Not On Accident

You now sound like a discount Masshole.

Good news everyone! My pureblood has spared me the onslaught of ( ( ( The D O O M – C O O F ) ) ) While I maintain that this is entirely because CoVid (in addition to being a trick) is entirely insufficiently dour to survive in my gruff, internal puritan-descended inner-earth, it might also be my generally superior constitution and/or careful adherence to eating reasonably well, not smoking and drinking if sporadically and then in moderation. Clearly, the Coof was engineered by Shylock to kill the sons of Cavaliers. We should really do something.

Anyway. It came about when the time for the Sax Doxworthy family reunion came around. Us being the only unvaccinated individuals in the clan means, quite naturally, that only everyone else who is theoretically immune to our potential Coofilingus is actually… able to… catch the… Coof which we do not have because…

Anyway. It’s best not to think too hard about it. That’s what big ZOG is banking on.

Now say it like a Yankee but wickid frickin haaahd, deah.

I took the stupid nasal test, even though I was hoping I’d get to spit at someone. But all that yah-yah got me thinking about something the wife was filling my ear with the other day. Stillborns. She was saying she had done a bunch of brain-bleed causing research. She had found claims saying stillborn rates had gone up some 28 times. Or something. Due to the shitstain they’re calling a vaccine.

Now, in my own general acquaintance with all this then I’ve read a number of things. One is reports in midterm miscarriages have spiked something like 300% according to some sources. Seaxwife’s contention, because she thinks science is pretty cool, is that she doubts the efficacy of the numbers do to reporting factors I don’t entirely comprehend. However, my own retort is that none of that matters. Any stillborn, any miscarriage that does not occur naturally deserves a kind of handling that I can never describe out loud or on paper. Suffice to say, my ancestors, being English, had many creative solutions involving math with a peculiar delight in dividing by four and carrying the ones. We had other clever methods of repaying debts which seem oh-so-glorious when considered idly, of course, as a means of passing the time.

I have seen stillborns. My niece was such a one. It is very difficult to maintain a belief in a beautiful universe after seeing something so innocent come so close to life, only to be snuffed in the moments before birth. I want you to consider this: SCIENCE as defined by the corporate establishment is willing to do this to your children to make those with not so much life left to live feel “SAFE.”

Now, this gets my goat because infertility, and by proxy miscarriage, is something I’m woefully familiar with. If you like, you can dick around in my archives and find out. I won’t rehash my recollections of counting bloodstains that could have been here. I don’t care for reliving that past.

I will say, anyone who lives with a spouse that has had, or still has primary or secondary infertility… There’s an unspoken membership club, unadvertised and popularly unmourned. It sucks, and you don’t want to join it. There’s a pain there that you cannot pretend to understand, if you haven’t felt it. There is a murderous, impotent rage. A seething loathing, not even so highbrow as hot hatred. It’s a cancer in the soul that can have no vent.

And it’s not natural. Not only is it unnatural, there are known causes- hidden in plain sight. Not only are there known causes, there are plenitudes of I’m sure hidden causes that rogue scientists have yet to uncover. The woman is herself a reflection of the Goddess. In the same way that the grave leads to the Barrow which is the womb that received our body and releases our soul, the Woman’s womb does the same: usher life through her gates into the world where before, that life was of another, we think lesser calibre entirely. Of course a woman is more than her genitive parts, she oozes Creation in other ways. But she is precious. She is both flesh, but also a coveted idea which men have bled for- and in their souls still wish to bleed for.

The very Nature of Woman had been assailed. In almost every way conceivable. She has been ripped from her throne, made a passive thing in her domecile, even there in what she still made her domestic church she found no safety. She was ripped from her home and made over in man’s image to work like a dog. This alone ground down her resources – stress harms progesterone. That’s not all, of course. Birth control, hormone disruptors, even the makeup, the cosmetics. The fibres of her clothes, the shampoo in her hair.

The world we live in, every thing, has become a weapon.

Of course, a wise woman can note that the inverse has happened to men. We have been chemically castrated. Our hormones brutalised. Our ethos maligned. We have been made walking jokes.

The punchline is that the most sublime expression of love we can have for each other, man and woman, has been offended against. By design.

Something my wife said stuck a barb in me. Either science is lying or the self-reporters are. My answer was simple: you gain nothing by lieing about stillbirths or miscarriages. It is an openly secret club that only the affected care about. If you’ve not tasted that pain, you don’t know it, don’t care. Why should you? I wouldn’t want you to know. Not even in my most violent fantasies would I wish that on even they who perpetrate it.

But if you do know that pain… You should know there are names. There are companies. There is big pharma. There is import economy. These have CEOs, and all kinds of despicable cronies. Of course, that’s the tip of an iceberg. Corporatism, industrialisation- all of which have names attached. Names you can find.

Someone is doing this to you. It’s not a fucking accident. It sure as shit isn’t normal. Normal is you know one person who struggles and gets there someday. But in my friend group I know no less than a dozen couples who have contemplated very dark things due to varying degrees of infertility. That’s more than half the couples in my median age group I know. Not normal.

I repeat: someone is doing this to you.

And… They’re going to keep on doing this do you.

They’re like the unstoppable force. We should by rights become the unstoppable object. If you have suffered, or know someone who has, stop it with the pretending. This isn’t a cosmic mystery. It’s got nothing to do with Iesvs Christos or Yahweh. Astrology doesn’t help. No. This is a flesh and blood and soil affront with causes and effects. That means there’s an end to it. It’s not a mystery.

We don’t have to live this way. It’s not satisfying. But we can throw away the plastics. We can make the house a church, and someday a temple. We can make changes to achieve sustainability. We can turn the tide. Small changes lead to large ones. When we have as members of a society gained enough self-sufficiency or community strength, we can begin to impose cost.

But we have to start getting off the tit. ZOG’s tit ends life. Any sustained change hurts the beast. Don’t think anything small isn’t worth it. Literally any positive change you make, is a negative charge the devil machine can’t make. Rack up the positive charges, choke the monster, starve it. I pray we all live long enough to see those charges rammed down the monster’s throat so hard they give Klaus Schwab an aneurysm so hard there’s no great resetting his heart. Him and all his ilk.

Be mad, not sad. And retvrn… To something approximating Tradition. Our Folkways are waiting to be rebuilt from the womb up.

ƿæs þū hāl.

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**Huhwhy the Hubert Farnsworth memes? Because the Zoomers treat me like a sage old man and routinely compare me to Grandpa Simpson. But I always thought Farnsworth was funnier.