"Of course, My King. It goes without saying that you're preternaturally policy wise, and I understand quite well that universal vaccination is the only way"... victims of long-covid shouldn't be contradicted.
Foremost in those cases where neurological sequels are to be feared, all the more likely to occur when contamination hits a very down-market kind of mind, last in a long line of lead climbers ascending the parisian marshes. Where else but in France and maybe the UK, Canada and the USA does mediocrity enjoy such an inflated status? Setting sun of the liberal wonderland.
"No problemo Señor Presidente, you ought to be blindly obeyed and, come September I will let you inoculate my grandson with the same sort of snake-oil your predecessors bestowed on my birth in the aftermath of the last hot world war. Right away Dear Sir, we'll follow your Holy 'humeur', all the way to the gallows, if need be; or the guillotine, after you, Mister First"... One should tread lightly around seriously sick, early victims of medicine... his parents, you know, a true tragedy, both of them... physicians. I seriously doubt he'll ever recover from so early an infection... maybe some new research... an international task-force comparing the data between Boris Johnson, Justin Trudeau, Emmanuel Macron will devise some serum... or the simple truth they are really dumb.
"Naturally, precisely as you wish, me too, I'll testify all the way" to send you to the scaffold and make your tribe dearly pay. So did I: long-covid, short story, mostly bull, if I may; directly related to the near-impossibility for medical practitioners to have a meaningful relationship with patients they are trained to see as raw meat... "Yes Sir, totally devoid of any understanding of what is at bay while you're watching, you shining lighthouse of the latest days."
Otherwise, obviously, no. No way I'm let myself be shot by Bill Gates's running dog (you might have missed our former caudillo Nicolas Sarkozy advertising on Twitter for Amazon's Audible, really tasty frolicking with Grandeur), that I'll yield to the whims of a bunch of corrupt morons... unless I get caught by sniper fire or a drone!
And, should it help anyone make a choice, I further testify that I am 72, with a prescription since 2008 for 24/7 medical oxygen without which I couldn't keep living up in the Pyrenees. In the last seven years I fought off four pneumonias (direct consequence of my foolishly following the prescription of yet another genius of the lung), all the while testing the many miracles of modern medicine in the hands of worse dummies than me. Last september (2020) I beat covid-19, without antibiotics (but my usual COPD treatment), in about a month, and it took me until spring to come back to my usual sickly self.
"I will not eat no more to please thee, ô prince of my soul", lord of the plagues, a truly giant asshole, meekly strung very 'profond' with a hard-on for delirium. And although not the one and only, far from it, or even the main reason to refuse serving as guinea fowl for flying turds, this is the first and sufficient: don't try to shove it down my throat, I ain't no duck to be force-fed by some farmer from the swamp.
"I am sorry, Your Grace, it might not be the best idea. O bewitching Warlord of the Quagmire, listen to your humble servant, see what happened to him. Do you want to harvest millions of a younger kind, another genetic engineering experiment gone awry, enraged at knowing what you did to them, to their body, their minds, their feelings, their children: festering on their youth so that pigs may thrive.
- Maybe you shouldn't."

La France, ai-je entendu dire, culpabiliserait d'avoir coupé la tête de son roi aux temps héroïques de la révolution. Et j'ai même entendu certains avancer que pour expier cette ignominie la meilleure preuve de repentance, devant l'histoire et la communauté internationale, serait de guillotiner un président. Ou deux, ou trois; depuis 1793 ça en fait des intérêts composés! Et les économies qu'on ferait!


S'il n'est plus à prouver que nos aïeux n'étaient pas aussi uniformément Gaulois que le voulait certaine habitude de pensée, il serait temps quand même que l'on reconnaisse que les ancêtres de nos actuels maîtres étaient Francs, venus d'outre-Rhin, salauds d'immigrants. Francs, complètement. Ce que l'on observe sans peine chez leurs descendants qui se font appeler "Nos élus" par les électeurs, "vos représentants" par les journalistes et "leurs" parlementaires par les étrangers. Nos, Vos, Leurs par tout le monde en somme!"