Twenty-eight emails … Seriously? How is this so complicated?
I’ll try to explain it again …
These kids are not against vaccines. They are not against contemporary medicine. They are not against compassion, they are not against progressive politics, they are not against conservative economics. They are not necessarily against religion, they are not necessarily against atheism, they are not necessarily against veganism or meat-eating … they are against using Genetic Engineering on any animal, from a cricket, to a mealworm, to a mouse, to a pig, to a chimpanzee.
They are not against this type of work unilaterally. If a statistically-consistent reason of why this type of genetic engineering is available, they’ll consider it. But don’t lie to them, they’re smarter than you are with math, they’ll see your lie and then they’ll never trust you again. Your shareholders will lose value, your house on Cape Cod will be downgraded by a not-too-bad diesel motorhome, but neither you nor your wife will actually enjoy a retirement that consists of sitting around a bunch of other RVers, instead of a bunch of Cape Codders, regardless how often you say otherwise. So don’t lie to them, capisce?
If you want to sell vaccines that have been functionalized on animals like mice with genetically-engineer humanized immune systems, pigs with genetically-engineered humanized reproductive systems, and bonobos with genetically-engineerd humanized nervous systems, then tell the kids why and tell them the truth. If it’s “to make these medicines financially feasible so we don’t have to hire as many human test subjects” then tell them that. If it’s “to speed up development of these these medicines to get them to market faster” then tell them that.
But if you hide the truth, that they simply do not support wholesale genetic engineering on animals, then you’re going to find yourself soon enough in a rather lovely motorhome park in Cherokee, North Caroline. And you and the love of your life are going to run across an old friend at some outdoor festival, and they’re going to say, “We haven’t seen you around Cape Cod, but we’re so happy that we took a weekend for this festival. In which hotel are you? We’ll meet for drinks.” And then you will tell them that you live in a rather lovely diesel pusher motorhome, with three slide-outs. And then you’ll lie, “we just rent out the Cape Code home now, it’s too muggy up there for our taste.” You’ll wish you would have said anything other than “muggy” but it was all you could think at that moment.
Are we on the same page at this point? It’s marketing. You make the product that the market WANTS. If you have to lie to the market to grudgingly accept your product, then the market doesn’t want it. Duh.
Vaccines? Hell, half of us get your dumb-ass flu vaccines even though they give us the fucking flu. You think you make fun of anti-vaxxers? Hell, we shit all over anti-vaxxers. I once saw a downhiller push a funbox kid off his nickle board in the skatepark. This kid, this poor homeschool kid, he’s sitting in the grass, his feelings hurt beyond all reason, the look in his face; “why?” Because we tend to view anti-vaxxers as weak. If they can’t survive a some fucked up chemicals and selective breeding in a witch’s brew of toxins, directly injected into our arteries, then how can they possibly survive eating shit on a five block downhill, hitting the trough at 40 mph or more, deck wobbling like a vicar on Fat Tuesday? We don’t give a shit about anti-vaxxers, but when you call us anti-vaxxers, it won’t work. Ninety-five percent of us have been so pumped full of vaccines that we’ll leave corpses that probably pop back to life a few thousand years after we wake up underground. We’re not anti-vaxxers.
So if you want to continue your tradition of plugging this shit product of medicines functionalized and tested on genetically-engineered animals, then you’ll need a different approach. Howabout you just say something like “Hey you Nature gene lovers! Why not get with the program? The future is all about genetically-modified animals, doofuses! When aliens come to this planet after our extinction, they’ll look at the genetic signatures of all these animals and they’ll say “Damn, homie, these human motherfuckers seem to have stuck their dicks into a lot of animals, their genetics are all over these things. But wait, how did they fuck a mouse? Hold on … okay, I got it, they didn’t fuck the animals, they actually thought that they could improve on a few hundred million years of natural evolution with a few research grants, some CRISPR and a leaky lab. Fumb Ducks.”
We’ll at least chuckle at that one, maybe get Mike Judge to package it as Idiocracy 2086, the prequel, where Drs. Krensky and Altshuler find a way to use CRISPR to save Clevon Jr.’s life.
I can’t think of any other functional ways to get that dog to hunt, gentlemen. It’s a shit product, and the only people that seem to actually want it are a bunch of Baby Boomers that are actually closer to the grave than you are to that KOA Campground. (Yeah, I’m going to twist the knife, because you need to fully comprehend the alternative.)
Okay, here’s the alternative …
Make an internal classification for two types of pharmaceuticals. If it meets all of these qualities, it is a Category R drug; profitable, slightly lower perceived price (i.e. high perceived value), clinically effective with greater than 50% confidence threshold.
If it meets any of these qualities, it is a Category S drug; politically confrontational, high perceived price (i.e. low perceived value), clinically effective with less than 50% confidence threshold.
Now, let the Category R drugs make a lot of money for your shareholders. You will exit this mortal coil, toe-up, surrounded by your family and loved ones in Cape Cod.
For the Category S drugs, define the markets and the needs, and then produce them in a way that uses non-biologics. Magnesium, selenium, manganese, iron, calcium carbonate, and others. The goal with these is to get the body chemistry stabilized so the existing, non-GMO biologics from Category R can do their job better. This isn’t rocket surgery, there is a metric fuckwagon of research on everything from the myelin sheath to the plasma balance. And we’re not talking confrontational science for the most part, there is liquid chromatography of healthy balances and chronically-ill balances. Yeah, a few nutcakes are going to complain about it, but we won’t. We get it, we’re an evolutionary design of chemicals. Patent it as needed, we’ll pay the premium, even with our shitty Health Bronze non-insurance. We’ll call this new class of non-biologics; Category T.
I don’t give a rat’s blue asshole which one of you actually wants to move your companies into the future with a suite of Category T drugs. In fact, I’m happy if none of you do it. If you don’t sell us medicinized trace elements in an easily-dissolved non-oxate, then we’ll make them ourselves. Heck, Natural Calm is flying off the shelves, and not just because of my recently-rediscovered recipe for the Dirty Dishwater cocktail. (By the way, to the two of you who asked about the Haitian Lanilla, it will not work if you use healthy coconut water. The salt balance is all wrong. You need to use the Mexican-style Coconut Water that comes in a can with the added sugar, it’s available at many dollar stores and 7/11 stores. The Mexican coconut water more closely resembles water from a young, sweet coconut, and that’s what you need for the Haitian Lanilla.) Anyway, Natural Calm is popular because it actually seems to do something to our bodies after we’ve spent too many years at high altitude with food grown in soil that has been depleted of magnesium.
If you don’t bring Categories T’s to market and keep Category S’s off the market, then we’ll trust the coming crop of pharma from Wellnext Health, because they share our values, as long as they refuse to functionalize their products on GMOs.
Soon enough, you’re going to see something curious. You’re going to see your vaccination rates decrease. Yeah, you’ll know that it just means a bunch of vaccinated people finally jumped ship and posted a TikTok of how you emotionally violated them by not admitting that you used genetically-engineered organisms to make those vaccines. But the end result is even worse; not only did you not gain customers, but you actually lost customers for future products. They no longer trust you … again.
You see Mr. Cape Cod sir, there were a few firefighters who saw that the whole hero-pussy after 9/11 couldn’t last forever. They learned how to mountain bike, they learned how to watch Au Service de la France and understand it without all the subtitles. They became good humans for all the people who wanted to marry firefighters. And there were firefighters who rode their hero pussy right into old folks home. Be like the former rather than the latter, you’ll get to avoid KOA, you’ll maintain the trust of your customers.
This isn’t hyperbolic rocket surgery. If you see someone with a bandana around their face, and they look fairly normal, they are probably not there to rob the place, or round up a few hundred head of cattle and avoid inhalation of a cloud of dust.
They wear the bandana because the law and local codes usually require them to wear a face covering, since they most likely have moral and ethical objections to functionalizing and testing mRNA vaccines on genetically-engineered, humanized mice. So they have decided to wait for a conventional vaccine that has not be functionalized and tested on genetically-engineered, humanized mice. When that is available, they will vaccinate like everyone else.
We are not against vaccination. We are against genetically modified organisms. That’s what the bandana means. It’s a sign of resistance from a whole lot of people who trust Mother Nature more than they trust even well-meaning scientists. And we feel this way because we are scientists too, and we can attest that scientists in fact fuck up just as often as regular people. Mother Nature doesn’t fuck up. She does what she does because we do what we do.
You and I, we’ve had a great run. I’m not going to waste your time reminding you or ups and our downs. You have tens of millions of lovers, and I’m just one. I get that. I’m off your radar, it’s okay, you are a desirable and astonishingly intriguing organization, and I’m not jealous. The others can get in line behind me.
Government to me, is that last resort … when my damned handler is shitfaced in a beach resort in Jalisco listening to Banda Maguay, when my family can’t be bothered with my shit anymore, when my friends are in my same asylum, and the fellow people of my own state are just as drunk as I am. At those times, I know that I can turn to The Government of the United States of America, and She will protect me from the coyotes that would like nothing more than to gnaw on my bones once the whole majestic man has been consumed for little more than the nutrients in my guts and in my hardened muscles.
And at the beating heart of this glorious United States body, is the Internal Revenue Service. Everyone from the agents on the cutting floor up to the customer support reps, the IRS has fulfilled the inevitable truth of Death and Taxes in a remarkable way. These people keep the whole shebang in well-tuned hum. And what do I do for them? I dutifully sort through the receipts from bottles of tequila and motor oil in the dim hopes that I will someday have enough deductable costs to exceed my Standard Deduction.
All this love and attention from the Department of the Treasury, and what have I, Rick Yukon done for these learned scholars or taxation and wealth? Astonishing little.
While I should have enriched the society and culture which has trained me as a master, I instead squandered these Great American Gifts in a river of hooch a biblical clouds of smoke … both of which at least held me together long enough so that I could write this promise of love and devotion to my IRS.
Dear IRS, I’m so deeply sorry that I’ve been a fucknut. You waited for me to bring you necessary operating funds with my knowledge, with my charisma, with my disarming humility. And what did I bring you? Scraps. Debris. Flotsam. Jetsam. I held the power to reinvent American Industry, to reinvent higher education, to reinvent the Hatian Lanilla. I held the power to do away with these ridiculous rockets and create intergalactic transport by modulating the weak-binding force to pull spin-half fermions out of the vacuum of space and harmonically couple them to form the most massive neutrinos in existence, which would then be fired through our particle accelerators to provide mass-reaction and useful faster-than-light movement to boats filled with tequila, tobacco and VHS tapes of classic 1980s situation comedies … the things that people in the other galaxies need.
And what did I do with this power, and the means to deposit quintillions of Fireballs into United States Department of the Treasury? Yes, I squandered it, as you knew that I would.
But I’m turning over a new leaf, IRS. I’ve removed the bottle of Milagro Silver from my desk, and I’ve placed it back in the bar. I told the exotic dancer that not only no I not want any of her nose candy, but I have in fact, never wanted it, and the only reason I consumed so much of it was to be polite to her. The New and Improved Rick Yukon is here now. I’m on the job!
Obviously, I can’t do all of this work by myself, I have a lot of obligations in various drinking establishments. But I, Rick Yukon, will find the brightest and most hard-working people to reinvent American Industry and higher education. And I will fine tune the Hatian Lanilla. That will be my burden, dear IRS. I’m doing this for you, baby. In the words of Shane, I swore I’d always love you, I always did, I always will.
Three students; one drunk, one who was reluctantly sober and one unfortunately cursed by love, have all asked me variations of this question within the last two weeks.
We’ll get there, but first, a survey of the conditions … free free to try this experiment on your own. Visit a pet supply store and ask them “May I buy some baby rats or mice to feed to my pet snake?” With some exceptions, you will likely be shown some feeder rodents with prices. Next time, ask the opposite question; “May I buy some baby snakes to feed to my pet rat?” Different response? Why?
At least in the business of pets, we seem to have a respect for snakes as apex predators of rodents, that we don’t have for the rodents. Rodents tend to get into our food stocks and our homes, so we hate them, we kill them with little hesitation, unless we happen to have a gerbil, hamster, rat or rabbit as a pet, those get a pass. And yet, even a field mouse cornered in the garage, is a terrified little mammal. We’ve all connected to them at some point to their remarkable fragility. Mice are not hard to kill compared to say, certain microbes, or even structures as small as a prion. But humans have shown our expertise at killing animals on the large end of our scale magnitudes … once we developed the age of industry, we found that we could kill things like whales, elephants, rhinos, and flightless birds without much difficulty. It’s still the small stuff that really eludes us … stuff like viruses, and staph, or of course, prions, those horrid little fuckers.
But mice, they push into an odd territory, don’t they?
They reproduce fast enough that with a source of food, they can become too numerous to ever exterminate, much like bacteria. But unlike bacteria, they are mammals, like us, and they can be readily genetically engineered to have immune systems that have been “humanized.” Kill a hundred? Breed two hundred more. Their relative fragility is a feature! They die easily? Well, we don’t want them to die TOO easily, but y’know, just easy enough to move some product through the Walgreens, CVS or Rite Aid. The biological research industry is a tough game. The people who do that work have to harden their hearts, and recognize that all the humanized mice that they have to test, are being tested to save the lives of humans. And I can only assume that most of them can handle it without wanting to blow their brains out. That’s where they set their moral compass, and they do a good job of working within those confines. But they also operate under the idea that “Nature is the worst terrorist.” That’s an idea that I reject, but I understand why some researchers say it. I feel that if they could do some nonlinear fluid mechanics and see just how much of a razor’s edge our lives rest, they would view Mother Nature as our greatest possibly ally against the forces of entropy, rather than call that gorgeous woman a “terrorist.” Yes, the idea bothers me because I believe it is borne of ignorance to just how lucky we are to even exist in the first place, let alone get to exist with the luxury of only being taken out by a virus, rather than by some kind of razor-jawed space monster.
And then there are those who oppose any and all kinds of genetic engineering. They will eat hybridized fruits and vegetables, but they won’t eat genetically modified organisms of any kind. They won’t eat animals or animal products because they don’t support the industrialization of animals. They argue that we have the means to produce vaccines without genetic engineering, that we have the means to produce foods and lifesaving technologies without genetic engineering, so we should simply do that. Some of these activists understand the dangers of manipulating carbon thread-like structures down below the 17 nanometer regime without control of chirality and stacking dislocations. While some of these activists don’t have this knowledge, and just take a “holistic” approach, some activists have both the knowledge to why genetic engineering is potentially dangerous, and also why the natural approach may be best. John B. Fagan is perhaps one of these activists as described by David Barboza in an over twenty-year-old New York Times article. The other extreme might be a farmer in India who sets fire to a field of genetically-engineered rice, because he wants to avoid the risk of those GMOs to contaminate his own all-natural, Vedic rice crop. That’s where they set their moral compass. Fagan willingly gave up some enormous research grants to stick by his principals. The Vedic farmer in India risked prison for doing violence against the GMO field. In both cases, they likely didn’t see the kinds of profits from their work that they would have seen if they had little problem with using humanized mice or GMOs in their business.
So where do you fit? Where do you set your moral compass? Maybe you don’t set it at all, let the wind takes you where it may? Sometimes we get lucky, and the wind blows us right into port without having ever touched the tiller … but most of the time, it’s the rocks.
This little analysis is just for you three, the rest of the readers have already left. So … stake a claim. Pick a position that lets you sleep at night. That’s all you have to do.
I don’t particularly like to feed a wriggling meal worm to a pet reptile, I feel the little thing terrified at its inevitable demise in the mouth of the pet gecko, but I don’t toss and turn in my bed trying to make peace with it. On the other hand, a mouse is sufficiently close to my own mammal point of view, that I unfortunately can’t block out their misery. I’m okay with conventional medicines and vaccines that test on mice, because for better or worse, that mouse has a job, same as me. But the second that mouse is born with an engineered, humanized genetic body, even though it looks the same as any other mouse, it seems to cross a line that I don’t want to cross. And that’s where I stake my limit. I can eat a genetically-engineered soy burger, even though I would prefer a non-GMO soy burger. I can take a vaccine that has been tested on mice, or chimpanzees. But humanized mice? Humanized primates? That would bump against that spot where I set my moral compass. Why? It doesn’t really matter, I have my reasons … they’re scientific and ethical and I don’t feel the need to share at the moment. But they are my ideals. I choose not to ridicule the values of others in this area, and I choose to not be ridiculed by them in return.
If you set your moral compass to a place where you don’t feel the need to judge others’ ethics, then you just might have found the sweet spot, a place where you can stretch out and breathe easy. I’m okay with a minority of people who support the industrial-scale production of mRNA vaccines using genetically-engineered humanized mice for the same reason I’m okay with a minority of people who are vegan and intensely centered around their ideals of protection of animals. And this reason is that we need both extremes, so that we can set our own moral compass on these issues, or at least while we wait for a COVID-19 vaccine that was not tested on humanized-mice. Yes, we understand that this non-GMO COVID vaccine will be more expensive, we understand that it will take longer to get, because it will need to be tested on humans to ensure safety of pregnancies and long-term impacts. But we’re willing to wait, and we’ll stay masked up as long as the law requires it of us. We support the safety and health of our human neighbors, and of our animal neighbors. That rodent may not be entitled to live if we decide that it needs to die, but it at least has the right to die with the genetic heritage with which it evolved. That’s the Rick Yukon official moral compass setting … altering that animals’ natural genetics so that it can be used as a cost-effective research tool in order to lower the costs of medicines which we may or may not need, is not different than many other forms of animal cruelty, except that the end-victim in these shenanigans will likely be our children and grandchildren.
This post is for public disclosure on our key holdings.
As longtime backers of the Space Force 7 organization have noted, we tend to run somewhat lean in the offices, and we tend to invest most of our revenue into research. However, in order to bridge our laboratory through difficult times, we do maintain holdings to provide liquid capital and thus cover operating costs when we have no other options open to us. Some of these holdings present a potential conflict of interest with our organization’s ongoing advocacy activities.
These holdings include 15 Cryptokitties, the least valuable of which is worth approximately $10 and the most valuable of which is worth approximately $88,000 during the height of the first Cryptokitties craze, but likely work considerably less at the moment. We disclose these NFT holdings due to our somewhat more contentious holdings of Our.Glass and Polydragon’s Fireball token. We support the work of all three organizations, however we make full and public disclosure to our investments in Our.Glass due to the public attention recently focused onto Our.Glass founder Trevon James. We strongly support the work of Mr. James and we stand by our investments in Our.Glass and the position of that system within the Bitconnect and Binance Networks.
The United States Securities and Exchange Commission has opened action against Mr. James and fellow developers.
Space Force 7 has produced two exploratory efforts into the model of the Our.Glass coin and compared the Our.Glass coin with similar products. We have initially concluded that Our.Glass is a stable and disruptive financial model that can potentially approach and contribute several opportunities in the U.S. Economy to expand investment in key components of three key industries. In noting these measurements, we also clearly note our open and notorious conflict of interest with our holdings in these digital assets. However the opportunity to fund disruptive research to improve the quality of the air, soil, water and lives is too significant for us to NOT invest in these assets. We have no ethical difficulty with earning lots of money and investing the liquidity into these afore-mentioned research projects.
We are confident that Mr. James and The U.S. Security Exchange Commission will come to an equitable arrangement to benefit both investors in the Our.Glass platform and also business people in brick-and-mortar businesses that rely on the Our.Glass platform. We note to the U.S. Security Exchange Commission, that the people who have invested in these brick-and-mortar businesses have done so in remarkably difficult times, following the loss of major sources of their income due to the COVID-19 quarantine. These business owners have requested less from the COVID relief programs than any other segment of the U.S. Standard Industrial Classification Index. These business owners largely and overwhelmingly decided to turn down the “free” money because they have seen the devastating effects of that these funds within their communities. They have since chosen to invest their often limited funds in the intellectual capital of their own community. Trevon James has spearheaded an effort to create a simple, crowd-sourced digital asset that can allow regular brick-and-mortar business owners to finance expansion of their businesses in a way that is fully compliant with their SBA, SBIR and financial requirements. The community earned this digital asset through their hard work against a country which stacked the deck against their own success for far too long. The U.S. SEC must be able to interpret the legal framework that guides their efforts in a way that helps to promote small business. Counsel to the SEC should endeavor to judge equally, corporate welfare at the very pinnacles of our economy, and working class investors in Black-owned financial models. If they are unable to apply the law in compliance with the purpose of these decisions then they will effectively chain closed the escapes from the smouldering ruins of the economy and force everyone to perish inside. Have no doubt SEC, Our.Glass, in our glass. If our community can’t survive in the digital space, we’ll survive on the streets. We’ve been doing that a lot longer than you have, and when you come to beg us for a scrap of food, we’ll remember what you did to Trevon, and we’ll hand you a nearly useless ten dollar bill, and you might be able to trade it for a single cigarette … if you’re lucky. And when you beg the former banker to sell you one of his loosies to you for a tenner, you remember what your second-cousin did to Eric Garner.
All other holdings of SpaceForce7 and SpaceForce7.com present no conflict of interest in our reporting and public advocacy.
Thank you, for reading these public statements. Here is a video that may help you to recalibrate …
Criminal negligence for four million COVID deaths if it turns out to be a lab leak? I doubt it. Everyone involved has probably already been offered immunity to prosecution, from Dr. Focaccia all the way down the doughy boy who sweeps the humanized-mouse carcasses out of the test cages.
Four million deaths, it’s going to be essentially impossible to claim it was anything other than an accident. I’m sure there are going to be some smarty pants who claim that Big Pharma and thus the genetic research community was not incentivized to keep these human-chimera gain-of-function experiments locked down, because they knew that if they got out and led to a few million deaths, that would be the critical mass for them to finally bypass FDA compliance on getting mRNA drugs onto the market. And not just bypassing the FDA compliance, but also getting people to forget about how much they hate GMOs. There is a clip from Futurama, how Leila was highly concerned about the effects of genetic engineering from MomCorp, until she found out that it could cure her incurable disease, then she says “Okay, I’m in.” As the cured Leila and Fry walk away in happiness, the city is then revealed to have been taken over by MomCorp’s GMO beans, which encase the city like radioactive Kudzu.
Years ago, if you asked just about any Lefty for their opinions on GMOs, at least half or more would have told you how it needs to be controlled for fear of an unexpected disaster. But now, anti-GMOers are being compared to Anti-Vaxxers by those who control the flow of disinformation. It’s a convenient enough trick, or at worst, that those who are concerned about GMOs are essentially old Fuddy Duddys who can’t get with the program. Tell them to “get over it, you old altacocker,” or “we don’t do things your way anymore, you Christian Scientist Ahmish baboon.” Whatever has the right tone to make it sound like concerns about GMOs are “so pre-COVID.” And that works reasonably well. Most people are sufficiently ignorant that actual science might as well be science-fiction. And I’m no better really, back when I lived in Glasgow I used to run numbers for some bookie family there, I saw something that changed my mind of genetic engineering. Before that point, it didn’t concern me much. Here’s what happened … the patriarch of the family, he gets me in his cigar shop, I figured he’s trying to get a bead on my head for his gambling business. They’re legal there, as far as I know, a good 90% of their business was licensed. But these old numbers families, they all want to have at least a little bit of illegal action … not enough do more than buy a few horses, but enough to keep it interesting. Most of those old bookies, they’ll hold action on anything they can. They’re holding action right now on the efforts to get this British export royal family to take off in the USA, how long it’s going to last before those royals move to Canada or maybe France, or even just buy a house on Madonna’s block in Crustyfordshire. Smart money says that most the Yanks are just don’t have the stomach for royalty, nepotism is something that seems to rub American’s fur the wrong way, they’re a nation of Cowboys and Arabs. That’s where the American Royalty is, it’s in whatever they can sell that goes down smooth and rugged. And a bunch of royals can’t kick ass, even when one marries a Black woman, he’s still going to be some pasty-assed candy-sucking cherry boy. And that will move product in Europe a good bit of the time, Asia, it’ll move product in Canada, Australia and country infected with even a bit of Commonwealth, but that doesn’t make the Yanks’ pussies wet … more Marlboro Man, less Marlborough Gentleman. The end result is that royalty is dying out BECAUSE it’s royalty. Now, you have a fine-ass Cherokee or Sioux Nation Princess, America is down with that. But not Brits, they’re too … what’s the word? Punk-ass motherfuckers? Yeah. There isn’t a British Royal on the planet that would be able to pick up a Cherokee Queen in the High Country Lounge, she would laugh their candy-ass onto the pavement. The British Royals are about as sexy as a bag of enriched wheat flour.
So this guy was running action on the British Royals that denounced the Royal Family, and they’re franchising their broken-ass Enriched Wheat Flour show in America. The smart money has them lasting another five years in L.A. doing reality shows, and then they’ll move down the street from Madonna. We already have a family with no actual skills and they’re pulling coin as the Armenian Royalty.
He pulls me into his cigar store, he hands me a half-decent Cuban, the kind where you break the glass. I’m careful, I look on the floor for any chunks of glass, but it breaks clean, I pull out the Cuban, smells good, I trim the ends, which is the way I like it, always has been, and I happen to know for a fact that he only bought the cigar store a few years ago with bookie money. But he does it the fancy way, the way people do it if they didn’t smoke their first cigar when they were fourteen or so. And this guy, he’s putting on a show for me. Yeah, his dad was a bookie, his granddad was a bookie, he knew the business, but he sees the numbers I’m running, and they’re just consistent, so he asks me, twirling that damned cigar like an idiot, “are you a mathematician?”
I tell him “Nah mate, I’m a physicist. And the only reason my games are running even is because I roll the line with logarithms instead of over-and-under.” I tell him “Mate, it ain’t rocket science.” I figured he was going give my games a little more exposure, and then the old bastard starts turning that fucking cigar, he’s hemming and hawing, trying to slow it down. It annoyed me, it was like he was trying to channel his inner Frank Rosenthal. I remember he had a work by George Wylie in the corner of his office, I assumed it was authentic, but with some of these guys, you never know. I figured, okay, this Glasgow after all, everyone fucking knows George Wylie here, there is no way he puts up a fake Wylie.
He finally tells me what’s up. Some nephew of his is working on his Ph.D. in applied physics, he’s into robotic arms for disabled veterans or something, he’s across the pond at Columbia, this punk kid has already failed his qualifier once, then he failed it a second time, but he supposedly showed enough forward progress that they give him one more shot … I’m not sure if they even know this kid is Scottish, I found out when I met him that he speaks posh, they might have assumed he was from Kent or maybe some financial family in London … but definitely not the nephew of some bookie with a cigar store just fish distance from the Clyde.
And that’s how I got back to the USA after Scotland. He didn’t need my numbers too much, but he needed me to get his nephew past his qualifier. He has no idea that it’s essentially impossible to cheat on them if the qualifier committee keeps their damn yaps shut to their students, which a lot of them don’t. I cut a deal with the old guy … one way ticket to JFK, four weeks salary regardless, if he passes the qualifier, I get twelve more weeks salary, if he fails, I pay him back one week’s salary. He agrees to that, next thing I realize, I wake up drunk inside the plane, halfway over the Atlantic, I had finished most of a bottle of Oban from the Duty Free in the airport, I mixed it with at least a dozen bottles of Irn Bru from the airport shop. I wake up on this plane, middle seat center aisle, best way to keep from getting woken up when you pass out on Oban and Irn Bru, because you don’t have anyone asking you to get up so they can take a shit, or ask you raise or lower your window shade. And you’re going to say I’m a damned liar, but it was true, all around me, second time, it was another woman’s sports team of some kind … lots of tattoos, I figured Roller Derby again, but this time I just kept my mouth shut, I had smuggled just enough cocaine onto that flight to get me to Kennedy, I didn’t need to share it with a Roller Derby team again like that flight from L.A.. I make it to Manhattan, I head up to NASA GISS, say hi to some friends, the Scottish kid meets me in the Seinfeld diner on the ground floor of the NASA GISS building. Nice kid, speaks posh, but he’s really into his idea of helping veterans who get their limbs blown off by IEDs. The kid was genuinely a good kid. But this kid, dumb as a box of rocks. There is no way he passes the qualifier fairly, and there is no way this kid is dirty enough to bug his advisor for “preparation advice” like most of the other candidates. I get a bead on this, we have six weeks until his qualifier, so it’s four weeks paid, two weeks unpaid, I decide right then to gamble that the extra two weeks will win me the twelve weeks and that I can get him to pass. But it’s not easy, this kid tells me he has to go to class and work in the lab. I tell the little fuck that he’s going to the Plaza Hotel with me, where his uncle got us a single room with two beds until the qualifier test. The Plaza is pretty nice, but he didn’t get the room service on barter, just the room itself, for six weeks. I didn’t need room service, I could live on those street chicken kebab sandwiches they have up near Central Park. (It’s why those asshole television chefs have such a tough time figuring out New York City, they can’t wrap their heads around the reality that the best food in the city comes out of those food carts.) He tells me we have to go to his apartment to get his books and he has to at least leave his lab notebook up at the lab so his research partners can get his data if they need it. My friend at GISS makes a few calls for me, they get me a colloquia for one of the nonplanar research groups, honorarium is $260, which was the most they could go without running it past the department chair and the colloquia committee, but it gets me a day-badge to get in the door. I figured I could get some intelligence about the test by what cartoons the professors tape to their doors … lots of Far Sides, it’s going to have minimal approximation techniques, mostly straight-up Jackson, Pathria, and Landau. Anything with Star Trek, it’s going to be more analytical problems. Pin-ups of fractals, no way to guess. I get there and poke around, lots of Far Side panels, we’re good, I can train him in the regular topics in six weeks. And then there’s the point of this whole story, thanks for waiting for it.
I go with the kid to his lab, turns out the principal investigator is in the ante-room, he running some density functional analysis on an Amazon mainframe. I get to talking with this guy, I have a little more coke from Scotland, so I offer him a bump, he and I both do a decent-sized bump. Now this guy is on a roll, I figured I might have hit pay-dirt, maybe he’s on the qualifier committee, I get some intel from this guy … cool guy by the way, he explained what he’s doing. The kid is in the back pulling data for his notebook. I catch a glimpse of him, he might not have the bones for theory, but he’ll make a good lab man. This associate professor, he asks me if I smoke, I ask him “cigarettes or weed?” He says “I have both.” We head down a back stairway, walk around the block,turns out he doesn’t have any weed, he has one of the vape pens. I’m not a fan, but whatever it takes, I noticed that a lot of the associate professors use the vapes now because they don’t want to smell like sativa flower for their students. And this is where shit gets weird, it’s the point of this whole story. That vape works fast, I’m high as fuck, we do another bump, and we’re walking back, he asks me, “you know why I picked prions? It’s the smallest organism I can model with the Amazon mainframes, and then I can build them with the STM we have the in the lab.”
At this point, I realized that there is no possible way this box of nutcakes is on the qualifier exam committee … he’s fucking around with prions in a physics lab, no biological containment that I could see. So I ask this guy how he gets research clearance to fuck around with prions. He gets paranoid fast, I could see it. You know that moment when you feel like everyone you talk to is a cop, and it’s best just to spill your guts? This guy is right there, he’s balls-on-the-table spilling the beans. Turns out he doesn’t get prions in at all, he’s pulling carbon nanofibers from a sol-gel coating method. No big deal, but then he drags individual fibers into the scanning tunneling microscope that he mostly built out of surplus from a pharma company. And then he uses the STM to push around the surface molecules and builds these things he calls “pseudo prions.” No functionalization as a prion, he keeps the new structure sufficiently far from the prions that they’re still just nanofibers. But he’ll functionalize one protein group on one size, and then he’ll do the flip side on another. There is no possible way that either of the half-proteins could do what a prion does, that’s his safety interface. But he joins the measured proximity sensing in the computer model and sure enough, he has a prion with the right chirality to damage natural proteins. It’s straight up Frankenstein shit, but nobody expects that out of physics lab. Then he starts to calm down a bit, I lie and tell him that I’m out of coke. He takes me into the lab, tells the Scottish kid to hit the turf, but I tell him that I plan on helping the kid prepare for his qualifier as a favor to his uncle. He looks a little nervous with the kid hanging around so I tell the kid to get his a copy of Cohen-Tennoudji, which I remember I saw in the office he shared with the Chinese, Russian and Indian candidates. I wanted to get rid of the kid, at this point, I’m actually kind of losing my cookies over this research. This guy built protein structures out of nanofibers. It was a big deal.
So he fires up the STM, he has some samples he had already functionalized. First, I guess just for safety, he cut a channel in the fiber between the bottom half that was already functionalized and the blank top half, and then he modulates the tip voltage and current to start shuffling around the molecules on the surface of the fiber. I watch this go down in real time. This fucker literally builds the top half of a prion in his lab. He has these surface molecules popping around like he’s building something out of those magnet balls, just boom, boom, boom, he built an organism with a kind of intelligence built into the surface Coulomb potential … there wasn’t really an intelligence, but in the computer, it could snap proteins at will, just fucking break holes in healthy proteins because of the chirality.
That was the moment that changed me. I learned to fear genetic engineering on that day because I knew there was no way that there was a cell biologist on the planet who could do what that guy did with that STM. That guy knew Kittel’s Solid State like it was the owner’s manual of an Austin Healey. I doubt it one our of five thousand physicists could do what that guy had done. But a cell biologist? No fucking way. They don’t even have the cryogenics to make most of that work, they’re mostly physicians anyway, none of them do poverty, and it’s unlikely they could figure out what that guy had done. If he could do that with an STM, what could a fluke genetically-modified DNA do if the chirality and surface energy found an inflection point? Kill the host, leave them impotent?
But it worked. COVID killed four million people, the lefties got scared, and like magic, suddenly a good 50% of them had lined up to get injected with the stuff. Same people who wouldn’t eat a GMO a couple years earlier, now they’re telling their neighbor that they have an ethical obligation to get the injection for fear of infecting someone.
Yeah, the smarty pants will claim that the Big Pharma wasn’t incentivized to keep the SARS-CoV-2 virus from leaking out of the lab, because it was the only way they could get mRNA into needles. But realistically? No way this turns into anything other than a four million lives accident. The USA and China will dig up some pocket change to pay reparations to the dead, changes in policy will come, there will be scientific review committees to supervise these physicians who have no clue how to safely conduct research on that scale.
So four million lives? That’s a rounding error for the pharma researcher. They had to have expected something like this would happen with a lab leak.
But what if those functionalized mRNAs happen to develop a fucked up chirality the way those nanofibers developed dangerous chirality and surface tension in that lab? Do you remember the last time we had anything like that? Yeah it was Thalidomide.
And that, friend is a whole different kettle of fish.
If these genetically-modified vaccines end up producing misshaped babies, or sterile twenty-somethings? That’s no rounding error. Thalidomide with the reversed chirality didn’t butcher rat babies at first either, because the DNA was sufficiently different. Now they feel confident enough that the mRNA vaccines won’t lead to birth defects, because they were tested on humanized mice. But these humanized mice, they were humanized in the immune response, but were they also humanized in the reproductive response? Sure! And if you believe that the reproductive response can be humanized in mice, then the Albert Bridge is for sale, and I’m the guy to sell it to you, I take Polydragon only, thank you.
The human reproductive response can’t be humanized in mice. But in about eight months, the first batch of the babies born to mRNA immunized mothers will begin. There is no question that some of them will be malformed, because some of them are malformed even without the mRNA vaccine. But if a statistically significant number of them are born malformed, that’s not the kind of human catastrophe that even Pharma can manage, because at that point, an entire generation of ticking timebombs will curse the heaven and earth that they can’t enjoy their pregnancy for fear of being “Thalido-Ma-RiNAted.” The kids will call it “marinaded in GMOs.” They’ll hug their malformed babies, and then they’ll go to war with the industry. We can pay reparations for dead people, but nobody has yet found a reliable way to pay reparations for mangled people.
