EMILY OSTER GETS NO SYMPATHY FROM ME

I have greater calls for my concern than the likes of her

I am too overwhelmed by pity for all those who now go to bed each night, wondering whether the junk pumped into them from those devilish syringes is going to destroy their lives or even end them, to give a flying fig for the likes of the dimwits who promoted the prescribed narratives like good little puppets.

Each disablement, each death should hang on their souls like a proverbial albatross and drag them down and out of the view of those of us who fought, tooth and nail, to research, prove and warn until we were de-platformed and condemned to languish silenced and vilified in an obscure periphery by the vicious collaborating social media.

My heart remains heavy with images of thousands queuing for their shots, oblivious of how totally they were deceived. My heart goes out to those who witnessed their loved ones expiring in agony or in isolated loneliness. My heart breaks for those who trusted their tell-lie-vision pundits all the way to an early grave.

The likes of a nobody, wailing for forgiveness in a globalist rag like the Atlantic does not even merit the click it would take to read her half-baked apology for being so stupid, gullible and dangerous to society.

Image from: LET’S DECLARE A PANDEMIC AMNESTY We need to forgive one another for what we did and said when we were in the dark about COVID. By Emily Oster published in The Atlantic on Halloween of all days.

I am too busy watching the health of the world turn to mush while the perpetrators clock up their daily successes in this, their latest quiet war with silent weapons. Emily Oster can plead for amnesty all she wants.

I need no panacea. My conscience is completely clear.