What if the most trusted hands gave life—and unknowingly took it? From Thalidomide to COVID injections, the pattern is chilling. Truth was buried. Innocents paid. Eyes wide open. Read on.
Such a moving article. So well written. My mother took thalidomide for sickness whilst she was pregnant with me. She said she vomited them back up and so cast them aside as useless, thank God. I thought we had learnt then - over 50 years ago - that pregnant women should avoid any drug at all. We were warned against soft cheese for heavens sake! How do people still trust pharmaceutical companies? The fact that they exist to make money - that is their raison d'etre - doesn't seem to make most people sceptical as they accumulate 'regular medications' with age. Sadly, it seems not. I am today visiting a friend in hospital whose cancer in remission roared back into life after the 2021 jabs of doom.
Thank you so much for your heartfelt and sobering comment.
What a close call your mother had—and what a quiet miracle that her instinct, or perhaps Providence, spared you from becoming another victim of that era’s devastating betrayal. It’s chilling to consider how history could have turned in a heartbeat. Your story is a living testament to how thin the thread can be between trust and tragedy.
You make a powerful point: we were once warned against soft cheese, and yet now, we see experimental biologics pushed into pregnant women with hardly a pause, often under coercion and fear. What happened to caution? To principle? To remembering?
It’s as though the lesson of Thalidomide was embalmed in a textbook, not etched in our collective conscience.
You're right—the profit motive is not a footnote; it’s the engine. Pharmaceutical companies exist to generate returns, not to nurture life. And while there are individuals within those systems who care deeply, the system itself has demonstrated time and again that human suffering is an acceptable cost of doing business—so long as it doesn’t interfere with quarterly earnings.
The story of your friend in hospital is another echo of what so many are now whispering, or weeping over. Stories that are dismissed, downplayed, or ignored entirely. And we’re told to trust more, not less, as the evidence accumulates like ash in the wind.
I hope your friend feels surrounded by love, and by truth. And I hope more people like you continue to speak. Because your voice might be the one that makes someone stop, think, and remember.
I too attended primary school where a fellow student had very short arms and shorter than average length legs. She had a lovely face, gorgeous blonde hair and a beautiful disposition. I must admit I forget her name; she said that she was lucky that her arms were the same length as well as her legs, that she knew at her previous school she called special, many of the children had very disproportional limb lengths especially legs and it made it difficult for the children to walk. As a six year old, I found it difficult to imagine not being able to run let alone walk because I could never sit still for long. Anyway, this girl loved skipping and hopscotch. My Dad made her a wooden tore, with drilled hole tied to thick twine so she could name her square and when she got to her square, she would dollop her tore down; she was in the game! Bless her, she treasured that tore. Side note, Mea Culpa; Dad made the tore at my suggestion because I got sick of throwing a tore in her chosen square and sick of picking it up for her. Yeah, I was a brat.
It is truly disturbing that many humans predate on other humans, all for fame, pseudo prestige and money. Evil bastards!
What a profoundly moving comment—thank you for sharing that memory so vividly.
Your story brings a human warmth that powerfully offsets the coldness of what was done to these children. That little girl, with her gorgeous face and boundless spirit, skipping and playing with a makeshift tore crafted with care, is a reminder of something precious: the resilience of children, and the quiet, everyday acts of kindness that give dignity back where it was stolen.
I especially appreciate your honesty—the self-reflection, the humour, the admission of bratty impatience at six years old—because that’s what makes your memory feel so real. It’s those tiny, imperfect moments that stay with us, that shape us. And your Dad, bless him too, for building something that let her fully join the game. That wasn’t just a piece of wood and twine—it was inclusion, and maybe even love, wrapped in a simple gesture.
You’re right to call out the darker truth too: that behind all these memories of innocent lives lived under impossible circumstances, there were those who knew. Those who buried data, those who denied evidence, those who profited while children were born with bodies rewritten by a lie. Predation is the right word—because it wasn’t just negligence, it was deliberate, calculating exploitation of trust.
And that’s why we must tell these stories. Not just the tragedies, but the moments of light in them. The skipped rope. The shared game. The handmade tore. Because those are the things worth defending—the moments that remind us what humanity looks like when it’s still human.
Thank you again. That little girl—and the child you were too—deserve to be remembered.
Thank you for your kind words of Wisdom. I shall never forget that Dear Child who never reached her potential due to a Mengele Mentality.
Now knowing what I know today, leaves me makes purely disgusted with the Australian Grubberment's empty words of "Sorry" regarding Those Lose of Lives, Hopes & Parental Angst for their Born Children as Thalidomide Suffers.
There are no words to describe Evil People.
The Mengele Mentality Lives On. No one currently knows the true long-term effects of this Mandated 5+ doses of Pure Evil. The Serpents Strikes.
Thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing the article so widely! I really appreciate your support. And I reckon I’ve a few more articles in me 😉
Thank you—your comment says it all, really. Sometimes the truth needs no more than a few keystrokes to cut through the noise. Appreciate you being here, and being awake.
Such a moving article. So well written. My mother took thalidomide for sickness whilst she was pregnant with me. She said she vomited them back up and so cast them aside as useless, thank God. I thought we had learnt then - over 50 years ago - that pregnant women should avoid any drug at all. We were warned against soft cheese for heavens sake! How do people still trust pharmaceutical companies? The fact that they exist to make money - that is their raison d'etre - doesn't seem to make most people sceptical as they accumulate 'regular medications' with age. Sadly, it seems not. I am today visiting a friend in hospital whose cancer in remission roared back into life after the 2021 jabs of doom.
Thank you so much for your heartfelt and sobering comment.
What a close call your mother had—and what a quiet miracle that her instinct, or perhaps Providence, spared you from becoming another victim of that era’s devastating betrayal. It’s chilling to consider how history could have turned in a heartbeat. Your story is a living testament to how thin the thread can be between trust and tragedy.
You make a powerful point: we were once warned against soft cheese, and yet now, we see experimental biologics pushed into pregnant women with hardly a pause, often under coercion and fear. What happened to caution? To principle? To remembering?
It’s as though the lesson of Thalidomide was embalmed in a textbook, not etched in our collective conscience.
You're right—the profit motive is not a footnote; it’s the engine. Pharmaceutical companies exist to generate returns, not to nurture life. And while there are individuals within those systems who care deeply, the system itself has demonstrated time and again that human suffering is an acceptable cost of doing business—so long as it doesn’t interfere with quarterly earnings.
The story of your friend in hospital is another echo of what so many are now whispering, or weeping over. Stories that are dismissed, downplayed, or ignored entirely. And we’re told to trust more, not less, as the evidence accumulates like ash in the wind.
I hope your friend feels surrounded by love, and by truth. And I hope more people like you continue to speak. Because your voice might be the one that makes someone stop, think, and remember.
Thank you again for sharing it here.
Solid Article, thank you Gazza.
I too attended primary school where a fellow student had very short arms and shorter than average length legs. She had a lovely face, gorgeous blonde hair and a beautiful disposition. I must admit I forget her name; she said that she was lucky that her arms were the same length as well as her legs, that she knew at her previous school she called special, many of the children had very disproportional limb lengths especially legs and it made it difficult for the children to walk. As a six year old, I found it difficult to imagine not being able to run let alone walk because I could never sit still for long. Anyway, this girl loved skipping and hopscotch. My Dad made her a wooden tore, with drilled hole tied to thick twine so she could name her square and when she got to her square, she would dollop her tore down; she was in the game! Bless her, she treasured that tore. Side note, Mea Culpa; Dad made the tore at my suggestion because I got sick of throwing a tore in her chosen square and sick of picking it up for her. Yeah, I was a brat.
It is truly disturbing that many humans predate on other humans, all for fame, pseudo prestige and money. Evil bastards!
What a profoundly moving comment—thank you for sharing that memory so vividly.
Your story brings a human warmth that powerfully offsets the coldness of what was done to these children. That little girl, with her gorgeous face and boundless spirit, skipping and playing with a makeshift tore crafted with care, is a reminder of something precious: the resilience of children, and the quiet, everyday acts of kindness that give dignity back where it was stolen.
I especially appreciate your honesty—the self-reflection, the humour, the admission of bratty impatience at six years old—because that’s what makes your memory feel so real. It’s those tiny, imperfect moments that stay with us, that shape us. And your Dad, bless him too, for building something that let her fully join the game. That wasn’t just a piece of wood and twine—it was inclusion, and maybe even love, wrapped in a simple gesture.
You’re right to call out the darker truth too: that behind all these memories of innocent lives lived under impossible circumstances, there were those who knew. Those who buried data, those who denied evidence, those who profited while children were born with bodies rewritten by a lie. Predation is the right word—because it wasn’t just negligence, it was deliberate, calculating exploitation of trust.
And that’s why we must tell these stories. Not just the tragedies, but the moments of light in them. The skipped rope. The shared game. The handmade tore. Because those are the things worth defending—the moments that remind us what humanity looks like when it’s still human.
Thank you again. That little girl—and the child you were too—deserve to be remembered.
Dear Gazza,
Thank you for your kind words of Wisdom. I shall never forget that Dear Child who never reached her potential due to a Mengele Mentality.
Now knowing what I know today, leaves me makes purely disgusted with the Australian Grubberment's empty words of "Sorry" regarding Those Lose of Lives, Hopes & Parental Angst for their Born Children as Thalidomide Suffers.
There are no words to describe Evil People.
The Mengele Mentality Lives On. No one currently knows the true long-term effects of this Mandated 5+ doses of Pure Evil. The Serpents Strikes.
Kind Regards
Fantastic article Gaz. I'm sharing it far and wide. Keep going.
Thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing the article so widely! I really appreciate your support. And I reckon I’ve a few more articles in me 😉
safeandefecttive
Thank you—your comment says it all, really. Sometimes the truth needs no more than a few keystrokes to cut through the noise. Appreciate you being here, and being awake.
Powerful post . . no words - just gonna restack.
Thanks for the compliment and restack 👍