It was flailing, something to make headlines. Something good on the six o'clock news. "Our wonder weapons are smashing their cities!" A distraction, something to change the subject, oblivious that people were dying for the purpose of creating a better newscast.

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Not since the waning days of World War Two has there been such a display of futility. The German Fuhrer losing the war unleashed a barrage of V-2 rockets each with a one-ton warhead on London. Militarily it was pointless. It was flailing, something to make headlines. Something good on the six o'clock news. "Our wonder weapons are smashing their cities!" A distraction, something to change the subject, oblivious that people were dying for the purpose of creating a better newscast.

The Pitchman in Chief goes full infomercial on Chloroquine, as the wonder drug. Say friends, are you feeling tired and run down? Has the global pandemic that no one could see coming taken the spring out of your step? Try Chloroquine, Chloroquine has twice the iron as a pound of horse meat! Chloroquine removes stains from your clothes better than any other leading car wax! {Warning!} These claims have not been approved by the Food and Drug Administration or the National Institute for Automotive Shine.

Just shoveling sh*t with a snow shovel, just putting it out there. Children, Daddy brought a miracle cure. Everything is going to be all right now. We can all return to our former lives again. I'll take a bow here, and you can begin to thank me. Just another reason we should all listen to the Cheeto and his gut. Pfff, medical science, what do they know? I've heard really good things about this drug and while there is no actual "proof" you never know"it might work.

And then he said it. With a straight face on national television he said it"what do we have to lose?

You never know, Twizzlers covered in applesauce might work"you never know. A witch doctor with feathers in his headdress and a bone through his nose waving raw chicken parts might work. In the correct PPE of course. A pill is not a ventilator. It is a V-2 headed for London to distract because the Cheeto has no clothes. You know, I'd like to talk about ventilators but first, let me tell you about Grandpa's Don's down-home Chloroquine. Friends, it's the gentile laxative! After one dose of Grandpa Don, you'll be ready to sh*t for days! And it tastes good too!

More at: https://carbonbaselife.car.blog/2020/04/06/now-im-not-a-doctor/

Authors Bio:

I who am I? Born at the pinnacle of American prosperity to parents raised during the last great depression. I was the youngest child of the youngest children born almost between the generations and that in fact clouds and obscures who it is that I am really.

Given a front row seat for the generation of the 1960's I lived in Chicago in 1960. My father was a Democratic precinct captain, my mother an election judge. His father had been a Union organizer and had been beaten and jailed for his efforts. His first time in jail was for punching a Ku Klux Klansman during a parade in the 1930's. I never felt as if I was raised in a family of activists but seeing it print makes me think, yes. That is a part of who I am.

We find ourselves today living in a world treed by the hounds of madness, a complicit media covering contrite parties. Multilevel media, giving more access to communication yet stunting actual communication. More noise, less voice, more sound less music, more law less justice, more medicine less life.