Give us your huddled masses yearning to be vaccinated by Jon Rappoport

And once we receive the genetic RNA shot, and suffer the consequences, those who survive will be awarded the carrot, the immunity passport that might allow us to re-enter normal life.
What a deal.
We’re all immigrants, outsiders in our own country, faced with conditions we must fulfill, in order to be granted rights and privileges once again. So we can re-enter America.
Natural Liberty, Constitutional Liberty, gone.
Because this is a crisis, say the experts.
The evidence that exposes the crisis as a hoax? Ignored by news media, censored by social media.
The government/medical experts are supported by an army of uninformed, brainwashed, ignorant citizens who unthinkingly obey.
Even the Great Reset sociopaths weren’t sure the population would cave in and meekly go along with COVID restrictions. But apparently the huddled masses were in desperate need of earning their right to be proud of SOMETHING, ANYTHING, to justify their existence.
Lock down? Close a business? Go broke? Wear a mask? Keep a distance? Get tested? Take the shot? “We’ll do anything to show our loyalty to a higher cause.”
Soldiers under withering fire from the enemy, soldiers lying on top of their dead comrades in foxholes of mud, bleeding soldiers, soldiers rising up to make one last assault across open exposed land against the enemy’s position—a picture from the past. Now people are waiting for behavioral orders because they’re terrified of an invisible germ. That’s the modern measure of courage. They summon up all their strength to delete a message that contains information contradicting Anthony Fauci.
The Orange Man heaps praise on his Operation Warp Speed. The Gray Man wearing a mask who can’t find his way from the shower to his bedroom in the White House residence tells the population to take the RNA shot. They comply. They are thus heroes. They do the right thing. They use the deadly weapons of Twitter and FB to rain fire down on anti-vaxxer troops.
Many people make the brave sacrifice of working from home. In their living rooms, they brave the mustard gas of interrupting pets and nagging children. Someone rings the doorbell. Is it a secret agent working for Dr. Mercola or Robert Kennedy, holding a lethal tract of misinformation about the spike protein? Would brains be captured and absorbed if they were exposed to a paragraph of subversive text?
Tucker Carlson, who dares to raise questions about the vaccine, must be deplatformed, even though the effort will make the assault on Iwo Jima seem like a Sunday picnic by comparison. Capture his hill, men. Take off your gloves and fight your way through to Instagram. Iwo, Normandy, Heartbreak Ridge, Tucker. Perhaps you weren’t raised for this war, perhaps your parents never conceived life could turn out like this, but now you have to take destiny in your own hands and mouse and click your way to glory.
Once there were the seafaring Vikings. Now there is a slender man in a suit with a perfectly trimmed beard who shows up on your television screen saying: “Hi. I work in Human Resources for a major corporation. You know, hiring the right people for the right jobs can be OVERWHELMING. Well, it was, until I connected with FlickWit, the online job search firm. Within hours, they send me resumes of precisely qualified candidates. My work day is now a joy…”
Thank God for that. Who raised him? Who wiped his nose every time he turned around? A doting mother who gave him a trophy for eating his peas?
“Now you listen to me, young man. If you’re going to play soccer, you wear that helmet. And don’t look at the girls in the stands. It could be interpreted as a sign of abuse. After practice, I’m taking you to the Hands Across the World Community Center to get the vaccine. You can have your choice. The Pfizer or the Moderna. It’ll make you a champion. Then we’ll talk to the doctor about puberty blockers.”

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