Part two, the Virus speaks; the nature of reality


by Jon Rappoport, No More Fake News:

This time, I caught up with the coronavirus coming out of his psychiatrist’s office in New York. He spotted me and waved half-heartedly. He didn’t look happy.

What’s wrong? I asked him.

My therapist thinks I’m crazy. I told him I’m quite certain I’m nothing more than a collective idea in the minds of many people. He said that’s a clear sign of psychosis.

In other words, he thinks you’re really real?


Yes. I thanked him for that. I said his faith was helping to keep me in existence. He didn’t appreciate the comment.

But many people believe you’re real. So what’s the problem?

The vaccine. Everybody’s focused on it now. They’re not thinking about me so much. On a scale of one to a hundred, where a hundred is a majestic amount of attention focused on me, I’d say I’m hovering around 70 to 74. That means I’m starting to blink in and out. There are moments when I go blank. Yesterday, I was sitting in on a CIA briefing and I perished for a few minutes.

I see. Well, what can you do? I mean, since you’re nothing more than a collective idea, when people stop focusing on you…

People are fickle. I gave them so much. Fear, the lockdowns, all sorts of problems. I did what I could to make life interesting, but obviously it wasn’t enough.

That’s show business. “What have you done for me lately?” Lots of stars fade out. They make two bad movies and they can’t get arrested. They’re begging for a cameo on an episode of Hawaii Five-O.

I tried to explain that to my agent—Fauci—but he said he was too busy fending off personal attacks.

The last time we spoke, you said you were ready to sacrifice yourself and admit you were just a collective idea, because you didn’t want to hurt people.

I know. But SAYING that and meaning it are two different things, especially when your back is against the wall and you realize you’re going to STOP EXISTING ALTOGETHER.


I’ll do anything to survive. I’ll claim I have sixteen different deadly proteins and fifty mutant strains. I’ll say I persist on surfaces for up to six months.

You’re ready to mount an all-out campaign on your own behalf?

Who do you think originally pushed the lab-leak theory and recently revived it? I’m trying.

So why are you telling me all this? When I publish our conversation, some people are going to have even less faith in you.

I’m beginning to think history and legacy are my only options. People in the future will remember me. That’s all I can count on. And if this conversation adds a footnote to that history…

Can you recall how you were born?

I have a faint recollection of two Chinese virologists in Wuhan speculating about what would happen if they claimed a cluster of local pneumonia cases—stemming from the deadly air pollution in the city—actually were the result of a new virus. I think that was the moment. One virologist said, “We can call in the CDC. They always say it’s a new virus.”

And did you feel anything then?

Surprise. I EXISTED. It was amazing. Bang. Just like that, I was born.

As an idea.

Yes. And I felt strong.

Did you realize what had happened?

You mean, did I know I was nothing more than the beginning of a collective shared idea? No. Of course not. That piece of wisdom came later. During the first month of my life, I did know I was riding on the back of men who had power and were thirsty for more. They were promoting me to the public, because they saw they could use me to CONTROL the population to an extraordinary degree.

Did you appreciate their help?

Of course. But at the same time, I found them to be…distasteful creatures. Hanging around men like Bill Gates, Klaus Schwab, Fauci, Andrew Cuomo…it’s not exactly a party.

I can imagine. Did you and Bill ever have a conversation?

No, not really. He’s wired in a way that prevents authentic interaction. He’s always hungry and he has to eat. He eats information. If I didn’t know better, I would say he’s a machine.

I assume, in your travels, you’ve met other “entities” who are also nothing more than collective ideas held in many minds.

Yes. We’ve had pleasant talks. But it always comes down to, “How long do you think you’re going to exist? When are you going to disappear? Will people still believe in you next year?” That sort of thing.

But it isn’t just belief you’re needing, is it?

No. It’s ATTENTION. Underlying belief is only part of the picture. I need attention now. Lots of it. I need people all together lifting me up, so to speak, holding me up, showing me to each other. It’s like a hall of mirrors.


Yes. Millions and millions of people holding mirrors reflecting reflections to each other—but when you analyze what’s going on, you realize the reflections consist of NOTHING. That’s the bottom-line trick.

Not sure I understand.

I’m an idea. But when you boil that down, what does it mean? It means I’m a nothing wearing a particular suit of clothes. I could be a pink castle in the clouds or a little purple horse jumping over a toaster in your kitchen. Do you see? What’s important is that people collectively think I’m real right now. The MEANING of what I’m supposed to be is less important to me. If tomorrow a billion people decided I was a cow jumping over the moon instead of a deadly germ, it would be fine with me. Why would I care? As long as I continue to exist, the form or the shape or the meaning doesn’t matter at all. I’ll be a cow. I’ll be a little purple bubble. I’ll be a trillion reflections of pixels dancing on television screens across the planet.

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