The Covid Anomaly

I was in a recent discussion with a shrew friend about covid and the fact that we shrews can’t seem to let it go, whereas sheep have long forgotten the incident and all that it entailed. “Why is that?” he asked.

Good question. Why is it that we can’t forget it, nor even want to forget, as it represents “unfinished business” to us, and sheep have no problem at all letting it vaporize in their memory?

One of the primary differences between how sheepies see covid and how we, shrews, see covid is that the sheep see it as an anomaly, an aberration in an otherwise rather stable world. It was/is the nail that was sticking up. Maybe it was something that was a result of basic “bad things” in the culture, like climate warming, world pollution, poverty, and, of course, Trump. But fundamentally, to them, it is a one-time event, something that our wonderful government will do what they can to prevent from happening again.

The shrews view covid as a harbinger of future developments. We perceive it as an event deliberately engineered by a hidden agenda to advance various objectives that serve its interests. This agenda continues to extract benefits from the event, including the rollout of digital IDs, widespread vaccination campaigns for numerous ailments, increased censorship, a cashless society, travel restrictions, 15-minute smart cities, and many other measures. Covid has laid the groundwork for most of these initiatives—not fully implementing all of them, but certainly establishing a foundational substrate. We also anticipate more of the same: outbreaks of rampant “viruses” that will demand greater compliance from ordinary citizens in order to supposedly save their own lives and those of humanity as a whole.

Why is this important? It isn’t. Really. But it is good to see what is behind some of the craziness we are experiencing. Sure, this is pretty much a no-brainer. But honestly, my brain didn’t think of it until recently. It just all seemed too obvious to me that covid was not just a bump on the log of ordinary, up-and-down, life. It was a big deal to me, and it seemed very obvious that it, in fact, was a big deal to everyone. I think during covid the sheepsters were terrified and thought it was the coming of Quetzalcoatl, and because of it, every living creature would be dead within a few years.

Once things calmed down, though, they promptly forgot about their fear during the scourge and did their best to return to “normal” as their mommy and daddy government told them to. “There is no longer a monster under the bed, little Johnny. We took care of it.” So, with a shrug of a shoulder, they all moved on.

As for us? We’re shouting from the rooftops, “Did you see that?? Did you just see what these lunatics have done??” This wasn’t some stray raccoon trapped under the bed for a few hours, only to be chased out with a broom and forgotten, as if peace had never really been disturbed. No, this was a monumental agenda-driven catastrophe. Not only did it claim untold thousands—perhaps millions—of lives, but it also shattered the world in ways from which recovery seems impossible. (My wife just shelled out $31 for a simple salad at lunch. Can you say, “supply chain disruption”?)

Shrews all believed covid was just the beginning, and still do. It was the trailblazer necessary to bring in all the other crap they are planning. Without covid, it would have been a bit more difficult. Now it will be as easy as the proverbial “you know what” through a goose. And that is just what it will be, “you know what.” The crap they have planned is unconscionable. And the sheepies have no clue. They are too busy trying to pull Trump down from his illusory throne. Too distracted to notice the bloodsucking leeches clinging to their belly.

The sheepster’s brain is wired for comfort, not continuity. Anomalies are glitches in the matrix, not plot points in a larger script. To them, covid was a freak storm that blew through, knocked over a few trees, and then vanished, leaving insurance adjusters and government handouts to mop up. They’ll nod politely if you mention excess deaths, but their eyes glaze over at the mention of Event 201 or the SPARS Pandemic Scenario from 2017—those dusty dress rehearsals that look eerily like the real show. “Coincidence,” they bleat. “Bad luck.” Anything to avoid connecting the dots into a noose.

We shrews, on the other hand, are cursed with pattern recognition. We see the same actors recycling the same playbook: fear porn, media blitz, emergency powers, experimental jabs, rinse, repeat. Covid wasn’t the main course; it was the appetizer, the proof-of-concept that billions would line up for a shot, scan a QR code to enter a café, and snitch on their neighbours for coughing too loudly. It was the global stress test, and humanity flunked with flying colours. The next “variant”—be it Marburg, Nipah, or some lab-grown Frankenstein—will find the infrastructure already in place: vaccine passports morphing into carbon wallets, contact-tracing apps baked into your phone, and a population pre-conditioned to obey the flashing red banner on their screen.

And the beauty of it, from the agenda’s perspective, is how the sheepies self-police. Remember the Karens screaming at maskless heretics in grocery aisles? That wasn’t top-down enforcement; that was grassroots tyranny, neighbour devouring neighbour under the guise of “public health.” The controllers barely had to lift a finger. They just seeded the fear, and the herd did the rest. Now imagine that same dynamic applied to climate lockdowns: “Sorry, your social-credit score says you’ve exceeded your meat allowance this month.” The sheepers will cheer as the unwashed are fined into submission, all while munching their bug-protein patties and praising the wisdom of Saint Greta.

Psychologically, this anomaly mindset is a survival mechanism. Admitting covid was orchestrated would force the normies to confront the abyss: that their trusted institutions lied, that their doctors poisoned them, that their governments rehearsed the whole damn thing years in advance. Cognitive dissonance on that scale is lethal to the ego. Better to file it under “weird blip.” We shrews don’t have that luxury. Once you swallow the red pill, the blue ones taste like chalk. We’re stuck cataloging the wreckage, connecting timelines, and sounding alarms that fall on deaf ears.

Take the economic fallout. That $31 salad isn’t just inflation; it’s the ghost of supply-chain sabotage, of farmers bankrupted by “avian flu” culls, of ports clogged by “public health” theatre. Or the health carnage: turbo-cancers in the injected, sudden adult deaths at soccer games, fertility rates in freefall. Anomalies, all of them, say the experts. Move along. Nothing to see here except your regularly scheduled programming.

And here’s the kicker: the agenda doesn’t need another full-blown plandemic to tighten the screws. They’ve got the template. A suspicious outbreak here, a “climate emergency” there, a dash of AI-generated deepfake chaos—boom, emergency powers renewed, dissent criminalized, and normies applauding their own shackles. The beauty in this madness is in the incrementalism. No grand announcement, just death by a thousand cuts, each one framed as “temporary” until it calcifies into permanence.

So yeah, we can’t let it go. Not because we’re stuck in the past, but because the past is prologue, and the next act is already in rehearsal. The sheep graze contentedly in their pastures, bellies full of GMO hay and propaganda pellets. We shrews sharpen our teeth on the bars of the enclosure, eyes fixed on the horizon where the next storm gathers. Call it unfinished business. Call it vigilance. Just don’t call it over.