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Like many millions of others, it came my time to get COVID.
It happened to me before Christmas. It was less than a week after a great night dining out with Gerald Celente in Kingston. I thank God I wasn’t feeling or showing any signs of sickness at that point.
But who knows? Gerald is one tough dude. He may well have already gotten COVID and shook it off with a sneeze or two. He’s an amazing guy.
Anyway. My son, home from college, was a bit stuffed up one morning. Then we learned his girlfriend, a very sweet girl, who was vaccinated, had tested positive for COVID.
No one in our family, including my significant other Amy, nor our two children, had received any COVID vaccine.
My own reasons were based on what I knew, and much that I had written surrounding COVID.
Primarily, I judged that there was no way I would be taking an experimental gene-level “cure” from the same scientists that had literally funded and created the virus.
I never believed the bat soup story. Not for one second. The day I learned COVID occurred within spitting distance of a level IV virology lab in Wuhan, that’s all I needed to know about the man-made origins of the virus.
As far as whether COVID was real or something made up, that was a bit more complicated. I believed it was real, and news of elderly people here in NY dying in droves in nursing homes, confirmed for me that COVID was at least something akin to a very bad flu.
I had personal experience in 2021 with several friends and family members diagnosed with COVID who experienced some of the odd symptoms, including complete loss of smell, chronic headaches, etc.
An Incident With My Brother
And then one night this past summer my sister-in-law called me. She said my brother George had gotten COVID. Close to 60, and 2 days less than a year older than me (yes, my Irish twin!) my stoic brother hadn’t revealed to anyone what he was battling.
He had apparently gotten over the worst phase, during which he dropped a good thirty pounds. George is a big boned man, and had been overweight during latter years, but he had lost a significant amount of weight a few years before this. So he was not anything like morbidly obese.
But according to my sister-in-law, George was now suffering mental effects from COVID that were making him paranoid. I frankly didn’t believe it, and thought the two must have just been arguing about something.
I asked to speak to my brother.
“They’re all COVID crazy,” George said to me when he got on the phone. “They want to put me in the hospital. They all got the vax! I told them, I’m fine, I’m not going to the hospital.”
“Okay buddy, do you need to maybe just get away, and spend a night or two at my place?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “That sounds good.”
George and his wife live about 45 minutes away from me. We decided to meet in Poughkeepsie. George’s wife drove him, and she called me as I was on the road.
“Joe, he just tried to grab the steering wheel. He thinks I’m driving too fast. I’m driving literally 20 miles an hour, but he won’t let me drive.”
I asked her to put my brother on the phone.
“George, what’s up?”
“She’s driving dangerous. She’s trying to get us killed. Honey, slow down,” I could hear him warn my sister-in-law.
It happened to be raining pretty hard. But still, I knew my sister-in-law was a very responsible person who would not be barreling along, especially given my brother’s apparent nervousness.
George actually made her pull over. I talked to him, and convinced him to let her get back on the road. I told him I’d stay on the phone with him.
I tried to engage him in a little small talk about baseball, knowing he’s always been a big Mets fan.
“Honey, slow down. Just keep your eyes on the road. Slow.”
“George, I’m driving fifteen miles an hour.”
“Just slow down. You’re going to get in an accident.”
It was very weird. It was like my brother couldn’t break away from obsessing about getting in an accident, and going too fast, though it was obvious to me at this point that his wife was literally crawling along Route 9W.
They eventually got to the meet-up spot in Poughkeepsie where I was waiting, which happened to be just across the way from Saint Francis Hospital.
“George, I gotta tell you. You don’t sound quite yourself,” I told him, as we stood in the parking lot in the rain.
“Don’t tell me my own brother is COVID crazy too,” he shook his head, and I felt horrible. But I also knew the man wasn’t behaving rationally. He said some other odd things, including getting names of places wrong. It just wasn’t like him.
Overall, he was markedly more talkative than usual, defensive and strangely derogatory toward everyone, suspicious, but also acidly quick-witted in a manner that was very unlike him.
“Buddy, I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t love you and want the best for you, but you don’t seem quite yourself. Do you think it might be a good idea to maybe go to Saint Francis and have them check you out?”
George ended up letting us take him to the emergency room at Saint Francis. He was admitted, and doctors ended up determining he was experiencing COVID related brain inflammation. He was given medication for it, and after a few days he was back home and doing better.
Talking to him, I could tell immediately this was the “old George,” affable, not paranoid, nor exhibiting the strange talk that he had that night.
I told Gerald at the time about what I observed with my brother.
“COVID is definitely some strange malady,” I remarked. “This whole thing is crazy, because the world is between a rock and a hard place. This virus is real. But this gene-level shit they’re trying to get everyone to take is bad news.”
Armed With Info Gathered From Reporting
Writing for the Trends Journal, I had a very good pulse on the virus, the vaccines, what front-line physicians like Doctor Zelenko over in Orange County, not far from where I lived, were recommending, etc.
When I first bought some boxes of “Horse Ivermectin” from Amazon, they were five dollars each. They went up to 25. Then 80 dollars for two boxes. By November, the U.S. Postal service was working with authorities to intercept packages and stop people from getting any.
I had already seen NAC (N-Acetyl-Cysteine), a supplement I used pretty routinely to reduce phlegm, which I’m prone to, banned from sale at places like Amazon.
Apparently, people had learned that NAC helps with congestion brought on by COVID.
I quickly sourced NAC elsewhere, and bought a supply. Again, what had been a six dollar supplement was now selling for over 20 dollars a bottle.
Between hydroxychloroquine, Ivermectin, NAC and even aspirin, the discounting of vitamins C and D, and the insistence by many medical professionals that antibiotics should not be used in the treatment of COVID, it was clear to me there was something truly evil going on with the medical establishment in concert with governmental authorities.
Even if Ivermectin or hydroxychloroquine were not believed to have any special benefit in treating COVID, during all of 2020 and a good portion of early 2021, there were no vaccines even available to people.
Why were these drugs being suppressed and lied about?
They had been used routinely by millions of people for maladies like malaria, lupus, and getting rid of parasites, and were completely uncontroversial and proven safe. “Right to Try,” for patients, and the right of doctors to prescribe “off-label” uses of such drugs, should have prevailed.
Instead, there were vicious propaganda wars being waged against the drugs, and any doctors advocating their use.
The antibiotics angle regarding COVID was just as bizarre. In February 2021 I wrote the Trends Journal story “BACTERIAL PNEUMONIA & COVID: WHAT THE CDC SAYS.”
The facts were straightforward. Whenever viral pneumonia is present, there’s a good statistical chance it can turn into bacterial pneumonia. And treatment with antibiotics is standard treatment for bacterial pneumonia.
In other words, utilizing antibiotics for COVID treatment, as Doctor Zelenko and others were advocating, made complete sense.
Why were doctors waiting until people were congested and dying, and then putting them on ventilators? Why weren’t people being treated in a timely way with antibiotics for pneumonia?
I myself have always been prone to lung related ailments, including bronchitis and walking pneumonia, which I had both as a child and an adult (once in the middle of summer, which was particularly miserable).
I vowed that if I did contract COVID, I would make sure I was prescribed Augmentin, an antibiotic I knew worked for me in combating past bouts with lung infections.
COVID On Christmas
So, it was getting close to Christmas. I had just finished putting together a holiday-themed cartoon project called The Fiddle Faddles Christmas Special. I’d created it as a sort of retro-style feel good story, about an elderly couple who find out their kids won’t be home for the holidays.
I was especially delighted that Gerald took a cameo role in the video.
A few days after showing the final video to some friends and voice actors who had contributed to the project, my son was sniffling. He’s of notably good constitution, and it takes a lot to set him down.
Whatever he had was just a minor inconvenience to him. But then we learned the news about his girlfriend receiving a positive COVID test. And sure enough, within a few days, I was feeling fatigued, and so was Amy, my significant other.
At first, symptoms seemed manageable enough. I even laughed when I discovered that yep, my sense of smell (and taste) were going rapidly. One morning, I could barely smell the scent of cinnamon, which I liked to put in my cereal. The next day, I couldn’t smell any scent from the cinnamon bottle, or anything else at all.
The next two weeks were progressively worse on every physical front. If this was the mild Omicron, I could only thank God that He had kept me from contracting Delta.
I was feverish, with temperature spikes to 103. Doses of ibuprofen barely kept it under control. I of course pulled out a box of that Ivermectin I’d purchased before the suppressions and bans.
Nothing I say here constitutes medical advice, of course. I’m simply conveying what I chose to do for myself.
After 10 days, I was definitely not doing better. Neither was Amy. We made a call to urgent care.
Assuming the call was basically like a tele-visit with a doctor, I related my basic situation and symptoms, as well as my history of susceptibility to lung ailments.
“I think I just need some Augmentin, which works well for me when I have pneumonia, which I know I have,” I told the doctor.
“Well, I’m not prescribing Augmentin for you,” he replied. There was a smugness in the way he said it that ticked me off.
“Why not?” I questioned.
“Because that’s not a treatment for COVID,” he answered.
“So what am I supposed to do? Wait until I’m ready to be put on a ventilator?” I felt my blood boiling.
“You have a nice night,” by God as my witness the man seemed to be making a special effort to convey: well you opted not to get vaccinated, it serves you right.
“Fuck off,” I said to him, before he hung up.
Amy let me know I’d probably not done myself any good with that one.
The next morning, she decided to go to Urgent Care in person. I told her I would see what they did in her case, before I went.
She returned more than six hours after having left. She had to literally stand out in the rain for forty minutes in a line along with other sick people, in temps just above freezing, just to get on a list to be seen.
Why the hell couldn’t these people have been allowed to wait in a hallway of the place?
After getting placed on the list, she was sent back to her car to wait hours in the parking lot, before being called in.
Thankfully, after a positive COVID test and an X-ray of her lungs, she was prescribed two antibiotics. Including Augmentin.
The next morning, it was my turn to go in person to Urgent Care. I was on line at around 8 in the morning. Barely able to stand, congested and short of breath, I leaned against a cold wall.
There was nothing to do except stand there for thirty minutes, before being queried by a nurse and put on the day’s list, and sent to go wait in my car.
When I was examined for a scant two hours later, the presiding doctor told me my lungs sounded clear.
“I’d like an x-ray,” I answered. “My partner has pneumonia, and I’m sure something’s going on with me.”
After the x-ray, the doctor returned. “The x-ray does show pneumonia developing.”
From there, it was thankfully no issue getting Augmentin and a second antibiotic, as well as a steroid to treat inflammation. I also tested positive for COVID, and negative for the flu.
Slow Road Toward Recovery
Christmas was gone, and New Year’s was too. I was six or seven days into treatment, and still utterly fatigued, aching, experiencing fevers and chills, waking up soaked with night sweats, and so on.
Unlike my son, my constitution has never been what anyone would call super robust. From a young age, I’ve always tried to compensate by eating healthy, and trying my best to stay in shape.
Amy, who my son takes after as far as general constitution, seemed a little further along, but she was by no means out of the woods either.
Odd symptoms were manifesting for both of us. In my case, my eyes were not focusing normally, and were very sensitive to light. I was also experiencing headaches virtually every morning by 4 am, and I’ve never been prone to headaches.
The hiatus from contributing to the Trends Journal was almost over, since the magazine was scheduled to go out again after the holiday break.
Gerald, as he always is, was incredibly solicitous the whole way, offering help in any manner he could. He let us know that if we weren’t up to trying to get the magazine out, it would just have to wait.
We told him we thought we could get through a gameday, and thankfully we did.
At this point, as I sit here writing this (overlong!) missive on 20 January, I’m finally feeling close to okay. I’m extremely deconditioned. But my lungs are clear. The headaches have abated. Smell and taste have returned. Eyes are still sensitive.
Along the way, there was another course of “horse” Ivermectin, which I believe greatly helped and felt the effects of, after only a day or two. There was also plenty of garlic, vitamins C and D, Quercetin with Zinc supplements, Oil of Oregano, raw onion sandwiches, and anything else I could think of to throw at this thing.
Amy, who has a much harder time remaining idle than I do (I can lay on a couch and watch favorite Rifftrax or MST3K episodes ad nauseum), has actually been battling through some relapse fatigue. Leg aches, heaviness in her chest, and other persisting symptoms haven’t been pleasant. But she too seems to be over the worst hump of COVID.
To anyone who believes COVID is made up, has never been uniquely sequenced, etc., all I can say is that from experience with others, and via my own experience, I know that this ailment includes symptoms that are unlike anything I’ve previously heard of, or ever had with any flu or bout of bronchitis or pneumonia.
To me, it just confirmed that COVID is unfortunately a very real phenomenon, and can hit people who are of a certain age or certain constitution very hard.
The good news is that pretty standard treatments and supplements can make a difference, as front-line doctors of integrity know and continue to proclaim.
The fact that getting some of those treatments has been so difficult and complicated by frankly evil agendas of batshit crazy technocratic elites (see my touchstone article from May 2021 “BATSH*T CRAZY: WUHAN WALLS CLOSING IN AROUND FAUCI”), unbound genetic experimenters, and pandemic profiteers, represents a low point in the annals of human history. And that’s saying something.
As far as the experimental vaccines? The huge numbers of serious adverse effects have been noted consistently in the Trends Journal. Even on Twitter, many thousands of people are expressing regrets about taking the vaccines, as reported recently by dailyveracity.com.
Thanks To A Man Made For These Times
Also heartening is the fact that many people around the world have woken up thanks to the COVID saga. They are marching in the streets in nation after nation. From Europe to Australia to Canada, and even in far too lazy America, millions have stood against vaccine mandates and lockdown orders.
And battles are being won. Britain just dropped their mandate regime. The U.S. Supreme Court at least partially struck down Joe Biden’s unprecedented and unconstitutional vax mandate.
Authoritarians and those bent on playing God deciding the medical and even genetic fate of humans, are being called out, and examined more closely as a result of the big lie that is failing more badly with each passing day.
No one believes Fauci any more about his bat tales and gain-of-function funding denials. God willing, he will be brought to justice for crimes against humanity.
And hopefully so will many others, for the tragic nursing home deaths of the elderly, for the devastation of a young generation who will never completely escape the scars of what they have been put through, for the economic catastrophe causing want and starvation, for the destruction of small businesses and average livelihoods, and for the obscene self-enrichment of already scofflaw elites.
At the end of the day, I’m proud to have made some small contributions to Gerald Celente’s monumental and historically important work and voice at the Trends Journal.
I’m also proud of every reader who supports what is being done here, and I hope you all continue to spread the word, to keep fighting for what’s right, and to use the information you find here to equip yourself to deal with whatever the future brings.
My grandmother Connie Traina used to say to me when I was young, “if you have your health, you have everything.”
Gerald Celente is a man who not only exudes the good health that my Sicilian grandmother did for all of her 91 years on earth. He is dedicated to informing as many people as possible about how to live, as Tom Wolfe might’ve put it, a “life in full.”
The efforts of men like him continue to throw a huge gut punch into even the best laid plans and machinations of powerful, supercilient, craven and just plain evil actors on the world stage.
God bless him, the COVID War could not have found a better Man of Peace to wage the good fight.