2023 has brought to Normieville the invisible worm that flies by night. It burrows in the mind, causing an itch that can't be scratched. It comes attracted by the Siren Song to feast on the endless supply of cognitive dissonance in the new normal.
The itch has folks seeking something to scratch on. The prescription blue pills don't hit the spot; word on the street is that only the red ones get the itch scratched good. But to find them one must venture off the plantation to where the wild ideas lurk.
The Dispatch has run into several Normieville acquaintances meandering outside the boundaries of the sanctioned Narrative. Like the Siren Song, this used to be a rare event. Now the Dispatch doesn't leave the Brickhouse without a few red pills to hand out in case of need.
It started just a few days into the new year, when the butcher mentioned “the stuff they're spraying in the sky”.
Chemtrails is a good starting point. Everyone can see the white trails that linger and ooze until the sun is blocked but most think they are “normal” and ignore them. A few may be curious enough to search and find out about geoengineering, climate modification and weather control. At that point some may begin to wonder what else they don't know about the world they live in. And thus the journey starts.
The Dispatch just happened to have a pill for that.
“They're trying to block the sun and reduce carbon dioxide, the two things plants need to survive. It's almost like they want to starve us or something.”
If the terrain is ready, plant a seed and let it grow.
A few days later it was a neighbour, a retired gentleman of solid Normieville credentials, who confided his opinion to the Dispatch in an unsolicited manner.
“This whole green energy thing is a con, if you ask me,” he said.
So the Dispatch obliged.
“Did you know that those giant wind turbine blades can't be recycled and end up in landfills?”
It was a cheap shot but it's true and fuck the retarded green agenda. If the seed is already sprouted, water it.
But the anecdote that took the prize was with the community cleaning lady. After our usual banter about the weather, she suddenly tapped her right shoulder and asked point blank:
“What did they put in us?”
The Dispatch was blown away. It was the first time this question had come directly from someone who took the jabs. The appropiate pill had to be carefully selected.
“The contents are secret. Aside from the companies that make them, nobody knows. Not even the doctors.”
Which is a hard fact. Sure, there are folks studying the vial contents who claim to have found all sorts of nasty stuff but for now it's still speculative, and definitely not the best place to start with newbies. The fact that not even doctors know the actual contents is already disturbing enough to them... as well it should be.
A deep and winding rabbit hole connects her question to the Siren Song. In the old normal you had to go down the rabbit hole for answers.
In the new normal of 2023, the rabbit hole goes down you.
Dispatch out.
God, I love these. A touch of sanity in an utterly insane world. Thank you for the mind morphine.