Ice Cream & Sociopathy

Before even opening my eyes in bed this morning, I felt my heart start to ache.  Images of the friends I grew up with in the poor neighborhoods of Norristown – playing double dutch and stick ball, a bunch of latch-key kids playing on the sidewalks on our way home from the bus stop.  The incredible smell coming from the bread factory whose bread remained a mystery to us.  Summer sun radiating off the asphalt and concrete.  

Ice cream.  

What a rare treat it was for us to get ice cream.  The ice cream truck teased us every afternoon with it’s luring carnival music.  My brother and I would run inside to beg our mom for money, always to be crushed by her telling us that there was no money for ice cream.  I would sob as I watched the other kids’ faces stain with red and blue dye as their rocket-shaped popsicles melted on their lips.  I desperately wanted to taste that crispy chocolate shell and soft, cold vanilla ice cream on the Nutty Buddy, or the magical pink shortcake crumbs on the strawberry eclair pop.

Once in a while, my brother and I had somehow saved up some change, even pooling our money, so we could make the all-important purchase.  Then, when the ice cream man started down our block, I would have to stop him, while my brother would run as fast as he could to the 2rd floor apartment, retrieve the carefully stashed coins, and then run back down to the truck so we could get our treat.  Sometimes, though, the driver was impatient, and even as I pleaded for him to wait, he’d pull away before my brother got back with the funds.  Imagine the tears and the ache in my broken little 5-year-old heart.  That ice-cream man was cruel.

Ice cream.

It’s what every kid on the block longed for.  Sure, maybe we didn’t all have dads, maybe our moms worked long hours and we were watched by abusive or imcompetent older siblings.  Maybe we never got to own new clothes or name-brand toys, but we were mostly unaware of those unmet needs.  It was ice cream that was what was on our minds.

I laid in bed this morning, the rising summer sun so intense that just a sliver coming through the curtains lit up the whole room.  I thought about the heat of that apartment where I grew up.  Our block never whirred with the hum of air conditioners, but buzzed with the sound of box fans, tring to cool ourselves off by speeding up the hot air.  I think about the kids who are still in these neighborhoods – hot and sweaty, playing on sidewalks as heat waves rise off the street.  They still long for ice cream, just like I did almost 40 years ago.  I lament about how these latch-key, sibling-watched kids are such easy targets for the government-pharmaceutical vaccine agenda.  How these authorities have dealt the cards in a way that coerces these children into medical experimentation.  These powerful entities with seemingly endless funding want to get their shots into these little black arms, and they can give away truckloads of ice cream to make it happen.  If necessary, they will even raise the incentives, and offer much more than ice cream.  Amazon gift cards, Zoo passes – even a raffle to win the really big prizes!  Oh, the wide-eyes of the dreamers who imagine their name being called for those big winnings!  The irrational imaginings of how that will entirely change their lives!

In Philadelphia, where CHILDREN have the authority to CONSENT TO VACCINES WITHOUT PARENTAL CONSENT,or even their knowledge, all it takes to run a successful vaccine campaign is a tent full of needles and a chest full of ice cream.  There is no need to bother with actual informed consent.  These kids are 12 to17 years old – an age group famous for making terrible and impulsive decisions.  With their parents cut out of the process, and the huge amounts of money available to push medical experimentation on their little black bodies, the predators have an easy prize. Policy Lab at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia posted flyers that prominently stated, “ “ID is recommended! Consent is not required but you should consult with your parents before coming. Bring them along if you would like!”  It’s all just too easy.

These kids don’t know that the injections they are taking could prevent them from ever having healthy pregnancies.  Or whether the shots could increase their likelihood of getting cancer.  They don’t think about what would happen to their family if they have a stroke, or heart inflammation, and end up hospitalized.  They aren’t worried about whether this shot could lead them to develop diabetes, Lupus, or one of the other autoimmune syndromes already plaguing their loved ones.  They don’t concern their young minds with weighing the risks, and aren’t given the opportunity to contemplate the fact that these shots actually offer NO BENEFIT to them. Nothing other than the free treats and entertainment. 

They are poor kids who want ice cream.

Easy targets.

Just like always.

The studies available prove that COIVD-19 vaccines offer NO BENEFIT to children. 

How the HELL did we get to a point where bribing poor kids into taking an experimental pharmaceutical product that offers them NO BENEFIT and has NEVER been used in humans before is socially acceptable?  I mean, rationally speaking, doesn’t that sound kind of insane to you?

This is not just shoddy public health policy – it’s straight up SOCIOPATHIC.

I’m pleading with parents, policy-makers, community members, church leaders, school teachers – ANYONE who has a heart for these kids – read the science and follow the money, don’t blindly trust the media and marketing.  We must advocate for these children.