Perigo's Perspective: On Keeping One's Head and Reclaiming One's Humanity – 25 May 2023

In his masterly poem, If, Rudyard Kipling stipulates a number of prerequisites for achieving the status of manhood:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

Keeping your head when all about you are losing theirs is an especially exacting challenge in this age of Mass Formation Psychosis, when the spreading of hysteria by evil totalitarian politicians seems to be the easiest thing in the world to pull off. The Woke-Fascist education establishment, the child-molesters of the mind, have done an immaculate job of turning millennials into moronnials and following up with Gen Z (Z for “Zombies”) just itching to conform to, obey and repeat the latest atrocities emanating from the ruling class.

“Orange Man Still Bad” the elites insist, of the most successful American president of our lifetime, knowing that the headless hordes of Trump Derangement Syndromers will take not the blindest bit of notice of last week's Durham Report showing that the only collusion to affect the 2016 and 2020 elections came from the elites themselves: Crooked Hillary, Obamarx, Bribed Beijing Biden, the FBI, the CIA, Fake News … all the usual swampy Sorosian suspects.

“Carbon Dioxide is a pollutant,” they lie as they ban it and order the masses to don masks and breathe their own CO2 back in, thereby exacerbating their delirium.

“Take this vaccine!” they order. “We assure you it's safe and effective, even though we have no idea whether it is or not.” Sheeple, not just zombies and moronnials but of all ages … bullied, panicked and gaslit by the likes of Jacinda Jackboot (shilling for Pfizer and the World Economic Forum) … dutifully comply.

When the evidence then mounts that this mandated jab is both unsafe and ineffective and is not really a vaccine at all, when the deaths and injuries pile up, the elites simply deny this is happening, knowing that the masses whom they have warped into credulous cretins will believe them and not the evidence.

“Anyone who believes the vaccine causes death,” says David Seymour, “is clinging to lunacy.”

Guy Hatchard has done an admirable job of debunking David and showing just who is truly clinging to lunacy.

When challenged by someone who keeps his head while all about him are losing theirs, the evil politicians bare their totalitarian fangs.

Section 10 of NZ's Bill of Rights says:

Every person has the right not to be subjected to medical or scientific experimentation without that person’s consent.

Section 11 says:

Everyone has the right to refuse to undergo any medical treatment.

Will Ryan was quite right! Seymour did not stand up for the Bill of Rights; he advocated SWAT teams going door to door jabbing people. When Will Ryan presses the point, Seymour's headless henchwimmin come screeching to his aid.

One is reminded of Cicero: “Politicians are not born; they are excreted.” Let's expel the excreta and replace them with humans.

Who has that status? Ah, now! Any excuse to read the whole of Rudyard's poem!

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!