Tiw's Day Thing, 8/23/22

Premature Elation

(Edit: Thanks, Substack, for the hours-long blackout making me have to finish this at 10:30 so it would still be on Tuesday)

It’s fitting that this is being written on a Tuesday; Tiw being the Old English for Tyr, the handsome fellow depicted above holding Fenrir’s chain.

Tyr isn’t only a war god. He’s also the god of law and justice.

Quoting de Vries¹:

…there is no contradiction between the concepts ‘god of War’ and ‘god of Law.’ War is in fact not only the bloody mingling of combat, but no less a decision obtained between the two combatants and secured by precise rules of law.

From what you can see by the offerings I left Tyr today, I have a very specific sort of war in mind- a war of law and justice, exactly his bailiwick.

COVID biofascism dissenters everywhere have been celebrating since yesterday when Dr. Fauci announced his resignation in 6 months from NIAID.

I’m not sure I understand why. What, exactly, are we celebrating?

That the highest paid government employee in US history, out of about 4 million current federal workers (a number that by itself should be horrifying), is resigning with decades of blood on his hands to enjoy a pension and the soft yet durable gloss of the former wartime hero?

That he will almost certainly join the ranks of his previous colleagues from various public health agencies in the pipeline to the boards of directors of the multinational pharmaceutical companies that stole our liberty, our dignity, a hefty chunk of our children’s youth, our permanent health, and our lives?

That he will be further enriched by books and speaking engagements, possibly for the rest of his miserable years?

Why are we celebrating that a snake is slithering off into the dark after having poisoned us?

Has modern society fallen so far- have our wills become so worn down and flabby- that we consider merely being temporarily left alone by those who terrorized, bullied, and gaslit us as a good day?

Are we battered wives content to merely be left alone for a night, to catch our breath, before resuming the grinding years of unpredictable brutality, random demands, and emotional whiplash?

There has been- will be- a lot of this as The Powers That Be continue their realignment. Democratic mechanisms are still functioning sufficiently that it currently continues to matter, in some circles, what we think and feel about those who purport to lead us. The jerseys are switching, the narratives are turning inside out, the facts are scrambling to change. There are more people under buses than on them, and “reorganize ourselves to have even more direct, unelected authority while shuffling a few executives around like pedophile priests in their parishes” has become the new definition of “regain the trust of the public.”

Okay, you may never trust the CDC again no matter what they do, but that’s fine, because a couple of other agencies you’ve never heard of before (and never will again) will absorb their “science” responsibilities leaving them to focus on being a propaganda arm that you didn’t want in the first place and aren’t allowed to argue with.

When I started writing this substack, the series of essays I originally intended to lead with fairly early on was What I Learned From COVID-19. I may still actually get around to it, if I’m not constantly distracted by other more timely or momentarily exciting Big Ideas. All the mental work is basically done. So I’m basically just gonna give you 1/5th of it or however long that list was.

Anyway, #1 on that list relates to today’s thing. You Can Break.

I’ve been through some awful stuff. Most of us have- fuck it, let’s assume ALL of us have experienced at least one thing that was “awful.”

I’ve watched my dad almost die twice- on one occasion becoming covered almost head-to-toe in his blood.

I’ve been beaten badly enough to lose consciousness, evacuate my bowels, and have a concussion (not all on the same occasion).

I’ve had my life threatened several times with guns.

I have had two attempts to physically restrain and sexually assault me interrupted by sheer luck. (There will not be a third.)

I have seen some- but by no means all- of the worst things humans can do to children and have been powerless under the law to do anything about it, while on other occasions have had the job of at least temporarily but possibly permanently ruining the lives and families of people who didn’t deserve it because that was the way the political winds happened to be blowing for my employers at the time I was employed.

On all of those occasions, I’ve done all, some, or none of the following, depending on my age and circumstances:

1. Drink a bunch.

2. Sleep in the following day.

3. Cry a bunch.

4. Absolutely nothing.

On each occasion, though, I was fumbling my way through an experience of pain trying to minimize how much the moment sucked with catharsis or numbness, but always conscious of the fact that I would come out the other side because I’m still alive and it is provable fact that humans have endured <this thing> or worse and not died from the sheer misery of it.

Then we were locked down in New York City, with my job first gone and then a pathetic trickle of near nothing and my husband “working from home” which meant doing nearly nothing (just like all his other co-workers, some of whom drank all day), and a houseguest who was a (then) close friend whose soon-to-be ex-wife locked him out of his home with no possessions for “breaking quarantine” to hang out with me and “didn’t feel safe” with him returning to his home. The thing is, he was just as much of a Covidian as she was, he was just a complete hypocrite about his masking and distancing and gathering- “we aren’t perfect all the time but that doesn’t mean it’s all a lie or doesn’t work and anyway this is my bubble now” was a close approximation to something he said on one of our long walks around the block which eventually became the only things left to do, in which we would invariably end up fighting about COVID and I would learn that I was, in fact, brainwashed by right-wing forces that actually dominated all media and culture.

I had just begun to dip into dissenting communities, first through reddit from the extremely small selection of remotely relevant links not scolding me that came up when I searched for “how to fight lockdowns,” which led me to El Gato Malo (and, thankfully, away from reddit), and a whole other world of news and editorial sources. But by and large, it was just me, Husbandmouth, Brothermouth, and our boarder, our slowly dwindling bank account, slowly becoming fatasses from delivery Chinese and video games, with everyone around me either actively opposed to every single thing I believed or completely mentally checked out, depressed, and annoyed by me giving voice to what felt like In The Mouth Of Madness actually happening.

Then, one day- I forget, now, what specifically triggered his appearance or what the original point of his speech was- the little piece of shit we’ve gathered together to celebrate today was giving his oration from the balcony of his cathedral to some news outlet and announced, “our world will never be the same. We will never go back to normal. We will stop shaking hands and hugging people because we will know better.” And on and on, and I wish I could remember what the speech was about, or even the rest of it, but that was the day I learned that You Can Break.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t drink. I didn’t complain. I didn’t go pull the covers over my head and sleep until I forgot everything, or at least until it felt sufficiently like the past instead of the present.

I was in the kitchen of our now-former house, listening to the TV from the hall, and I just lay down on the floor, wearing (as I recall) just a bathrobe and underwear, and sort of half-curled up.

I just kind of stopped. I didn’t have specific plans to kill myself; I just intended to wait until I was dead, however that happened. “Intended” isn’t the right word- I just expected to be very still and eventually stop existing. I couldn’t even find the motor control to straighten my legs. There was no point to even the slightest, smallest thing, and if breathing wasn’t autonomic, I would have just quit.

At some point Husbandmouth wandered out of the bedroom- after how long, I have no idea- found me there and got me up. He wasn’t fully aware of what had transpired, and I don’t think we discussed exactly what I had been doing down there for quite some time.

I often think back, though, that if my house hadn’t been crawling with other residents, and my retirement from sentience hadn’t been interrupted, I would have been laying there until I expired, one way or another. I had fully quit without dying, somehow.

It was a profound experience of something that I did not imagine myself capable of, and were it not for the godlike proclamations of Doctor Fauci, I might never have learned.

You can break.

The next day we resolved to leave New York as soon as possible, which ended up being not actually all that soon, but a very busy period of escape.

Anyway. That fucking gnome telling me I would never have my life back, EVER- and some part of my brain believing it to be a statement of fact (because, up to that point, literally everything I had shouted “no!” at had happened anyway, and literally everything I had shouted “I refuse!” at had been done)- broke me, for the first and hopefully the very last time in my life.

Now remember that I’m not special or remarkable at all and that statistics tells us probably tens of millions of people had the exact same experience and a certain percentage of them DID actually check out. Or renegotiated their relationship with drugs and alcohol and were ruined.

Now remember all the people killed by AZT (even the sniveling pieces of shit at Snopes can’t give it a full Pinocchio, the lives ruined by AIDS misinformation, the animals horrifically tortured, the orphans experimented on and buried.

It CANNOT end here.

If you’re a lawyer or lawyer-adjacent or know someone who is, please consider joining other professionals in building meaningful lawsuits against him. Come here to raise money for your war chest and you’ll have no problem being amplified (by me or a dozen other writers with far more reach than me).

If you’re a healthcare professional HAVE THE FUCKING GUTS to voice disagreement when his name is reified by your colleagues- and have the knowledge to say why- and if you are within enough degrees of separation to have direct information about his corruption, his threatening, his silencing, his lies, have the courage to blow the whistle on one of the most evil men of his age.

If you’re a regular, practically powerless person like me, write Fauci a letter. Send it to him directly (I found this little totally unrelated gem from someone’s archives while looking up the address that is about to follow):

NIAID Office of Communications and Government Relations

5601 Fishers Lane, MSC 9806

Bethesda, MD 20892-9806 (deliveries: Rockville, MD 20852)

United States of America

…but also send at least one copy to a local or national newspaper, as the direct mail will likely be read by an intern and then shredded or just shredded unread because you’re nobody.

As midterms approach, let your legislator know that investigating and/or prosecuting Fauci and others responsible for crimes against us are a priority for you and, if elected, you expect them to vigorously pursue and support such efforts.

Don’t let him spend his remaining years imagining he will be remembered by most of us as a hero or as a god. Haunt the son of a bitch.

If you see him in public, I truly envy your opportunity. Let us speak no more of what people do in Minecraft.

And if you encounter any of the aforementioned groups- people working in the justice or healthcare system exposing the truth- give them your money and volunteer your time (and amplify them here in the forum and on other COVID substacks so we all know).

And on the day when Fauci finally meets his end- one way or another, one day or the next- I hope some of you will choose to join me when I visit his burial site, dance, and then piss on his grave. I am really, actually doing this, whenever the blessed day comes, and any and all who care to march under my banner are invited. We’ll feast after.

Today this is Fauci. But there are so many more, and so much further to go. Refuse the black pill. Don’t get drunk on unprovable promises of unseen, unfelt vengeance beyond the grave- these are the consolations of slaves, not free men and women with strength.

We are at war, and justice is our prize.

Tyr guide your hand.

1. Tyr - Norse Mythology for Smart People. https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/the-aesir-gods-and-goddesses/tyr/