There are few impossibilities, one of those being the ability to follow science. Pure science is too far ahead to be followed.
That which is left in the resulting wake of exploration isn't scientific. Science isn't claims made by News Science and marketers for trillion $ industries. Science isn't a scientific research paper funded by The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation or The Rockefeller Foundation: That's simply business as usual, and it's been like that for centuries.

“Follow the science” is this era's “Sol orbits Earth”. Can you do science or do you merely script and parrot slogans and opinions. Are you capable of writing your own research paper or do you merely read the research papers of others.

Science on its own teaches nothing, and nothingness; experience teaches.

A scientist isn't a labcoat, beakers, and sponsorships. I've had some of the most adept scientific mentors on the planet come to unanimous consensus that I'm too idealistic for this world. I was ******* from the get-go lol. There isn't a universal constant and universal law that I can't conceptualize and understand inside-out, and I now know less for certain than I did when I was 5 years old. But, every second person claims to be scientific. *******.

Knowing how macromolecules chain into larger polymer chains, and how those polymers chain together to cause a tangible “object”, so to speak, is being an eternal Padawan Apprentice following a creek bed in the bedrock of an echochamber canyon that reverberates to the choir. Knowing how the tests, medicine, drugs, cosmetics, foods, and most everything else that people absorb and use, function and interact, and being careful to snot mistake co-relation for direct-strength causality, is a very alienating existence in society. Most everyone supposedly knows most everything: It has the atmosphere of a morgue and slaughterhouse merged into a box for this Brave New World.

Cattle life is but a blue screen dream to merrily row through to the hypnotic beat of North America's nightmarishly silent screams.

Apex power and hyper-philanthropists
could've been transparent, dropped the
Technocratic Wizard of Oz horseshit act,
simply asked for Martyrs who “follow the science” to step forward in the name of science, progress, and duty to free society and the good of the whole,

and most of the denatured cowards,
heartless tin soldiers, and dumbed-down scarecrow double agents for Empire,
would've come forward in lock-step, lined up along the fool's gold brick road to receive
the shots of Kool-AIDS in a sense of duty, piety, virtuosity, and self-righteousness,

regardless.

Could've been transparent, explained that
the Fiat economy crashed, that it's being held
up with strings as illusory slop for the trough, that The Fourth Industrial Revolution is being ushered in, and 75% of the global population doesn't have Golden Tickets to The Great Show.

I've always promoted and advocated for medical ethics and proper informed consent.

Snowflakes drape the violets—
a splash of how the human spirit
can be, personified.

The pale faces and minds dangle
on the precipice where the lost begin

and end themselves.

I sense their impending strokes,
aneurysms, Myocarditis,
failing immune systems, acquiredautoimmunodeficiencysyndromes,
sterilization, and aggressive cancers
loom on the horizon
of the frozen ground of their minds.
I sense the digital serpent coiled
in their ribosomes and nuclei.

"Which brand did you choose?"

Choose? A momentary inner wince
is contained in polished discipline.

"I don't need to take your shots,
I've been selected to slither through
the polygon window."

Lackluster irises reflect the violets
that bounce to hits of heavy, wet snow fall,
their petals open to the waning light

in defiance.

"You rolled over like *******,
brag over begging for more."

It soars over his head like the dark,
pregnant snowclouds roiling above
us.

Hopefully, only 7 years remain
of watching people **** themselves
and their loved ones in denatured
cowardice and mindless obedience—
enough to appease the hyper-capitalist
bloodlust for progress and ignorance.
I can survive 12—7 years will be
enough horror and tragedy
to fill lifetimes.

Don't speak of that for 14 years,
and don't speak of this for 7 years.
Don't ever mention OPERATION F,
and only mention Project D
without disclosing Appendix A & B. In
3 years, that is.

Yes, Master.

Hopefully, enough of the cowards
and mindlessly obedient **** themselves
and each other during the next 7 years

in order for the poor and the meek
to inherit the Earth—push through
the snow in defiance,

sow the spark and glow
of human spirit and nature
in the garden once again.

It's a downer to express the largest-scale tragedy of my lifetime

over and over again.

I've combed through 10,014 medical malpractice reports of young people who had been strong and without complication up until receiving the one-eyed technocratic snake bite that supposedly has nothing to do with their suspicious deaths,

I've gone through 25,117 autopsy reports (not every report: I scanned bunches of 250 reports in 10 groups of 25 reports or 25 groups of 10 reports at a time for very specific details, though I've read some of the reports 5 or more times) of elderly people who had survived world wars, epidemics, pandemics, and many outbreak and spikes, only to succumb within 72 hours of receiving whichever junk SGT inoculations that have nothing to do with their untimely deaths—

that occurred in North America
over a 2 week period.

I'm not supposed to talk about it.

I'm not supposed to express anything
other than expressions of agreement
that Delta variants and the unvaccinated
are killing the vaccinated

or express nothing at all.

I'm not supposed to express that I know the ingredients, and the processes involved to source ingredients, on chemical, molecular, cellular levels; that I know the MSDS and LCSS documentation, and patents, involved.

But, I do express it, just as I did again above.

When someone claims that their significant other didn't die from the shot that they had received within 24 hrs of dying,
I'm supposed to agree with the cheap, disloyal, dumbed-down, brainwashed, bootlicking, unscientific, pseudo-intellectual, spineless coward

who is hurting from losing a loved one.

I'm sorry.

I'm not supposed to express that we've known since 1991 that the synthetic chemical digitized mRNA, that isn't really mRNA, causes the host to spin-off variants of multi-drug-resistant and multi-vaccine-resistant super microorganisms—subtype variants of virions and bacteria that are often variants of variants of variants.

I'm supposed to stay zipped-up
or—encourage!—offer support
and congratulations to people
who are suiciding and committing
****** and euthanasia

without proper informed consent.

Be positive about it. Smile. Nod.

Have it be whatever you want it to be.
Use mockingbird skills to make it real— abracadabra!—it's en vogue, all the rage
to parrot percentages of efficacy,
to virtue signal over standing with
trillion $ industries and special interest
against Earth and humanity.
Insert cash money and mirages
into the soul-******* jukebox, baby.

Rage With The Machine.
Rage For The Machine.

Yesterday's false-positive
is today's false-negative.

Thomson Reuters will fact check you
into a cancer case to vindicate delusions, stubbornness, and negative pride.

I'm not supposed to express that within the principles and disciplines of medical ethics and the Hippocratic Oath, it's ethically corrupt and illegal to use political and emotional coercion, especially while simultaneously dangling fear over the intended target, to enforce/push any drug treatment, regardless of situation.

I'm supposed to use dope and *****
and a movie
to switch tracks
from my passionate obsession.

I watched a movie that included
a medical health scam to entrap the people
in a fashion similar to when the Germans believed that they were receiving vaccines
that helped to defend against typhus.

If we ever find ourselves in opposite sides
and positions as we are currently,
please offer proper informed consent
to the people.

(snottah poem)

In full disclosure that the following expressions are based on conjecture, I want to add my own COVID-19 mythology into the mix.

I will use method acting to become immersed in a mythological character who has the desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections with a multi-drug-resistant & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant SCoV2 variation that people label erroneously, as: Omicron.

Not only do I—the mythological character—desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections, I want to protect the "unvaccinated".
Within that hypothetical, mythological scenario, I know that the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections can cause specific types of immune white blood cells to become transfected & die, & that COVID-19 mRNA injected hosts shed extremely harmful, artificially-elicited SCoV2 Alpha B.1.1.7 variation S glycoproteins that can harm the "unvaccinated". The "unvaccinated" already have enough to deal with, as is, especially as many of the "vaccinated" seem to become more socially tyrannical towards the "unvaccinated"—& in general—with each new "booster" received.

Aside from causing "Omicron" to become multi-drug-resistant, & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant, in my interest to protect the "unvaccinated" from the more potentially dire effects of "Omicron" infection, one of my main points of interest with "Omicron" is to edit a non-linear sublineage "Omicron" variation progenitor in a way that disables its ability to infect immune white blood cells via their LFA-1 receptors in order that "Omicron" infection doesn't cause a form of AIDS in the "unvaccinated". The mythological character, that is I, desires for some **** sapiens to survive the Transhumanist COVID-19 Great Reset agenda with as much of their original DNA intact as possible.
Another main point of interest of mine is to design "Omicron" to be extremely transmissable.

After having successfully designed my Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley-inspired Frankenstein's Chimera, "Omicron" doesn't leak from my laboratory settings. No! I spread the sizzling-hot, gorgeous Promethean Flame. Lab leaks are for the reckless without a good cause.

Upon hearing that my arch nemesis, Herr Doktor Fauci, whom I've loathed since 1994, will be participating in a fake-science awards ceremony in South Africa in the near future, I get an accomplice to fly me to South Africa in his private jet.
During the flight, I lovingly caress the portable cooling box situated beside me, in which is stored my greatest design—the checkmate that will help topple the abomination: The One-Eyed Technocratic Tower of Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 Synthetic mRNA Genetic Therapeutic.

After landing in South Africa, I arrive at the outdoor fake-science awards ceremony with 1 minute to spare before it commences. I stand at the back of the crowd that surrounds the open-air dias upon which stands my arch nemesis with a gloating, malignant smile on his face.
While focused on Herr Doktor Fauci's rat-like face, I release my beloved creation, with a blown kiss, onto the swirling warm air of South Africa.

The atmosphere works divinely for the release of "Omicron" in South Africa. When news of my creation's arrival breaks, a main group of the world's population leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of "host variant spin-off", & another main group leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of lab leak, as the particular area of South Africa in question is sprinkled with biolabs that are involved in coronavirus research. Perfect.

Another variable leads many people away from the Least Trodden Path that meanders between the extremes of science & religion:
There are known "Omicron" variations in North America that pre-date my greatest design.

Via the use of my accomplice's private jet, I spread "Omicron BA.1" (that I dubbed, as: Omegatron 7.2) throughout the continents. I begin to spread some misinformation & disinformation on social media, such as,
"The Omicron variant is a hoax, a mythological cover (which it often is) for the adverse effects & events that are caused from the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections."

I don't own a white hat. I'm a red magician.

Practicing songs on my guitar
Before Sunday service strumming away
Getting it on the ole fashioned mode
For the old folks to hear,  to start their day.

Grandson Tony
Arrives with a grin
What now?
Thinking within.

Yellow pad note
Was coming near
Stuck on my forehead.
It was made clear.

Finished the song
The note was so near
Removed from said head
Said **"Bob was here"

Granddaughter Lucy wrote this just before bedtime this evening.
----------------------------
Dear God
Thank you for this day. Make sure that evrybuty is safe and has a good night and try not to let enebody sin. In God name we pray. Amen.
-----------------------
She gave it to me at bed time. She was asleep before I got it typed in. She Is a first grader.

Like a bird I breathed in time
from the star of an evening
filled with two shades of laughter.  
I wandered with an empty heart,
seeing faces
that frightened all the love
from the last time
those three little words
floated silently
into spaces
where nothing......
is sheltered.

Different images hold my head up
as if saying
all I ever wanted to be
can be found,
if I move my feet
instead of trying to tame all I look upon
and have become acquainted with.  
Nothing smiles at the shadows
left by my broken heart
here on the sidewalk of
“Never Again, I Said.”

Should I pour colored hope
over what could have been a breath of time
and watch the light of the evening star
return warmth
to a water-painted canvas of laughter
we both can hear?  
Allow my heart to be filled
with two shades of beauty
so those three little words
can float into spaces.......
held dear.