Facing the Beast, page 12
Coincidentally, with little formula available and with some or many (we don’t know) vaccinated moms having compromised breast milk, it turns out that Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, Richard Branson, and Mark Zuckerberg have all invested in a start-up called “BIOMILQ”—which produces lab-grown breast milk from mammary cells.14 Reports of this start-up include this Frankenstein-like language as if this is normal: “The BIOMILQ team creates its product from cells taken from human breast tissue and milk, donated by women in the local community, who get a Target gift card in return.”15
As if all of this is not horrific enough, Ms Hecht drew studies from three countries—Canada, Scotland, and Israel—to show that babies were dying disproportionately, during and after 2021, in highly vaccinated countries, and that newborns were dying disproportionately if they have vaccinated mothers versus unvaccinated mothers.
In highly vaccinated Scotland, almost twice the number of babies died in 2021 as died in baseline numbers.16 Ontario, Canada, has seen a rise in stillbirths, an issue a brave parliamentarian brought to Parliament.17
In Israel, at Rambam Hospital in Haifa, there were 34 percent more spontaneous abortions and stillbirths from vaccinated women compared with unvaccinated women.18
Ms Hecht also notes that menstrual dysregulation in vaccinated women was fully confirmed by many studies, with an average of one extra day of bleeding a month (a side effect I warned about in 2021, as you recall).
You don’t have to know more than eighth-grade biology to know that a dysregulated menstrual cycle; not to mention spike protein accumulating in the ovaries; not to mention the traversing of the bodies’ membranes, including the amniotic sac, by tiny hard fatty lipid nanoparticles; not to mention PEG in breast milk—are all going to affect fertility, fetal health, childbirth, and babies’ GI wellbeing or distress, and thus their ability or failure to thrive, let alone to bond.
And now, the babies are dying. Now scale the data from Canada, Scotland, and Israel to all the vaccinated nations in the world.
What do we do with all of this?
Knowing as I do, that Pfizer and the FDA knew, just by looking at their own internal records, that babies were dying and mothers’ milk was discoloring; knowing as I do that they did not alert anyone let alone stop what they were doing, and that to this day Pfizer, the FDA, and other demonic “public health” entities are pushing to mRNA-vaccinate pregnant women; knowing that they are about to force this on women in Africa and other lower-income nations who are not seeking the mRNA vaccines19; knowing that Pfizer and Moderna pushed for and received FDA authorization for injecting babies six months old, to four-year-old children—I was forced to conclude that we were looking into an abyss of evil humanity has not seen since 1945.20
I must switch gears, with this kind of knowledge, to another kind of discourse.
I am not saying that this is exactly like finding evidence of Dr. Mengele’s experiments. I am saying that now, with these findings, the comparison is not excessive. These anti-humans at Pfizer, speaking at the WEF; these anti-humans at the FDA; knowing what they know—targeted the miraculous female body, with its ability to conceive, gestate, birth, and nurture life. They targeted the female body’s ability to sustain a newborn human being with nothing but itself. They targeted the amniotic membrane, the ovaries that release the ovum, they targeted the lymph and blood that help support the building up of mother’s milk, they targeted the fetus in utero, helpless. And they have not relented once.
They targeted the human fetus’ very environment, one of the most sacred spaces on this earth, if not the most sacred.
And they knew it.
I am not proselytizing, but in those apocalyptic days, I turned to prayer. I started to say in public, once I had to face the fact of the die-off of the babies, that this was a Biblical time; and I mean Old-Testament Biblical.
I mean a time like that of the construction of the Tower of Babel—of massive arrogance against divine plans. Men such as Bill Gates tamper with and seek to outdo God’s best works in lab after lab, and tech bros “disrupt” the human competition for their unsought-after goods and services by targeting human processes and by ruining the bodies made in the image of God. They tried to inject their way into destroying the health and reproductive powers of humanity, and now that Pfizer’s manufacturing demand has dropped 89 percent—in part because we relentlessly reported what the Volunteers were finding—the same tech bros have moved on to attacking humanity’s freedom and bodily integrity in other ways.
And the babies continue to die. I interviewed Dr. James Thorp, a fetal-maternal medicine specialist who was fired by his hospital in 2023, though he was said to be the most published of the obstetricians and to have brought in the highest revenue. I interviewed two independent midwives. And all confirmed that they are seeing unprecedented horrors in the birthing rooms: compromised placentas with networks of calcifications, probably caused by the lipid nanoparticles traversing that membrane; placentas that are shrunken, or flat, so that the babies cannot grow normally and must be delivered prematurely; babies with congenital malformations. Babies with breathing problems—air sacs between their chest walls and their lungs, which condition was identified in the Pfizer documents. Deaths in childbirth are up 40 percent, as women are endangered by amniotic sacs that fall apart and cause bleeding. Women have been returned to the unsafe childbirth conditions of the nineteenth century.
It is a time like that when the ten plagues assailed the Egyptians in Exodus, and the Lord said to Moses:
About midnight I will go throughout Egypt. Every firstborn son in Egypt will die, from the firstborn son of Pharaoh, who sits on the throne, to the firstborn son of the female slave, who is at her hand mill, and all the firstborn of the cattle as well. There will be loud wailing throughout Egypt—worse than there has ever been or ever will be again.21
This was the worst plague of all, the slaying of the firstborn.
It is a time of ha-satan—Satan. In the book of Job, Satan told the Lord that he was “roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.”22
That description, that vibe, felt familiar.
It is a time of demons sauntering around in human spaces, though they look human enough themselves, smug in their Italian suits on panels at the World Economic Forum.
Ha-satan and his armies: ruining the conception, the milk, the menses, the touch, the cradling of the infant by its mother, ruining the feeding of the infant; ruining the babies themselves.
I read the prophets a lot as the Pfizer revelations emerged—because how could I not? I was looking for what writer Anne Lamott called “operating instructions.” What do you do when humanity itself is threatened? When there are professional battalions and bureaucratic departments of people who act with anathema toward humanity?
Surely there must be a clue.
So I reread the story of Noah, and the Book of Esther; I reread Jeremiah.
We’ve been here before. Embarrassingly often, when it comes to that.
The story is always the same, at least in the Hebrew Bible (in the New Testament, of course, God skips to the end and upends the plot).
In the Hebrew Bible, God is always trying to get our attention, always, it seems, simply asking us just to walk alongside Him; simply asking us to keep His not-too-challenging commandments; not, indeed, asking a lot. As the Lord said to Jeremiah: “I will pronounce my judgments on my people because of their wickedness in forsaking me, in burning incense to other gods and in worshiping what their hands have made.”23
In the Hebrew Bible, anyway, the math is simple. We turn, we listen, and we are saved; or we carry on heedlessly, worshipping what our own hands have made, sluts to other gods—to “the science,” to media lies; to the narcissism of convention, these days, one might say—and thus we are lost.
We have been nearly lost, time after time after time.
This time, these monsters in the labs, on the transnational panels, are so very skillful; and so powerful; and their dark work is so extensive.
If God is there—again—after all the times that we have tried His patience—and who indeed knows?—will we reach out a hand to Him in return? Will we take hold in the last moment out of this abyss, and simply find a way somehow to walk alongside Him?
Or will we, in losing the babies, and heedlessly carrying on nonetheless—be truly lost ourselves?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Facing the Beast
I was relaxing in our screened porch at our little cottage in the forest, feeling rather pleased with myself. It had been an arduous week of the usual combat for liberty. But there had been victories.
I was reading a decorating magazine (we all have our vices). The grass was dewy; birds were loud. The morning was glorious.
I was feeling pioneerish and independent. I was alone in the house; Brian was traveling. I enjoyed the narrative moment: “Lady in the woods.”
Then I heard a thump about eight feet away, behind my head. It was an exasperated thump, like a teenager slamming the door to his room. Like, “Really??”
I glanced behind me and saw the enormous ears and forehead of a sizable brown bear, who was ducking insolently, clearly aware of me, to lower himself behind the trash cans.
I sped indoors, locking the door. I grabbed a weapon out of the hall closet. In my haste, I grabbed the weapon that looked like a rifle instead of the actual rifle, which was in a case. Thus I found myself locked in an upstairs bathroom, cowering, armed with a BB gun.
I sort of knew this bear. Brian had captured him on his outdoor wildlife camera about a year ago; what must have been this bear and his brother or sister, when the little ones were just adorable cubs. One of the cubs had nuzzled the trail cam till the mom had batted it away, urging her little ones to follow her deeper into the woods, far from the dangerous things of men. One of the cubs had now turned into this massive creature, what bear-watchers call a “sub-adult.”
I saw, peering fearfully out of the window, that he was no longer cute and fat. He was thin, but massively muscled, and looked disoriented. He must have been eight feet long.
I raced into the upstairs bedroom and secured the windows. The bear left the garbage cans and followed me around the corner of the house. I could now see him pacing and sniffing directly opposite the bedroom windows, though on the ground level. There were windows all around the house on that level. Bears have been known to break into homes.
I looked under the bed: hiding there could not save me if the bear made it into the house. I realized I was holding a BB gun and felt ridiculous. Even if I managed to shoot him, this would do nothing but enrage him. The thin bedroom doors, that I had thought so rustic and charming, could be broken down in no time by an angry animal of that size.
My heart pounded as I realized that he was not leaving; he continued pacing and circling, no matter where I went.
I went back into the bathroom and locked that door with its flimsy lock.
There he was again, outside on that side of the house, as if he was spotting me or as if he could scent me. Surely, he could smell my fear.
I cowered behind the bathroom curtain. The bear paused in his ransacking of the trash, stood up again on hind legs, looked right at me—or smelled right at me—and bared his long, sharp yellow teeth.
If I had had sympathy for the hungry teenager abandoned by his mom (or “emancipated” by his mom, as the bear-watching sites explain), it evaporated.
I was on the phone with Brian, frozen with fear.
“Make yourself big! Shout at him!” Brian instructed. That was impossible. I could not move. I could hardly breathe.
That would be it, surely, I thought, after the bear had exhausted the trash bag. He’d leave now, surely. But no. He came back toward me again like a nightmare and headed once more to circle the house.
I called the sheriff’s office.
Twice they told me that nothing could be done, and to stay inside. I don’t blame the Columbia County Sheriffs. They have issues to deal with more serious than a former city lady trapped in her house by a hungry bear.
But the bear kept circling right up against the walls of the house. This went on for an hour. Adrenaline poured through my bloodstream. I did wonder if I would die that day.
When I called back in spite of myself and begged the police for help, they told me to call again only if he managed to break into the house. (Thank you, “Defund the Police” advocates.)
At certain points of extreme stress, I could not even bring myself to look outside to see where the bear was. What if I looked and couldn’t see him because he was already in the house? I went right into a place that is familiar to those of us with PTSD—a traumatized place where you freeze and where you engage in magical thinking.
If I don’t look at the bear he won’t be there. If I don’t meet his gaze he won’t see me or smell me. I am somewhere else. I am not really here.
After an hour I was saved when brave colleagues of mine, who had been meeting nearby, drove down our wooded driveway, blowing their car horns. I raced down the steps, never so happy to see people in my life. Had the sound scared the bear away? He was now nowhere to be seen. My friend Reinette laughed at the sight of me scrambling to open the door to welcome them—still carrying my useless BB gun.
I think I was coherent, but I was in shock. An officer from the sheriff’s department arrived at the same time, bless him. Humans saved me. The aggressor, the wild animal, had been scared away, and not by me. I’d been a wreck, hopeless.
For days, I ruminated about the sharp yellow teeth of that bear, exposed as he raised his snout into the air, sniffing, like a scene from a horrifying fairy tale.
Why do I tell this story?
Because—the bear had been growing more and more comfortable emerging from the woods; he grew more and more comfortable exploring our trash, and then he took over territory by exploring our lawn. He was “habituated” ultimately, as bear-watchers say; he had ownership of the lawn and was circling the house to mark his territory. He was comfortable at last in stalking the homeowners.
He was here because I had done nothing to stop him. He was here because I let him slowly take over our home.
My not being able to look directly at the bear did not make me any safer. My denial put me in greater danger.
This all, of course, really happened. But that does not mean it is not also a metaphor.
The same week that this happened, I also finalized my reporting about the Pfizer vaccines, showing—what I knew for months I would eventually find.
The heart of the manufacture and distribution of millions of doses of the mRNA vaccines that have caused such a swath of death and destruction throughout North America and Western Europe is enmeshed with the plans, methods, and manufacturing infrastructure of our existential adversary.
The enemy is within our very bodies.
Since I first started reading the reports produced by the 3,250 medical and scientific experts of the WarRoom/DailyClout Pfizer Documents Analysis Volunteers team, based on the 450,000 Pfizer documents released under court order, I knew I was seeing not just medicine gone wrong, not just a greedy pharmaceutical company and a regulatory agency that was fully corrupted, but rather, or additionally, I was seeing a massive act of war.
When I saw the eighteen months’ worth of sudden deaths, slow deaths, encephalopathy, strokes, heart attacks, pericarditis, myocarditis, Guillain-Barré, Bell’s palsy, multiple sclerosis, blood clots, lung clots, leg clots, blue-green breast milk, spontaneous abortions, stillbirths, neonatal seizures, neonatal multiorgan system failure, liver damage, kidney damage, suppressed lactation, suppressed sperm count, disrupted menses, all detailed in the Pfizer documents; when I saw the fact that 34,000 plus of the 42,000 plus “adverse events” case reports—meaning “patients”— itemized in the first three months of the rollout of the Pfizer injections were in the US—with the next largest group being in Western Europe—and that the fifty-six countries around the world that also had Pfizer injections rolled out amounted to only a bit over 7,000 case reports total—I knew I was seeing not just medicine gone wrong on a massive scale, but rather that I was seeing an act of war.
When I saw the doubling of neonatal deaths in country after country, the rise of 34 percent above normal in stillbirths and spontaneous abortions for vaccinated versus unvaccinated mothers; when I saw that 3,816 vaccinated women in the Vaccine Adverse Events Reporting System (VAERS) database lost their babies—57 percent of all the neonatal deaths in all the time that VAERS records had been kept1; when I saw that of 32 pregnancies followed in the Pfizer documents, 28 of the unborn babies died2; when I saw the rise of 40 percent in maternal death rates3 and the shocking rise in cases of disability in the West4—I knew I was not seeing just medicine gone wrong on a massive scale, but that I was witnessing an act of war.
When I saw that you could boost the lethality or the damage caused by the injection by simply changing how dilute the solution is, or simply by reassigning which brand you use—with Moderna (100 mcg) far more damaging than Pfizer (30 mcg)—I knew that I was seeing not just medicine gone wrong on massive scale, but an act of war.
When I saw a study out of Hong Kong in 2021—a study that, of course, was answerable to the CCP—that revealed that a second dose (a “booster”) into the bloodstreams of mice resulted in visibly enlarged hearts with white patches that could be seen by the naked eye, as well as cytokine storms and liver damage, I realized that the two-dose regime and then the “boosters” were slow but progressive ways to damage and then destroy the health of Western patients. The study concluded: “Post-vaccination myopericarditis is reported after immunization with coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) messenger RNA (mRNA) vaccines.”5
And yet with this CCP-overseen finding, that by injecting mammals with the mRNA vaccine, their hearts were visibly damaged, the worldwide injection program kept going—I knew that I was seeing not just medicine gone wrong on massive scale, but an act of war.
