As one of Celia Farber's readers comments on her Substack column today, "You've so beautifully translated the horror." The horror being the world we live in, three years later. Today.

From "An Unnecessary Expression":

They began so long ago, flogging and inverting the best in us, shaming us for opposing our own extinction, which we were supposed to thank them for. We all had to get dragged into this algorithm of madness, because of their ‘virus’ obsession, which—do you believe me now—is insatiable. No amount of human sacrifice will ever sate it. A bunch of nothing people, who somehow pulled off 9/11 on steroids every day while we weren’t paying attention.

It can’t ever unhappen. The children found dead in their beds—

Who wants to even imagine what nurses witnessed on maternity wards, or how they came up with new language to deflect all normal reactions, all grief? Who will treat their trauma wounds, when admitting one felt trauma insults the architects of all this death, and we can’t have that. Through our muteness we must conceal crimes too big to speak of. All because they had to have their way with us, in the holy name of a virus psychosis so advanced it didn't even require a virus.

Passing lobsters in a tank in the supermarket with rubber bands around their claws, you no longer feel you have more freedom than they do, or maybe this is all karma.

What did we do?

Twice today I was asked: “Do you feel vindicated?”

Truth is I feel nauseous. And complicit. To have partaken in esoteric head games about “the science” or worried about the mean boys—issuing degradation to those who lack scientific fluency. Who can describe any of this? And to what end?

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