This Diaper Report concerns a letter I received from the Swiss Embassy regarding Switzerland’s sickness psychosis.
This once-fiercely independent little country has become like almost every other country, hymning the prayers of the new religion. I am informed that I may not enter the country without Proof of Jab – or a “negative” test result for a sickness I haven’t got.
And of course, Windel muss sein.
This saddens me, as someone who holds a Swiss passport – and dual citizenship. My mother is Swiss; she was born there – even though she moved here. Most of my ancestors are also Swiss. I have traveled to Switzerland many times in the past. It is – it was – a wonderful place.
All in the past, now.
The letter I received from the embassy read like the instructions formerly handed out to newly convicted felons as they are frog-marched back to their holding cells, prior to being shipped to the Big House:
Mandatory for all airline passengers traveling from the USA to Switzerland:
· Electronic form for all incoming travelers (no exceptions)
· Present one of the following medical document (if older than 16 years):
– a COVID-19 vaccination certificate stating that you were fully vaccinated within the last 12 months with an approved vaccine
– a negative COVID-19 PCR test, taken no more than 72 hours (time of specimen collection) before departure.
– a positive COVID-19 test result of a test taken within the last 5 months and a COVID-19 recovery medical certificate…
I replied to the Swiss consular officer, Anette Moser, as follows:
I doubt I’ll receive a reply.
No matter how evil.
It is known that almost no one is getting sick who isn’t already ill – and those people can reduce their risk by losing weight, eating better and exercising. The very elderly have always been at higher risk. What is expected now of those who aren’t is essentially the same as insisting that everyone carry a cane – since some people need them to be able to walk without risking a fall.
And – please – spare me the nonsense-talk about how you can’t “spread” decalcified bones and wobbly legs.
You also can’t spread an illness you haven’t got.
Obsessing over what people might have – that you might get – is the textbook definition of hypochondria. Normally, this mental illness is sad. It diminishes the life of the afflicted person, who lives in morbid fear of everything – and everyone. The hypochondriac is terrified of other people and shuns their “germs.” He washes his hands obsessively, wears rubber gloves and – yup – surgical masks.
This becomes pathological when it is normalized. It becomes evil when it is required.
I am now a man without countries. America feels foreign to me – and I am no longer welcome in the country my ancestors hail from.
So be it.
Let all of us dispossessed gather together to form a new country – even if it is only our own county. Islands of sanity – and decency – in the midst of madness. Each piece of ground we hold becomes a launching ground for gaining more ground as well as a refuge for those fleeing rotten ground.
Sometimes, it’s necessary to tear up the paper and start over, from scratch.
. . . .
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