There are few universal constants. Here is one: whenever you get bad news, there is always more. Bad news is administered like a vaccine. A real vaccine, not the clot shot. Given in microdoses, it serves as a tool to stimulate immunities in the patient. It prepares the patient for the continued exposure to larger doses of the same pathogen. Yes, that's right folks. I am saying that Nick Shirley's reporting, and everything that has been peeled back since, is just a microdose of the bad news that is to follow.
The conditions that have existed to permit this scale of fraud did not occur by accident. That condition occurred by design because someone would profit from it. In the case of Columbus, Ohio, the Somali variant of this scourge goes back to 1994. That gravy train is a train a long time runnin'. Remember the reports in the summer of 2024? When the Haitians were turning up nightly for the buffet at the Springfield Petland store? Then there were some local, independent investigative reporters who actually connected the dots and found that the then republican Mayor was profiting through a property management company, with payments delivered from the feds to house all of the illegals. At his properties. The illegals that he was responsible for bringing into Springfield to begin with. This story, unfortunately, did not go viral like Mr. Shirley's reporting.
In the case of Columbus, scams like the Springfield fraud have been going on in one form or another for decades. It knows no party distinctions. The entire political class think that we are all stupid. Considering how long they have been getting away with it, one is not wrong to consider that they may be right. But we're not all stupid. There are enough of us who are paying attention. The vapid shills in legacy media, who slavishly carry their water, find that their powers of persuasion are greatly diminished and fading fast. The truth will be uncovered. Eventually. Maybe not every single bit of it, but enough to rattle a lot of cages.
Some of us have been paying attention long enough to have watched this shit show unfold in slow motion, over years. We've been paying attention long enough to have seen that the accelerator was increased during the Obama years and hyperdrive during the biden residency. As all this has unfolded and brought us to where we are today, I have had the sense that I had seen all this somewhere before...
Many years ago I started third grade. That was a very warm September. It was hot and dry, the playground grass already turned that special shade of yellow. Early in that school year, probably toward the end of that first month, a classmate discovered a preying mantis in the hedges. A couple of kids managed to herd this poor creature onto a stick. Quite proud of their trophy, the mantis was paraded into the classroom at the end of recess.
Our teacher, a grandmotherly type named Mrs. Rockwell, didn't seem terribly keen on this bug at first. Then she spied upon something in the classroom that sparked an idea. In one corner, over by the windows, there sat an empty aquarium tank. The previous occupant, a hamster, had been rescued by a student at the end of the prior school year. Mrs. Rockwell told the boys to put the stick and the mantis into the tank. For a moment I think there was some thought of this as an educational exercise in natural science.
This naturally led to the question, "What do preying mantises eat? We'll have to feed it, won't we?" Third graders are generally not up to speed on these matters. We deferred to Mrs. Rockwell's wisdom. We were told that during our afternoon recess we should gather crickets. Crickets were what preying mantises liked to eat.
Well, if you don't remember, I will remind you of another deficiency in a third graders knowledge. Third graders are not very good at all in distinguishing the difference between a cricket and a grasshopper. Anyone who has lived in the Midwest can tell you that during those warm, dry days of late Summer and early Autumn, the lawns and grassy spaces are swimming with grasshoppers. You know, the big fat, crunchy green ones. Some people call them locusts.
As a consequence of not providing more detailed instruction, say perhaps a pictorial guide, there were probably ten or twelve grasshoppers gathered that afternoon. At the end of afternoon recess these were all delivered to the tank. We went home at the end of the day and that night had pleasant dreams of the mega mantis we were going to create.
The following morning we arrived back in our classroom and were quite astonished to find... a tank full of grasshoppers and no mantis. Mrs. Rockwell assured us all that the mantis must have escaped. We spent the rest of that day always on the lookout for the missing mantis. It wasn't until some years later that I understood what had really happened to the mantis.
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