The Two Truths Between

Cafe Locked out

Every few days, our big guns—Dr. Robert Malone and Dr. Peter McCullough—post something that, before we even get up, has already racked up over two million views. We’re getting closer, Dr. Paul Oosterhuis often says, we’ve already landed at Normandy; and now we’re bombing Berlin.

He’s right. Things have changed. As he told me today, we now have some of our most prominent anti-vaxxer critics who are now the heads of American Government Departments.

Years ago, the trolls could attack us publicly, with as much hate as they could concoct, without any fear of having their posts removed or being banned from social media. If we replied with anything other than an apology, we’d get a time restriction or have our entire page removed. Café Locked Out’s flagship page, with over one hundred thousand followers, was removed without warning because we aired a live show with Alex, a woman who claimed she could prove that the turbines covering our country were a scam.

Anyhow, this is why we used to ban the trolls as soon as they showed up, with their fake new profiles and handful of friends. They interest me now, though, because I don’t understand them. It still astounds me how, after all this time, they can sustain this level of hate.

Some of them have been trolling me every day for over four years. The human in me has come to believe that they are bots, for to have nothing to offer the world but hate—I just pity them for how hard that would be. Then again, if they were being paid, maybe it’s a good gig: well-paid, holidays, work from home... and all you have to do is sit on social media, trying to douse every light of hope while using hate to try and paint everything dark.

Yet what did we do to earn such sustained hate? Forget their birthday? Post a tasteless meme? Share a post from one of our renowned experts stating that by now most of the vaccinated would be dead? And they’re not. The excess death rate might be higher than before, and lots of young people are getting turbo cancer and many more are sick, but the majority are not dead.

Then again, early on, we unvaccinated were told, and retold, that Covid would hunt us down. It didn’t. Fact is, most of us have never had Covid, or just had it once. And usually, it was a mild dose.

Another fact that breeds hope is that most of the comments on our posts now are positive, and some of our more popular posts breed such excitement that we can almost smell victory. Or so we believed.

Now I’ve come to the belief that online we are in an echo chamber. A bar-less cell created and guarded by algorithms. And their walls are so well woven, that the only ones who see our posts are our own people. So instead of reaching the other side and waking the sleeping up, as we say, these posts just light up the truth that lies strewn between us. Visualize, if you can, thousands of jigsaw pieces, all scattered willy-nilly between the mud separating our trenches. And this mud has another purpose: it is a visual representation of the worth the truth has to many of those we are trying to reach.

In the early marches, when we were urging people to wake up and struggling to understand why they wouldn’t, it dawned on me that what we were actually asking people to do was risk losing their career, their home, their social circle, and perhaps their families. Then, from the ruins, retrieve a piece of cardboard, and if you can find them, your kids’ crayons, and scrawl "freedom" on one side, before then coming down and joining us on the steps of parliament, and prepare to get pepper-sprayed. Could this be the core seed of our division?

The Double-Slit Experiment

From GROK.

The double-slit experiment shows that particles can act like waves or solid objects depending on whether you observe them. It reveals a core idea in quantum physics: reality at the tiny scale is fuzzy, and observing something changes how it behaves. It’s like the universe is playing a cosmic game of probability until you look at it! Or in other words, a particle can be either, or both, and which it is, kind of depends on you.

Digging deeper, what if this paradoxical fact—that two incompatible truths can be simultaneously correct—is a foundational principle of existence?

A few years ago, we were all faced with a decision: to get vaccinated or not. The pressure was huge, but as Prime Minister Sco Mo stated, after the date had been reached for you to be jabbed, “no one was forced; it was a choice.”

A choice that divided the country, ripped families apart, destroyed careers, and saw us all lose our country’s identity, voluntarily.

But in hindsight, which choice was the correct one?

Well, what if both were correct?

The decision to take it, for all your various reasons, was the correct and brave decision. Well done.

Simultaneously, the decision not to take it was also the brave and correct decision. Well done.

Everything that happened after that? Well, decisions are like dominoes. Each one made leads to another, and often these toppling paths, thanks to the divine entanglement of destiny, are hard to stop.

Now though, miraculously, the test experiment has reached its destination.

Those experts amongst us, who can test our blood, now cannot tell vaccinated blood from unvaccinated. Both are unhealthy. It seems, whether you chose to pass through the double-slits as a wave or as a particle, we are once again the same.

Which means we are no longer each other’s enemy. Instead, our real enemies are the ones who forced us to make the initial choice.

Are they the same ones who keep warning or frightening us with the threat of new variants? Who want us to keep participating in the experiment.

Or is this all read, and instead of wanting to control us by constantly keeping us divided, they actually truly, deeply, not to mention financially, care for us.

Perhaps the answer lies not in the decisions we chose when we were forcedly asked to decide, but in asking those who are wanting us to make these choices: If you love us so much, that you’ve built vaccine factories pumping out hundreds of millions of mRNA vaccines a year, why do you actively ignore our brothers and sisters who have been injured or killed by your miraculous concoction?

Every weekend, concerned Australians plant The Forest of The Fallen. Thin bamboo sticks, crowned with a laminated A4 piece of paper upon which is recorded the story of one of these injured or lost.

They blow in the breeze like statements; such is the fragility of our lives, And the sway before us like unanswered questions; What the fuck is in it? When did you know it was dangerous? Etc Etc?

Regardless of what choices all of us initially made, we, the survivors are now here, and despite many of us wanting to move on, we all know something deep is profoundly, tragically, and currently wrong.

And if we want to discover how we all woke up one day in the poem, "Paradise Lost," then, since it appears more verses are coming, the first step is to find out how we escape is to...?

Michael Gray Griffith

31/05/25