Have We Ever Stopped To Think About The Staff On Delivery Wards? This May Be The Hardest Piece You Have Read Yet.

Sage Hana Has Published A Direct Testimonial From A Hospital Laborer: "This one case I will never forget."

"I want people to understand these placental abruptions that lead to dead fetuses. I want them to know some are born alive but too young to resuscitate so you hold them until they die."

Article here.

Has anything so wildly cruel ever been conceived of in the history of humanity as pushing these shots on pregnant women?

I think about the OB/GYN staff often, I have no idea how they do it. This man, Brandon is Not Your Bro, is a hero. To remain human, compassionate, sensitive, to bear witness to hell itself—just incredible. And he does it every day. I have hesitated a little to publish sentiments about hanging these people high, because I didn’t want to call for mass hangings, because don’t that not mean I’m just like them? I don’t know. Hanging them won’t help. Nothing, it seems will help, except time reversal. Can somebody reverse time? Go back to 2020 and stop this whole hell, stop it cold, in its tracks, this diabolical insanity? Can we at least admit it’s happening?

This morning I prayed to be able to feel hope again. Maybe that’s foolish, maybe even selfish. Why should I feel hope, when babies are being severed from their mother’s placenta on a routine basis in the United States, born into a bloodbath that gets hushed up, for fear of anybody seeming anti-vaxx— and this is considered responsible OB/GYN care in America 2022? The appropriate feeling is functional despair. And that’s how I feel, every day, and have since 2020. I’ve been embarrassed about it. It felt like spiritual failure, not to be able to generate “joy,” or “hope.”

I’ll feel “hope” when the first arrest happens. IF it does. They made an idol, a Godhead, out of these shots, they made it so that you can question anything except what is clearly killing people on such a mass scale, it transcends our brains’ capacity to accept. And I can feel that outer limit of my brain—I can feel it saying: “Can not compute. Can not compute.” And then the numb, joyless, zombie-like new version of myself takes over and just carries on, like we all do. Sometimes I fear the truth is we will never feel joy or hope again because those are luxuries of the past, before this Satanism on steroids began. So forget hope or joy, I tell myself. What right have you to look for that? They are only fleeting emotions made possible by blocking out 99% of reality.

The word diabolical means to split, to sever. The thing these demons, from AIDS to Covid, all their agents of death, have is common, is an obsession with severing. Mother from child is perhaps their most prized severing.

In Mandarin, the character for the word “good” is a mother holding a child. My father told me that once.

Do the perpetrators know? Do the paid bullies in media know? Does Michael Spector know the truth of how his every article has been a killing manual?

Let me just say it again: All of this came from the dark pod-seed you were meant to revere in the 80s and 90s called “AIDS activism.” It pushed for, and it got, the total collapse of the FDA’s 10 year drug approval process, in the name of an “urgent” response to AIDS. AZT was thus approved, thanks to one Peter Staley (ACT UP) and his ilk, in 17 weeks. This would become an eternity, as the new drug-rush kicked in. Now HIV drugs are approved in a few weeks—if that. There are over 70 of them that are “FDA approved,” which means nothing at all. And I hear the next thing is there will be zero consideration of safety or efficacy for new vaccines and drugs, since it’s so irresponsible. That’s 100% an AIDS PSY OP.

A thing that urban, sexually hyper-active Walls St. connected gay men wanted. And they had to get what they wanted.

Mothers are nothing.

Postscript, written after I posted:

There is one thing I make sure I do every day and that is that each morning as soon as I wake up I thank God for the gift of another day. Then I ask him to tell me what to do and to be as precise as he can. I think the battle is going to be very long and so we must pace ourselves.