Welcome To The Weeping Years

Cafe Locked Out on The Road

In a manicured park, with a stream running through it, reflecting the gums hemming its landscaped banks, I sat at a park bench table and prepared a trailer for that night’s live show.

Last night we camped on the edge of a farmed-forest and used a generator and starlink to host The No Goat Show.

After all this travelling, I still get moved by the beauty of the places I discover, when in the morning I open the door of the bus. This morning Florence’s roof was covered in a thin layer of ice, as the last of the mist retreated into the trees of the plantation.

I would never see this view again, in the novel of my life this was a unique paragraph, and then I was gone.

A man came running up. I put down my coffee; you can never be sure. Recently, in another town, a man was screaming at Florence, calling me a pedophile protector, stopping only to slurp on his ice-cream. But that man is not this one.

His name was Lee and he was relieved to meet us. Sitting down he started off-loading to just how asleep his town was; how compliant. “Six friends I’ve lost this year” he said “Six! and all of them in their early sixties. And everyone just accepts it” and he shook his head as he did. “Everyone dies sometime” he said, mocking the town folk. “Lot’s of people have strokes, and even more get cancer. . .” Then he stopped for a moment and looked away, as if he could see their faces, the ones he’d lost in the crisp morning air, then he turned back to me with the smile of someone not wanting to smile, and said, “six . . .SIX”.

He had a brother in our tribe and a daughter too, but the majority went the other way.

After he was gone, I was finishing up with the producing of the show and was preparing to move to the mail out. Since facebook rarely notified our audience of our live shows, and since too we had another streaming ban, mailouts have become the only way to let people know the show would be on.

It was now that a man who didn’t want to be named sat down to talk. He ran a healthfood store and was unjabbed. When he spoke he did so softly, wearily, with considered words and old tears in his eyes that looked like they were marooned.  He went on to tell me of his customers who are injured by the jab. Vertigo, fatigue, shingles, tinnitus and more.

“Do they admit it’s the jab?” I asked.

“No” he smiles, that same baffled smile that Lee had, then his eyes too looked like they were searching for the light in a dark room, where all the windows and doors were closed.

“I had one woman come in” he said “She was so sick. The usual aforementioned symptoms, and she’d just had the fifth. Five jabs in less than a year for a virus that she had 99.6% percent chance of recovering from naturally. I asked her, have you gone to your Doctor? Oh yes’, she’d replied, He said it was just a mild side-effect of the jab”.

“And if the TV people had told her to take another, she would” he said, then buried his face in his hands.

“How many people are you talking about?” I asked, “a few or a lot?”.

“Heaps” he said, “Heaps”.

A day later, in Bunnings, I can’t recall the aisle, and I won’t mention the town to protect his identity, but there I was looking for an extension cord when there he was smiling at me. In his early fifties, he quietly asked my name, to be sure, then shook my hand vigorously.

“I saw you walk through the door and I couldn’t believe it, I’ve been going aisle to aisle looking for you” Below his weary, red rimmed eyes fighting to keep in the tears he couldn’t stop.

He then went on to tell me about all the injured people in the store.

“Everyone is sick”, he said “Stokes, heart issues, fatigue, and not just people my age but the young too. And they won’t blame the jabs. It’s insane” he said “Insane”.

I asked him “Is there anyone else ‘like you’ here?”

“Only one” he said “but I don’t know where she is. And my family is all jabbed. My daughters’, all of them plus my daughter in law, who is due in a month, and they just discovered she’s only got six percent amniotic fluid. I hope they’ll be ok” he said.

Beneath his forced smile, worn was his face. He looked like a screaming silent man. I could see his inner self ripping these electrical items off the shelves.

But instead he gave me a hug and seriously squashed me, as the other customers browsed past, their fingers air searching the shelves for what they needed as this man tried to hold in his tears.

“Keep going” he whispered into my ear, “keep going”.

_

Her home, from the outside, blended in with all the other houses populating the street, but inside it could have made the cover of a Home and Garden magazine, and she, all smiles welcomed us in. If it wasn’t for the strange hissing of her tracheotomy, nothing would have been out of place.

A registered nurse, she’d taken the first jab because she needed it for work, and everyone else was doing it, and, her words, she trusted the medical system. But the first jab has seen her throat seize up. Several times, she ended up in her hospital’s Emergency Department, as they tried to figure out ways to open up her airways. Then she got better.

With her second shot due she inquired about an exemption but was told no, even by the immunologist. They told her to take a different jab. So she did. Two of them. She wanted to keep her job because she loved caring for people. But she can’t do her job anymore, for now, in order to save her life, she had to have a tracheotomy, permanently.

“I’ve blinged up the necklace that holds it in place” she smiled. She smiled a lot. For she was trying her best to move forward.

A day later we would be interviewing a mother, whose best friend, her twenty seven year old daughter, now resides in a container on her mother’s chest of draws. Some of her ashes have already been spread on the ocean, the rest are destined for other places, even overseas, for she took the jabs, that killed her, because she wanted to travel.  And to try and make sure this dead young woman isn’t another statistic, I got her mother to tell us all about what she was like, before any of us had ever heard of Covid.

And our email is full of falling people who want to talk. The trolls keep attacking us saying everything’s fine. Can they not feel that, mainly in the silence, their country is crying? For covid might be over, as the mainstream media states and celebrates, but it appears to me, that in its wake, it’s left us all to flounder into the weeping years.

Oh, look, we are now in another town, heading to another story, and around us the locals are walking around like Covid never happened, as above us all, a huge green banner flaps in the breeze. “Get Vaccinated Here”. The flu shot and the booster.

It’s like we Australians are now living in a country that’s environment is so hostile to human life, that in order to survive, we must obediently keep our veins full of anything that Big Pharma suggests we need.

Michael Gray Griffith

Cafe Locked Out