Keywords
Have any of you noticed that certain words you use will immediately send you straight into the doghouse? If you’re having a conversation with the usual suspects—the compliant, agenda-following types—and you accidentally let slip “vaccine,” “chemtrails,” “open borders,” “CBDC,” “15-minute cities,” “lab leak,” “excess mortality,” or (God forbid) “moon landing” or “viruses have never been proven to exist,” an alarm instantly blares in the poor sheep’s head: DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER! The eyes glaze over, the jaw sets, and the mental gate slams shut with a clang you can almost hear.
You might be safe if you tiptoe around the topic in the most innocuous, sheep-approved way possible. But since you’re a shrew, that almost never happens. One wrong syllable and you’re done. Before you can finish your sentence, you’re dumped onto the “do not play with” list, ghosted, or—if it’s family or a close friend—physically ejected from the room. Sometimes it takes just one word. Sometimes a short phrase like “anti-vax,” “Covid hoax,” “Great Reset,” or “Klaus Schwab was right about owning nothing” is enough to trigger total excommunication.
These days, people (and you know exactly who I’m talking about) have been exquisitely trained to treat these words and phrases as completely outside the realm of rational discussion. They carry the same emotional charge that “child molester,” “Nazi,” or “cannibal” used to carry. Actually, no—those old taboo words still allowed a sliver of curiosity back in the day. At a 1960s cocktail party, if someone whispered that the quiet guy in the corner once claimed he heard voices telling him to strangle prostitutes, people would lean in, fascinated and horrified in equal measure. Today? Say “mRNA spike protein persistence” and you’re treated like you just confessed to eating babies for breakfast.
It doesn’t matter if you’re otherwise respectable, highly educated, or a bona fide world expert. It doesn’t matter if you’ve spent your life saving lives, publishing peer-reviewed papers, or simply thinking clearly while everyone else was clapping for Biden. Utter one forbidden keyword and you’re instantly transformed into a drooling, deplorable, tinfoil-hatted idiot who probably talks to street corner mailboxes. You’re shunned, shamed, cancelled, de-platformed, de-banked, and—if they could get away with it—de-personed.
One of the strangest parts about all this is that whatever you were about to say on vaccines, digital IDs, climate lockdowns, or the erosion of bodily autonomy might be perfectly reasonable, measured, and backed by mountains of data. Meanwhile, the same people clutching their pearls and fainting in coils will swallow the most ludicrous, physics-defying nonsense without a hiccup:
- A loose paper mask stops an aerosolized virus the way a chain-link fence stops a mosquito.
- Six feet of air is a magical force field, but five feet eleven inches is certain death.
- Biological men dominate women’s sports as long as they say they “feel like a woman.”
- Printing six trillion dollars in eighteen months has zero effect on inflation—it’s just a coincidence that prices doubled.
- Open borders with ten million unvetted military-age males crossing is “compassionate” and in no way a planned invasion.
- Eating bugs and owning nothing will make you happy while the elite fly private jets to climate conferences.
- A cold snap in winter actually proves global warming—because “weather is not climate,” except when it’s hot.
- “Trust the science,” while the science was being rewritten daily by Pfizer press releases.
This isn’t critical thinking; this is classic post-hypnotic suggestion. In stage hypnosis, the hypnotist plants a trigger: “Whenever you hear the word ‘cucumber,’ you will stand up and bark like a seal.” The subject laughs it off during the show, but later the word is spoken and—bam—they’re on all fours, barking away. Society has undergone a mass hypnotic induction. The trigger words are anything that threatens the narrative. Hear “informed consent” in a questioning tone and the programmed response fires: outrage, disgust, moral superiority, social exile. No evaluation required. No curiosity permitted—just the conditioned reflex.
Common sense checked out years ago. Once upon a time, people at least pretended to size up the speaker before dismissing the message. If a dishevelled homeless man on the corner was screaming about microchips in the water to a lamppost, you’d keep walking—fair enough. But if a Harvard-trained virologist with decades of experience, or a former Pfizer vice-president, or a statistician who actually understands all-cause mortality data said the same thing (only calmly, with citations), people used to listen. They might disagree, but they’d listen.
Today, credentials are meaningless the moment a forbidden keyword escapes your lips. Dr. Robert Malone (who literally invented mRNA technology) says the shots should be paused for more study? Crank! Dr. Peter McCullough, one of the most published cardiologists in history, cites excess deaths? Dangerous conspiracy theorist! Professor Sucharit Bhakdi, world-renowned microbiologist? Cancelled! Thousands of doctors and scientists around the world risk their careers to speak out—and they’re all instantly reduced to the intellectual equivalent of the lamppost guy.
Even ordinary people get the treatment. I’ve seen lifelong friendships detonate over a single dinner-table mention of “vaccine mandates.” Perfectly sane, kind, formerly curious humans turn into frothing witch-hunters the moment “early treatment” or “natural immunity” is uttered. They don’t argue the data. They don’t ask for sources. They simply hear the trigger and react.
This isn’t organic cultural drift. You don’t accidentally train eight billion people to have identical Pavlovian meltdowns over the same thirty words. It’s deliberate, top-down, relentlessly reinforced by every screen, classroom, newsroom, and corporate HR department on the planet. The list of forbidden keywords grows longer every month, and the trance gets deeper.
So next time you feel the urge to speak truth at the family gathering, remember: you can probably get away with “pass the potatoes,” but the second you say “all-cause mortality post-2021,” you’re done. You’ll be eating in the garage with the dog—who, incidentally, never fell for a single second of this nonsense and still has more critical thinking skills than most university graduates.