A National Navigating Through the Fiction

 I am a living man in Commiefornia during the “Wag the Dog Psy-op” of the Covid Era.  Simply put, that means that AI (artificial intelligence and alien intelligence) has greatly succeeded with the implementation of the social credit system part of ID 2020 of Agenda 21.  Humans here are as panting dogs waiting for their rewards of “free” coffee, gas, and points with credit cards, to name a few.  They are as lustful want-to-be authoritarians expecting to survey and judge fellow humans in order to please their masters.  Both the rewards received and the “required” surveys of the past ten years have trained humans for the social credit system which is upon us now.  If you have obediently had three toxine shots, wear your mask, and fink on those who do not comply with AI and agents of the government, then Commiefornia is most likely your home, or should be, because you will fit in here.  You will also feel impulsed to challenge the national: the bare-faced, free-thinking strange one amongst the obedient.

Today was such a day.

My bare-face and I were at the post office—the very busy post office.

Perhaps because I finally put my book away and turned to see which window would be finished first, the man six feet behind me (possibly practicing for being six-feet under, I am not sure), noticed my bare-face.  He must have felt it his duty to challenge the audacity of one so rude and uncaring about all those “vaxxed-up,” limited-breather US Citizens that obviously complied with their god, Satan.

“Excuse me,” he quietly said, carefully scooting four feet toward me as if I was a bomb that might go off any second.  He then came one more brave foot closer.  “Did you forget to wear your mask?”  And then he jumped back one safe foot awaiting the reply.

Is that not the craziest question?  Forget to participate in a Satanic ritual of initiation?  Forget to impede breath?  Really, “forget”?  Okay, he was being gentle in his approach to score points with AI for being such a good little robot keeping those stragglers in line, by golly!

But I am a national.  I got to witness that truth working for me, for a change.  And it was awesome.

I simply answered, “No.  My evidence is on file with the sheriff,” pointing behind me to the station that is next door to the post office.

He scurried back to six-feet away after a quiet, “Oh,” surely not understanding and not knowing how to respond.  

All eyes quickly left me and the scene as if they had not been observing the man that did what they had wanted to do.

I have found it best in Commiefornia not to say certain words.  “Exemption” is one such word.  What can anyone say when you start talking about evidence in a police or sheriff’s station?  I can tell you: nothing.  What is even better is that had ANYONE called them, I really do have evidence there and in the California Attorney General’s office and in the Department of State.  I could back up my bare-face.  Who would have thought that one would ever have to fight for their Right to breath?  But a national can.

I may be still in the fiction, but as a national, there are times when it truly is easier to navigate that fiction as a national.