Thank you for all the hard work by @gdemaneuf who researched the COIs and @angoffinet and other #DRASTIC members who helped advise on this decentralised mass email campaign.
We have 7 days!
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"Assessments were deliberately manufactured & used to discredit some of our nation’s bravest & impede access to medical care. As was the case with other high-visibility intel assessments (Covid-19?), it fell far short of analytic integrity standards"
3. "Today’s action by @TulsiGabbard is a glimmer of hope for our nation’s intelligence officers, service members, & diplomats who have defended this country in austere locations and subsequently had the nation they served turn its back on them"
1. Based on the Parsi calendar conversion and the text of the Persian Mar-Nāmeh (THE BOOK FOR TAKING OMENS FROM SNAKES), seeing a snake today means you should not look at it, otherwise you will soon have a cause to be sorry.
2. Rule 7 cruelly says:
"If you see a snake on the day of Merdad (Amerdid) do not look at it, (or otherwise) you will soon have a cause to be sorry"
According to the Parsees, today is Roj Amardad (also spelled Merdad or Amerdāt).
3. If you see it, how can you not look at it?
The Book for Taking Omens from Snakes (30 Nov 1892)
By President-Surgeon-Major G. Waters.
"The custom of taking omens from snakes seems to be
very ancient. The people of antiquity associated with the snake various peculiar ideas"
Across the centuries & the tracks,
Where bone & muscle give their all,
To answer to the master's call.
And in the pocket, pouch, or hand,
A secret comfort rules the land.
A cheap escape from sweat & pain,
To dull the mind or spike the brain.
And laborers crowd through palace doors,
To drown the shift in burning gin.
While in the slums, for just a penny,
The laudanum drops are shared by many,
To soothe the cough, the cramp, the tear,
And quiet the children crying there.
3. Across the sea, the jungle steams
Where coolies chased their broken dreams.
The shovel bites, the fever burns,
Until the evening sun returns.
Then in the bunkhouse, dark & small,
Sweet smoke rises on the wall;
The opium pipe is lit & blessed,
A pain-free haze, a perfect rest!
@YouTube @Vimeo @rumblevideo @waybackmachine @googledrive @Gemini @grok @CellPressNews @JAMA_current @Nature @NEJM @PLOS @embojournal @VirologyJ @biorxivpreprint @medrxivpreprint 3. One big one I forgot...
@X
That made a vast difference, helping us coordinate our work through chat groups and share our work and keep the public and journalists and U.S. government organizations and commissions informed of the latest updates.
Did ye sing, John Ball,
as they pulled you apart?
A poet speaking for us all
from England’s tattered heart.
What a price, John Ball,
for singing to us all.
When hope came as a crime
in simple rhythm and rhyme.
2. He who sings a blackbird’s song
to a starved & battered throng
with a message to stand strong
would never last long.
So we’ll sing to John Ball
for the helpless & hopeless,
the voiceless, forgotten,
buried beneath the mansions
of Lords; misbegotten
mortar, stones & chandeliers
3. the scarlet grave goods
of England’s preening peers.
We’ll sing in simple rhymes
and hope for better times,
when those barons’ grandchildren,
so viscous, reptilian,
are thrown from their seat
in ignominious defeat.