By Andrii Vodolazhskyi @ Shutterstock.com
On his blog, NoMoreFakeNews.com, Jon Rappoport interviews the SARS-CoV-2 virus (abridged):
I can’t recall jumping through more hoops in order to set up an interview.
There was a man on a train; his doctor in Greenwich; an NSA data analyst; a woman who almost certainly works for the CIA; her brother, who is a virologist; a Chinese Army officer who adopts a cover as a cook in a takeout joint in Venice, California; and several other people I won’t mention at all. I was filtered through them and wound up in a cheap motel room in Phoenix on a Saturday afternoon. An old air conditioner was chugging…
Who are you?
I’m SARS-CoV-2.
WHAT are you?
Talking history and evolution here. My first memories; a little more than a year ago. Poof. I was there. I decided I was an idea in the mind of God.
How did that work out?
I looked around for the mind of God, but I couldn’t find it. Nevertheless, I held on to the notion. I felt…elite. I floated through banquet halls, hotel suites. I visited upscale resorts.
Were you infecting people?
There are solid things; spaces between things; ideas like time, and so forth. I was definitely an idea, but I couldn’t trace my source, my inception.
Did you know how much publicity you were getting?
Of course. I had frequent meetings with scientists and PR people. I was fielding lots of information.
What kind of information?
There was a lot of talk about THEM creating ME.
What was your reaction?
I wasn’t buying it. I could see they THOUGHT they had made me. But so what? I intensified my search.
For what?
My origin Finally, it hit me. I was an idea inside a collective.
Not sure I understand.
I’m an idea sustained by a few billion minds. People’s minds.
What about your genetic sequence? The spike protein?
Believe me, I’ve looked. They aren’t there.
So we’re creating you.
That’s pretty much it. I should say completely it.
A hell of a thing.
You bet. Can you see my problem?
So people have to keep believing in you.
I want to live. I don’t want to vanish and END.
So people have to keep believing in you.
That’s it. If they stop, I’m gone.
Your handlers…
Oh, they’ve given up talking to me. I’m all by myself now.
As I drove out of the city, I saw a ghostly figure take shape out in the desert. It hung in the air over the scrub and the cactus.
Its voice whispered in my ear: “Publish our conversation.”
So that’s what I’m doing.
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