Republicans Confirm Anti-Vax Conspiracy Theorist to Run Nation's Health System
(Sorry, I was in a rush so I stole that headline verbatim from Rolling Stone.)
Imagine, if you will, that your very wealthy, incredibly eccentric best friend hires you to light the candles on her birthday cake. That’s it; that’s your entire job: light some candles. She’s going to pay you five figures to do it, too. You don’t have to bake the cake, decorate the cake, or even transport the cake safely from the bakery. You don’t have to hang a single streamer or blow up even one balloon. All you have to do is transform a few wax sticks into delicate, dancing flames and then lead the room in a rousing rendition of the least imaginative tune ever written.
Composer: “I’m finally done. Phew! You ready? Okay, here goes: ‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear [whispers] this is where we’re going to say the birthday person’s name, happy birthday to you.’ So… What do you think?”
Composer’s mom: “That’s so great, honey! I love it. Did you write that all by yourself? I told your father you’re a musical genius. I mean, just, wow.”
Now suppose that in the act of lighting the candles, you accidentally ignite the cake itself, the tablecloth, the dining room curtains, your own hair, and the family cat. Within minutes, just about everything in the house but the candles is ablaze thanks to you and your efforts.
Roughly what do you suppose are the odds—seriously, just spitball here—she’s going to hire you to be the Director of Birthday Pyrotechnics again next year?
(Spoiler: They’re not good.)
If you were responsible for that level of carnage, you’d reasonably expect to be fired, blacklisted, and maybe even escorted out by security. But in the world of modern media? Burn the house down, and you just might get a raise. Case in point: Rolling Stone, which debuted around the time I was born as a music and counterculture rag and served as a literary launchpad for the likes of Hunter S. Thompson and Patti Smith. Somewhere along the way, sadly, the masthead mafia must have realized that clickbait and botched exposés paid way better than album reviews and stirring autobiographical essays, which resulted in bogus, baseless, patently preposterous dispatches like “gunshot victims left waiting as horse de-wormer overdoses overwhelm Oklahoma hospitals.”
In 2017, the Guardian called Rolling Stone a “rock’n’roll magazine turned liberal cheerleader.” If headlines were trophies and I was in charge of distributing them, that one would get its own velvet-lined, temperature-controlled display case.
This one, however, just makes me sad. Make that mad. Fine, a little bit of both.
This is the “news”? An impartial telling of events that have transpired? Could you maybe whip out your thesaurus and find another way to say “conspiracy theorist”? (I think “doomsday oracle” and “grand pooh-bah of paranoia” have a nice ring.) And the GOP “caved to Trump,” did they? I think not, Rolling Stone. I think your take is a thinly-veiled verbal temper tantrum that—unsurprisingly—was penned by a self-styled scribe whose most popular book on Amazon has racked up eleven whole reviews in thirteen years—only one of them glowing. (Moms really are the best! And yes, I can be petty. It’s not a crime.)
You almost have to feel sorry for liberal cheerleaders media right now. Everything they love (DEI, censorship, climate change hysteria, secrets, redactions, mandates, men in women’s sports, an endless money fountain pouring straight into Ukraine, unfettered immigration, eleventy thousand vaccines by the time a baby is nine days old) is going up in smoke. Their anger is palpable. They’ve been told that Kennedy—just like Trump and Musk—is the enemy. He’s a dangerous, unstable, science-denying wackadoodle; an anti-vax, conspiracy-peddling threat to society; a tin foil hat-wearing, party-abandoning, 5G freak of nature that now, unfortunately, cannot be stopped.
On the other, farthest end of the spectrum, you’ve got vaccine-skeptical freedom fighters like Peggy Hall—a.k.a. The Healthy American, for crying out loud—dissing Kennedy for not standing on the world’s biggest soap box and broadcasting the dangers of all vaccines before he was even confirmed, a stance that (in case Ms. Hall wasn’t aware) would have obliterated any hope of today’s magnificent confirmation.
Thankfully, and likely because the majority of the actual journalists I follow are of sound like mind, my inbox and social media feeds have been positively flooded with congratulatory tributes, tentative sentiments of hope and relief, and more than a few ALL CAPS WHOOPS of unapologetic, unbridled joy. Like it—or believe it—or not, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is going to Make America Healthy Again.
Pinch me. No, seriously.
America is about to be red-pilled, big time, and I am here for it. The man who penned a blistering expose on Anthony Fauci (which, for comparative purposes, currently has 26,235 reviews, nearly all of them glowing) and in doing so exposed decades of criminal corruption, rampant collusion between Big Pharma and government agencies, and the devastating consequences of unchecked power in public health, is now in charge of public health.
CAN I GET AN AMEN?
MAHA is more than a slogan; it’s a movement—powered by moms and made up of Americans (yes, lots of dads, too) who don’t want to feed their children hormone-laced mystery meat with a side of gaslighting, pump them full of unnecessary, toxic pharmaceuticals, or teach them that their country is an irredeemable dumpster fire. They want to reclaim the power to make their own health decisions without some bureaucrat breathing down their neck, insisting that the only path to well-being is through endless prescriptions, processed sludge, and a wellness plan that mysteriously ends with them being sicker, poorer, and somehow still blamed for it. And for once—finally!—they’ve got a guy in their corner who actually sees the lumbering elephant in the national room. You know, the one wearing a “Hello, My Name Is Chronic Disease” nametag while munching on a stack of Lunchables. Bobby isn’t going to pretend that our food supply is fine, our kids are just naturally anxious, and our healthcare system is a benevolent, life-saving institution rather than a trillion-dollar industry that develops “cures” for the illnesses it creates. He’s got receipts, he’s got resolve, and unlike the usual Washington crowd, he doesn’t need a GPS and a focus group to figure out which way the wind is blowing.
In an emotional [*for me] speech at his swearing-in ceremony, Bobby said, “President Trump has promised to restore the American dream in this country. A healthy person has a thousand dreams; a sick person only has one. Sixty percent of our population has only one dream: that they get better.”
So yeah, the MAHA crowd is thrilled—giddy, I’d call it. The kind of giddy that only comes from knowing that, for the first time in forever, someone in power is actually willing to poke the sacred bears of Big Pharma, Big Food, and Big Bureaucracy instead of just fattening them up with taxpayer cash and then leaving them to hibernate.
This part is for the skeptics in the room *Hi, Vee!*:
Now, is Bobby going to have to put his money where his mouth is? Of course he is! Will that necessitate possibly slowly but also definitively putting a halt not just to any and all Covid vaccine mandates but the entire out-of-control CDC vaccine schedule as well? Indeed it will. Must he admit, finally and loudly for the especially angry folks in the back *Hi, Ms. Hall!* that Operation Warp Speed was an unmitigated disaster? No question about it. I, for one, believe that the guy who took on Monsanto, exposed Fauci, and has gone toe-to-toe with the most powerful industries on the planet—without so much as breaking a sweat or issuing a single canned apology—isn’t just capable of and eager to do these things, he’s going to do them.
And you have my word, right here in writing, that if I’m wrong and he fails spectacularly to make good on his MAHA promises, I will publicly flog myself and save my amazing subscribers—and that one random jackass who likes to pop in just to troll—the trouble.
If the media thought they’d had enough of this conspiracy-theory, anti-vax, healthy-America nonsense already, just wait until they realize they’re not getting another turn with the matches. This time, the grown-ups are in charge. No more setting everything on fire and then demanding a promotion for putting it out. No more pretending the house isn’t burning while they lecture the rest of us on fire safety. MAHA just walked in with a fire extinguisher, a fresh cake, and a brand-new set of candles—this time, handled by someone who knows which end of the match to strike.
♫ Happy confirmation day to you, happy confirmation day to you,
happy confirmation day, dear subscribers, happy confirmation day to you. ♫
Tell me how stoked you are you feel about Bobby’s appointment in the comments.
Thank you for calling out Peggy Hall. She tried to slander ICAN several months ago for using language within a FOIA request and subsequent legislation that was designed to be a covert operation because she was too shortsighted to understand political strategy. She refused to come on the show and explain her position. She came out of nowhere during COVID in California. Those of us who fought for YEARS when CA was passing SB277, SB276 and others had never heard of her. Suddenly, she’s an “expert” and smearing everyone else who put in the legwork for decades while simultaneously profiting off the injured. The fact that she’s now going after Bobby is yet another red flag in her (now accumulated) circus tent full of them. She can fade into obscurity while the OG MAHA moms get to work. And that’s putting it nicely.
Man, when I heard yesterday that RFK, Jr. had actually been confirmed, I immediately thanked the Lord for continuing to answer our prayers! I agree with you, he WILL do what he says he will do, just like Trump and the rest of these patriotic appointees. MAHA!