Missiles & Syringes

I used to think well of the Americans.

I’ve had this up my sleeve for quite a while, I thought it would be easy to write, but every time I sat down to write it, I didn’t know quite what to say. What’s the point I’m trying to make?

I guess it’s that: I only ever used to have good things to say about the Americans. The old me that is. The pre GMC me.

I first wrote about my time in Iraq in Is this a War?

I lived in Iraq between 1981 to 1991, a period that covered almost all of the Iraq/Iran War and all of the Gulf War, the original, not the sequels.

It was an old school type of war, with two parties fighting over territory and trying to redraw a border. A lot of people died over 8 years and the border stayed the same. But weapons were sold, and internal power was consolidated.

That’s really what war is about, territory. You have something that I want, and I will fight you for it.

And when we started using children as human shields for terrified baby boomers, I wrote this about my father’s family’s experience as human shields at Amiriyah, Public Shelter no. 25

"Vaccinated" children as human shields: A Saddam Hussein Story

But I’ve had this other thought rattling around in my head for some time.

But first let me tell you another Iraqi story, one I wrote many years ago (2005 I think) for my kids, so I wouldn’t forget, and they would have some connection to a fast-fading past:

It’s raining missiles

It was meant to be the last night of the war.

After almost three months there was real hope that we had made it through. We lived next door to a large military factory. The Iranians had tried to bomb it towards the end of that war in 1988 and missed five times. They had used old Russian technology surface to surface missiles. Where they landed depended on how the wind was blowing that day. And the Iranians knew that, but still sent five of them across even though the civilian compound we lived in was right next door.

The five “scuds” all missed the factory and landed harmlessly into the surrounding countryside. But they did not miss us by much either.

I remember running up to the roof of the house with my Kodak camera after yet another miss and taking pictures of the dust plume in the distance where the scud had landed. I was terrified that someone would see me. It was most definitely an unspoken rule that you do NOT photograph ANYTHING relating to the military or the war.

Anyway…back to the Americans

April 1991…

…8 pm on a beautiful, cool, and clear Iraqi night. My father and I were out for a quiet walk together.

Not long into it we started to hear rumblings in the distance. It sounded like an aircraft was flying overhead extremely far away. We both agreed it would be a good idea to go home, so we started walking back briskly. We were halfway there when the first strike hit.

The first thing you hear just before a Cruise missile hits is a low shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, the sound people make to shut you up during a movie, except longer and with far less emotion.

Except this missile wants to silence you for good.

As it gets closer its signature sound rapidly gets louder and then you “feel” the missile going over you in an instant before slamming into its target. We were by now running home. We almost fell over as the ground shook with the first strike hitting its target. There were people everywhere racing to their homes.

We made it inside and the first thing I did was to get everyone, my father, mother, and sister, away from the windows. Like deer in headlights, they could not resist the temptation of looking out the window even though there was nothing to see besides our neighbours’ houses. I had images of shattered glass shredding their faces. Thankfully, I succeeded before the second one hit.

When the second one hit the windows in the whole house flew open…

Early on we had expected the Americans to want to bomb the factory. In truth I had been surprised they had not done it sooner. It obviously was not considered a high priority. Someone had told me to unlock all the windows in the house because when a bomb lands the pressure in the area will normally shatter all your windows. And so, I had unlocked every window in the house but kept them shut using packaging tape.  As the second Cruise missile struck, I noticed how well this strategy had worked. All the windows had magically flung open but not one had shattered. I found out in the morning that many of my friends’ houses had suffered plenty of glass damage. I remember feeling quite chuffed with myself.

We were safely inside or at least everyone else felt safe inside, I had always felt that houses were a bit of a liability when it came to bombs raining down on you. What was the point of hiding inside a concrete death trap when it could all come crumbling down on you any minute? I personally would have preferred just sitting outside in the garden (but I was not brave enough to do that either). So, there I was inside scorning everyone for the idiocy of being inside while I did exactly that!

We waited for the 3rd missile to land. The minutes passed by. 5, 10, 20…

Nothing happened…

An hour passed, nothing still. By now we really did think that it was over and that we had survived.

As 10pm came around, we heard the distant rumblings of an aeroplane again. I would later understand that it was a jet circling above beyond the reach of Saddam’s primitive anti-aircraft guns. The pilot would guide the cruise missile in the final phase of its journey by “lighting” up the target with a laser. The missile would pick up on the rebounding laser and follow it down to the target.

We heard the plane and knew that more were coming. And surely, they did. Two more. Same sound. Same thunder. Same house shaking all over. Same windows flying open again.

Same fear…same relief at being alive.

And then it was quiet again. I went around shutting the windows.

Time passed quietly along until we all went to bed around 11pm. I could not sleep (for obvious reasons) so I put on my little kerosene lamp (remember we had not had electricity for almost 3 months) and perched it ever so carefully on my bed head (not such a clever idea in hindsight) and started reading my book. It was years later that the irony of the title really sunk in.

The Hunt for Red October by…Tom Clancy. How very fitting!

Around 12am, two more missiles.

I went to sleep shortly after only to be woken up around 2pm with another two missiles. By now they were merely a nuisance that we had become accustomed to. Like a neighbour’s barking dog. And so, I simply cursed someone and quickly fell asleep not to be woken again for the rest of the night.

In the morning I woke up thinking that I (we) had made it. Everyone and everything were in one piece (except for all the open windows). I was half expecting to wake up surrounded by concrete rubble and screaming.

It was a beautiful clear morning. I put on my clothes and went straight out, walking towards the factory end of the village. There were a few people walking about, no one I really knew. As I got closer, I could see houses with shattered windows. As I got to the perimeter fence, I saw the factory. Two of the three huge warehouse-like buildings had been flattened. The one in the middle was perfectly intact.

I would later find out for my football playing Egyptian buddies (that worked in the factory) that the middle one was perfectly empty!

How the hell did the Americans know that? WOW!

I sort of realised it the previous evening but had the feeling confirmed to me in the morning that I was alive primarily because of American precision bombing!

What was the point of denying it? They only wanted to bomb the factory and they did NOT want to bomb anything else (especially the civilians). How could I not feel gratitude? I am positive that others felt the same way without voicing it.

The Gulf War is a genuinely complex subject, and I don’t think my thoughts on that complexity really matter to the point I’m trying to make in this piece.

So, let me keep it as simple as possible, as selfish as possible. Two points.

Point One:

I am alive because the American’s cared about civilian casualties. I believe they got tricked into bombing the Amiriyah Public Shelter, nothing about the fact pattern of their behaviour during the whole of the Gulf War suggested that they were anything but extremely careful about minimising civilian casualties. I, and my family, are living testament to that point.

Point Two:

I am here is Australia since Dec 1992, because the Americans decided to muster up a posse and go and kick Saddam out of Kuwait. Whatever anyone might think about the motives behind the war. Saddam surrendered after 3 months of largely aerial battering and signed a treaty, that, I believe, among other things, opened the borders almost immediately after the end of the war in April 1991 (they had been shut since 1985, you couldn’t leave). My mother and sister left for Jordan in late July, and I followed in early August 1991, just before my 22nd birthday. My father had to stay behind and left about 7 years later.

So, to recap, the Americans decide to go to war, with boots on the ground, to remove a madman from another country, and in doing that they decide to keep civilian casualties to an absolute minimum, and get Iraq opened up again…and now I’m here, 32 years later, writing a Substack,  married with two adult kids in Sydney, Australia.

Why would I ever have had a bad thing to say about the Americans?

As far as I was concerned, they were the good guys.

Then the GMC happened.

The only thing that I knew in March 2020, was that what was happening was wrong. That stopping the world was wrong, that it was theft, and that theft was wrong. Well, today, in December 2022, I know a bit more than that.

Of what I know, three things stand out.

First:

The GMC is a joint operation.

Well, I’m using “know” in the most probabilistic way possible. I don’t know know, I wasn’t in the room, but everything, and I mean everything is pointing to the fact that both gorillas are in on it. I don’t think this is a Chinese operation with American capital acting as a useful idiot. And I don’t think this is an American operation with the Chinese making the most of a bad situation sprung on them.

No, I think it’s a Joint Venture. In July I wrote this:

So, putting aside “accident” as a primary explanation for the last 2.5 years, I’m left with NOT AN ACCIDENT and three thoughts.

One:

that it’s primarily a US operation, with China as a junior partner and beneficiary. The longer this story plays out, the less likely this seems to me. Although there are plenty of US parts to this story, such as Kennedy Jr. revealed, the CIA was the ONLY agency at EVERY single pandemic preparedness exercise over the last 20 years.

Two:

that it’s primarily a Chinese operation, with plenty of networked beneficiaries, many of them US. At its core I think this is the Senger and Wolf thesis. And they make a very convincing case and I’ve scored the probability at better than 50/50. One issue I have with this thesis is that it’s just a bit too neat, it makes a bit too much “sense”, that’s a bit of a red flag, I think.

Three:

that this whole thing is a US and Chinese joint venture. I’ve only heard one person put this thesis forward almost one year ago, and that was Dr. David Martin.

It goes something like this in my mind (part Martin outline and part my thoughts):

The two big gorillas know there is no winner, that both need to exist but that both “need” each other to be the “enemy”. The global financial system was near collapse, especially after a decade of patchwork and global money printing post GFC, and to stave off a global economic collapse, they BOTH agreed to bring on the “pandemic”, create the pretext for one last round of major printing, and both agree to “break” the world and jointly rebuild it in a manner that suits both parties with greater control over all populations and all governments, bring in a new global digital currency that is the foundation of the new digitised control system, and basically jointly share in the spoils of this new creation.

So, six months later, has more evidence emerged for thesis 1, 2 or 3?

Certainly, if you follow Couey’s work, it looks like a US operation, but I’m still putting my money on 3.

But the point here isn’t which number it is, but that it’s clear that the US is involved, one way or another, either as the primary project lead, or as an equal partner in a global knock-down and rebuild job.

And there is my problem; I thought they were the good guys.

Second:

Having started the GMC, someone then turned up at my doorstep (metaphorically) and said that we all “needed” to be injected with an unknown chemical cocktail, that had, for the first-time genetic matter in it, that would get all our bodies producing a cytotoxic antigen for an unspecified period of time. Otherwise, we couldn’t get a haircut, work or leave the country…

What the fuck?!

In May 2022 I wrote this, about the metaphorical knock on the door:

If you live in NSW, Australia (although these bouncing balls apply to any jurisdiction):

1.    Brad Hazzard – NSW Health Minister used Kerry Chant as cover to sign a long list of Public Health Orders that bullied you and your employers into coercing you into getting injected.

2.    Kerry Chant – NSW Public Health Officer got her “guidance/instructions” and “The Science” from Greg Hunt and the Federal Government and its agencies

3.    Greg Hunt Federal Minister for Health got his “advice” from Paul Kelly

4.    Paul Kelly – Federal Chief Medical Officer got his “The Science” and guidance from the WHO

5.    WHO sings to the tune of GAVI The Vaccine Alliance (WHO is a captured organisation)

6.    GAVI was set up by Gates and sings to his tune

So, Gates is a primary architect of whatever happened to you under the NSW Public Health orders that governed (and continue to) you and your family’s life over the last 2+ years.

So, it was American aggregated and coordinated capital, acting in unison with American government (NIH, NIAID, FDA to name just a few of the lettered agencies), that got Brad Hazzard to sign a 4 page letter (the first public health order) that ultimately led to the knock on the door.

Again, I thought they were the good guys.

With all this going on, I was left with a lingering question.

What else have they lied to me about?

So, considering that I had fallen into the rabbit hole, I decided to meander around down there and see what else I could find, in what turned out to be a warren.

Well, it turns out I was lied to about (to name just a few that come to mind):

Smallpox

Polio

AIDS

1976 Swine Flu

Zika

Vit K

HPV vaccine

SIDS

Autism

Childhood vaccination

The Climate

That will do for now.

So, pretty much everything.

What is the common thread between ALL the stories.

Is it the Chinese? Nope.

You guessed it, it’s the Americans.

What the hell is going on; I thought they were the good guys.

Third:

Having discovered that I was lied to about childhood vaccination, it dawned on me that because of that lie I had injected my kids with 20+ (40+ if we were doing it now) doses of antigen and chemical stew that gave them all manner of problems that shaped their childhood and our parenting story.

Here is the list for one of our kids, I’m pretty sure there are a few vaccines missing:

Virtually every one of those vials, was an American patent and manufacture, delivered by a medical industrial complex that is wholly American.

For the last time, I thought they were the good guys.

I thought wrong.

American missiles freed me to poison my kids with American syringes.

Why they are the way they are doesn’t really matter. They just are.

And what they are, is not the good guys.

It turns out there are no good guys.

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