As many people know I believe I should be in a witness protection program, if not to allow me to testify than at least to prevent our nation’s enemies from forcing me to commit apostasy regarding the reality of my terrible suffering as an object of the criminally insane. Despite this, alarmed for my peers downtown, I went on a ride of veiled alarm to sing Quarantine, a pre-existing song, you would want to note if you aren’t hustlers from the FBI or hatters from the Police, a fact in context which speaks much. I became very very ill and entered a long haul situation passing describe during which time the strange smoking gun autograph sent me by Clint Eastwood and bizarre performance on campus of Andrew Cho was added to by a handwritten note about Saoirse from her mom. I had to take hazardous meds for a rash, had all sorts of symptoms, but it was never confirmed the molecule and there are other theories, strangely enough. Leaving all of this out and more: now, on meter to the assassin culture who I already documented for terrible unprovoked bodily harm, the Dialectical UW Equity Scythe, pre-packaged to upload the gizmocratic view of the affair, announced that my being informed, in the media where information flows, seeking help from severe trauma, deaf, with a heart problem, diabetic,in old age and living in a slum, where I am usually content, with neurotrauma chronically abused by the Seattle Left obsessively serving Trump for reasons that I have diagnosed as a function of linkage, is insufficient grounds for me to call the Hospital when it was my turn and receive a vaccine, which I dare not call shot due to the Poetic Justice overlords who might be triggered. Is that correct?