Until now, what I’m about to tell you would have been easily dismissed as a conspiracy theory. It’s the kind of story that you might expect from some extreme fringe blogger… the kind of story that never appears in the mainstream media. Only today, it did. And it’s not a conspiracy theory, either.
CNN is reporting this evening that the U.S. military is gearing up to get involved in the H1N1 swine flu outbreak widely expected to strike the U.S. this fall. As CNN reports, “The U.S. military wants to establish regional teams of military personnel to assist civilian authorities in the event of a significant outbreak of the H1N1 virus this fall, according to Defense Department officials.” (http://edition.cnn.com/2009/US/07/28/military.swine.flu/)
When it comes to the U.S. military, the word “assist,” of course, could mean almost anything. Typically, the U.S. military offers assistance at the end of a rifle. This “assistance” could mean assisting with quarantines, assisting with rounding up infected people or assisting with arresting and imprisoning people who resist vaccine shots.
Just to make it even more interesting, this operation will include “personnel from all branches of the military” and it will involve cooperation with FEMA — the Federal Emergency Management Agency. FEMA is the group of geniuses who handled the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. They’re the ones who confiscated firearms from law-abiding citizens defending their own homes, then thrust people into toxic temporary housing that caused neurological symptoms and breathing problems.
Internationally, FEMA is known as the Federal Emergency Laughing Stock Administration. But now, with H1N1 swine flu, FEMA will be backed by the power of highly-trained, heavily-armed military personnel.
There’s a knock on your door. A peek through the window reveals two young soldiers in urban camo fatigues gripping M16 rifles slung across their chests. In front of them, an official-looking doctor person sports an N95 mask and carries a clipboard thick with ruffled papers.
Knock knock. “Is anyone home?”
One of the soldiers catches a glimpse of you peering through a sliver of curtain covering the living room window. “I’ve got movement.” He tightens his grip on his rifle and elbows the soldier next to him. “Someone’s home. Knock again.”
Knock KNOCK. “We’re here from the pandemic response team,” insists the doc. “We’re here to help. Open up or we’ll be forced to come in.”
Reluctantly, you inch towards the door and grip the doorknob with damp, sweaty hands. Your pulse pounds hard as you crack open the door.
But the doctor isn’t in front of your door anymore. It’s one of the soldiers — the larger one — and he wedges his foot between your door and its frame, prying it open and forcing his intimidating self into your doorway. “We’re with FEMA. Please step away from the door.”
“Our records show you haven’t received the swine flu vaccine yet,” squeaks the doctor from behind the bulk of the domineering soldier now squarely positioned in front of you. “We’re here to administer your vaccine.”
“I don’t want a vaccine,” you protest. “They’re not safe.”
The soldier chuckles, blurts out, “They’re as safe as the U.S. government says they are.”
The doctor peers out from behind his military companion and makes eye contact. “Sir, as you well know, vaccines have been required for all U.S. residents since President Obama’s emergency pandemic declaration last month. Please extend your arm and we’ll be on our way.”