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some old bullshit

THE INFORMATION

I warm my milk in the microwave for 40 seconds and then, when the machine beeps, I remove the plastic jug and pour the milk onto my Weetabix. I like the hollow clunk the microwave door makes when I close it. The milk is now warm but the weather, well, it’s pretty cold, so I’m wearing my fingerless gloves.

I shake my head, thinking about the comments I’m going to face. I shake 2 tablespoons of sugar onto the softening biscuits. I used to put the sugar on before I added the milk, but somewhere, at sometime, that changed. I buy Waitrose’s own brand Weetbix. They’re called Essential Wholewheat Biscuits and they’re made in the exact same factory as real Weetabix. I found that out in less than three minutes. That’s information for you. It’s all out there, you just need to know where to look. I could just accept that genuine Weetbix are better, after all, that is exactly what mainstream media wants, and unthinking people just buy into it, hook, line and sinker. People! I call them ‘Sheeple‘, because they’re like sheep. Clumped together, baa-ing, their every move manipulated by a BBC/BillGates/Bezos or Zuckerberg.

I am the sheepdog.

Actually, no, I’m not the dog, because the dog is also being manipulated. You know, by that guy in the green with the whistle and the calls.

No, I’m a wolf. A lone wolf. Yeah, that’s what I am. I’m off in the trees, watching, while the sheep get put in a pen. I don’t need to fit in. I don’t need friends. Yeah, I’m a wolf and when you hear me howl you flinch. I could just stay quiet. I’m happy. In the trees. On my own. I’m not cowering and scared like the pathetic sheep are, because I have information. I have a lot of information and in that there’s power.

I’m not magic. It’s all right there but you have to look for it. It takes effort. It’s not just pumped into you. It’s the difference between passive and active. If you get your information passively then you’ve got no control over it. You’re only told what they want you to be told. I call it unformation. I’m outside of their grasp. I do research and the things you don’t know would blow your mind. Actually… thinking about it…

Yeah, actually I’m not a wolf. Ignore that. I’m Neo from The Matrix! Yeah, that’s a good one. I’m Neo and the sheep are the human fuel. All strapped in while the bullshit is being passively fed into their brains by their unfeeling masters. Scared, unconscious sheep.

I’m Neo.

I might change my profile picture. I’ve had the Guido Fawkes mask one for ages.

Yeah, so I’ve broken out from The Matrix and, like Neo, only I can see the world for what it is. I can see the big picture, because I think for myself and do research.

I sit on the couch and I eat a few mouthfuls of Weetabix before I open my laptop. I smirk to myself, and while Windows 10 loads I reposition the tape I’ve put over the webcam. It’s just so deliciously ironic that I’m using one of Bill Gates’ own machines. I like that, the circularity of it. I use firefox to log-in to facebook. I have 17 notifications. I reckon 12 will be thumbs upses and 5 will be laughing or red faces. I’ll deal with those later. Last night I was arguing for a long time with an amateur scientist. She put up a good fight and I nearly exhausted all my links, so I bust out a, “what about cancer deaths?” She didn’t reply to that. Nobody can reply to that, and so I won. I kinda hope she’s posted today.

I find the Jersey Evening Post’s page by searching. I don’t follow the page so it doesn’t appear automatically in my feed. I have to search for it. They get money for each ‘follow’. I lift my bowl up to my chin and eat more Weetabix. And then I’m ready.

I don’t even have to read the comments. I scan the first few, anyway. I could just reply at random to a comment. They’re all basically the same. That’s what happens when you don’t have the information. You panic. The comments are mostly identical in tone. Panicky. It’s fear, really, and denial. The poor sheeple are scared! Look at them, losing their shit over the record number of Covid cases announced last night.

Here’s one. Somebody hysterical about the increase in cases. I hit reply and the box appears. “Ofcourse there are moe cases what do you expect theyre testing more.” I type and I hit post. I only now notice that I missed the ‘r’ from the middle of ‘more’ and now it says ‘moe’. Annoying, but then it always takes me a while to get going. I don’t bother editing it. I scroll down then lean over to get another spoonful of breakfast without picking the bowl up. I’m careful not to drop any drips on my keyboard. I wipe my chin with the back of my glove. Who’s next, I think. Masks. “Italy has complusory masks and cases are through the roof over there.” Bosh!

I see that somebody is literally praying that a vaccine comes soon. They’ve used the hands together emoji. “I hope you enjoy getting injected with poison but I will let my immune sytem deal with it thanks.” That should shut her up.

Fuck. missed an ‘s’.

People don’t want to take personal responsibility. If they would then we could rise up and destroy the Matrix and we’d all be equal. Hello! Here’s one. Calling for a lockdown. Lockdown. The mating call of the loser bird. It’s time to bring out the big guns. I open another tab to get the URL and then I go back to facebook and type “this is what two award winning German scientists say about that!” and then I paste the link to two award winning German scientists. Husband and wife team. I smile as the thumbnail automatically appears. I like it when that happens. How words turn into a picture. I hit post.

I get into it. I really get into it. It’s a good session. Not all of it got through. Most people don’t want to listen, but I manage to post a link to the eBook written by the ex-head of a global pharmaceutical company eight times. A link to a study from 2018 about faces masks six times, and I typed “sweden had no lockdown and it is fine!” at least twice. I only had to mention cancer once. What more can I do? What more can I realistically do?

I’m trying to help these people with my information. Free them from their fears. I want them to wake up and see what I can. I’m about done when I get three notifications in rapid succession. I check them. They’re all from a girl with a heavily filtered picture. She could be 25 or 65, it’s impossible to tell. She’s replied to one of my comments with “finally some sense.” She liked two more comments. I check her profile and see from her content that she has also fully broken free from the Matrix. I send her a friend request.

Today’s “WHAT DO YOU DO BEFORE WORK” was written by, John Le Fondre, Chief Minster of the Island of Jersey

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