A Critique of COVID Vaccine Marketing and Pandemic Policies

They needed four presidents.

Think about that. Four. I don't recall. I, I, I, I, I, I, I don't recall.

I, I, I don't recall. A hundred seventy-four times.

I, I, I don't recall.

Under oath, on the record, in the hall. I, I, I don't recall.

I, I, I, I, I, I don't recall.

Uh, uh, uh. They had to get four presidents to sell us it with that.

Bush, Obama, Clinton, Carter, sleeves up, cameras take a lap.

Ad council, half a billion dollars in the ad.

Called it It's Up to You, then spent five hundred million on the ask.

If it's up to me, why'd it take four presidents to convince me?

I never seen a cure that needed marketing.

Penicillin ain't have a jingle. Nobody danced for insulin.

Donuts, Krispy Kreme, free every day, just show the card.

Hey. Beer joints for jabs. Free fries, free ride, free anything you want.

Mayor of New York held a hamburger up to the lens.

Think of this when you think of vaccination.

Then the man go, "Mm." Shake Shack for your bloodstream.

Step right up, young man. Governor of Ohio put a million dollars on the wire.

Vax-a-million, five drawings, five winners.

Roll the sleeve and spin the wheel. Since when does a thing that works need a jackpot to make it real?

Nurses dancing in formation down the hospital hall, on the clock.

Same building told a daughter she could watch her father through the glass.

Concert vax live, superstars they staging.

And a chaplain on an iPad doing last rites to an empty room.

That's not medicine, that's a campaign. And a campaign is what you run when the product can't carry its own name.

I don't recall.

I don't recall. A hundred seventy-four times.

I, I, I don't recall. Yo. Twenty-second of March, twenty-twenty.

Government document on file. S-B-I behavioral scientists advising, staging, writing, signed off.

And the line, read the line out loud. "The perceived level of personal threat needs to be increased among those who are complacent using hard-hitting emotional messaging."

That's not a theory. That's not a man in a basement with a chart.

That's a government committee writing down the plan to work your heart.

They didn't leak it, they published it, 'cause the safest place to keep a secret is a document nobody reads.

Don't tell me it's a conspiracy. It's a PDF, it's a footnote, it's a source.

The conspiracy theory is that nobody planned it.

Safe. That safe and effective, safe and effective.

Say it like a prayer. Say it like a jingle till it's furniture, till it's aired.

And the FDA come back in twenty-twenty-five and add a line, myocarditis, male sixteen to twenty-five, on the label.

Took four years. So which word moved? Was it safe?

Was it effective? Was it and? Nah, the word that moved was the one you never said. Unknown.

Six feet apart, where'd the number come from? Say it plain.

It sorta just appeared. Your words on the transcript, under oath.

And we built a whole country on it. Closed the school, closed the door.

Six feet on the tape across the floor. Six feet at the funeral they wouldn't let a family hold no more.

Six feet when my mother was dying and you would not let me through that door.

And she still went six feet down alone behind a window in the ward.

I'm not asking if it worked, I'm asking where it came from.

And the man who ran it says it sorta just appeared.

And in the same breath, "I, I don't recall."

Masks don't work. Mask twice. Don't travel. Travel's fine.

Stay inside. Six feet, no data. I, I don't recall.

Dead end for the virus. Breakthrough, boost 'em all.

Every time the story flipped, the certainty stayed the same.

That ain't science moving forward. That's a man protecting the name.

I don't recall. I, I, I, I, I don't recall. A hundred seventy-four times.

I, I, I don't recall.

Under oath, on the record, in the hall.

I don't recall. I don't recall. I don't recall.

Yo, yo. Attacks on me are attacks on science.

June twenty-one. Nah, chief, you ain't the method.

You the man that held the funding gun. Science is a room where you get proved wrong.

You made it a jersey, stitched your name on it, wore it way too long.

January twenty-five, a pardon come down the wire.

Preemptive, no charge, no docket, no trial, no fire.

So if the man ain't done a thing, what's a pardon even for?

That's the loudest thing you never said.

That's the sound of a closing door. You needed four presidents.

You needed half a billion dollars. You needed donuts, a concert, a dancing nurse.

You needed a mayor with a hamburger and a governor with a jackpot.

You needed a government paper on how to make a man afraid.

You needed all of that to sell me something you said was safe.

Ask yourself, what needs that much selling?