foundation’s or Fauci’s guilt or the chain of evidence implicating the Chinese Communist Party in the COVID disaster. I asked if he knew Pfizer and Moderna were significantly (? majority) Chinese owned. He didn’t know.
I wondered if he had considered the VAERS fatality data that when extrapolated showed tens of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of US deaths due to this supposed COVID vaccine. Or that any vaccine before this had been discarded after less than 50 fatalities. Or the German and Illinois insurance statistics showing the ENTIRE POPULATION’S forty (40) percent mortality increase coincident with the vax usage. Or the twenty (20) point IQ drop for little children during the lockdowns. He hadn’t.
I paused, and Liam assured me that discussions like this were normal in his family and that his ethnic group was trained to sort out truth using heated debate. So I went on in this vein for another twenty minutes.
He didn’t know about the court ordered Pfizer/FDA document dump or the analysis showing they knew two months after the rollout that their product would kill many thousands, possibly many millions worldwide. He didn’t know that Pfizer tried to get the court to release the material over SEVENTY-FIVE (75) years, an absolute badge of fraud.
I discussed the other frauds surrounding COVID and the jab. That treatments such as ivermectin would have saved millions of human lives but were concealed behind a wall of lies and coordinated propaganda. Did he remember the horse medication ads? Did he realize that the COVID “long hauler” syndrome and the Sudden Adult Death Syndrome (SADS) were virtually all vax injuries and NOT mysteries? That Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) nearly always occurred within a week after childhood vaccines? That NO pediatric vaccines had been studied using placebo controls? (These will never be properly studied because vaccines were granted relief from civil liability in 1986.)
Liam asked weakly whether these examples might be correlation and not causation. So I asked him whether he knew that more than 10,000 normal US children, immediately after a childhood vaccination, had fallen to the floor, began banging their heads, and NEVER SPOKE AGAIN. Or whether he understood that childhood “autism”—neurological damage—had gone from less than 1/10,000 to 1/30 since Congress granted the vaccine liability relief in 1986. Or that the number of vaccine injections recommended by “authorities” were five when I was a kid and seventy-five (75) now. Or that the incidences of the diseases that the vaccines were purported to treat were ALL dropping like stones due to simple public health measures BEFORE the vaxes were introduced. These damning “anecdotes” made further study or usage of these injections a criminal act.
Did he now understand now that these fake “diseases” were gaslighting. That… well after this, I went speechless. He hadn’t heard any of it before.
Relations between sons and fathers are fraught. My son and I always circle each other like dogs, watching and sniffing warily. We love each other but he would never put up with a beating such as I laid on his friend. Our relationship is freighted by our history.
But Liam and I have no such handicap. He may have seen me as an old fool that he had to suffer. But I don’t think so. To his credit, he listened. The advantage of being twice someone’s age is the ability to read their mind. In this rare case, I am sure I showed him enough of the matrix that he saw its outline.
Current events are so complex that for those with little information—and that’s almost everyone now because most sources have been kidnapped—reading The Real Anthony Fauci and other references is the only path to the truth. The hardest part to grok is the deep evil of the actors behind the plots. Some of them care more about torturing us than acquiring fortune, which is an incomprehensible feature of psychopaths. Religious people call them devils.
Liam is the smartest guy in almost any room, even in my home. He had already worked through the start of Butchered by “Healthcare,” so he does read. I’m hoping that he gets the f**k**g memo now. We need lawyers with his talents, and he’d better not get any more injections if he doesn’t want to DROP DEAD.
I also hope—even pray—that my son listens to him. He doesn’t listen to me.
YESTERDAY I ACTED LIKE A JACKASS