There’s a (former) reporter from a small-town newspaper in a small town I once lived in with whom I used to be friends. I’ll call her Rainbow.

Saying that Rainbow and I sit on opposite sides of the political fence would be like saying fire is a tiny bit warm. She worships at the altar of NPR, has openly mocked January 6 detainees complaining of inhumane treatment, demanded a Twitter boycott after Musk shut down a few left-wing journalist’s accounts—woefully bemoaning this violation of their right to free speech (the one thing we actually agree on… except the part where she was conspicuously silent when the very same platform banned basically every dissenting voice on the planet, including esteemed doctors, scientists and journalists), and routinely promotes fundraisers for… Ukraine.

During the peak of Covid spread, this person, one I actually respected in a former lifetime, generously hosted a seminar called TRUTH DECAY (tagline: From the “Disinformation Dozen” planting fake narratives to well-meaning uncles sharing misleading memes, we ALL have to work to stop BS in its tracks. Our democracy—and our lives—are at stake.”).

I’ll admit, TRUTH DECAY is a clever title. I wish I’d thought of it.

Around the same time, my former pal posted a photo of a batch of bumper stickers she’d proudly purchased; they read, STOP MAKING STUPID PEOPLE FAMOUS, READ A FUCKING BOOK, and DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU THINK. I find it ironic that someone who has claimed to be a genius clearly doesn’t understand irony.

This photo lives rent-free on Rainbow’s Facebook feed:

Smug, much? I mean, even though exponentially more people have died from the jab than the virus, I would never-not-ever post a similar photo with tombstone captions reading, “I trusted the science,” “Don’t worry, I was vaccinated,” or “My ‘very mild, very rare’ side effect was death.” 

Rainbow and I have been waging a fairly public pissing war over Covid for going on three years now, which I have to admit I have quite enjoyed. I haven’t and won’t unfollow or unfriend her, as her posts and her replies—hell, her very existence—provide a fascinating peek into what Peter McCullough and others mean when they describe “mass formation psychosis.”

This week I sent her a link to Ed Dowd’s book CAUSE UNKNOWN, a brilliant expose of the “mysterious” rash of sudden deaths around the world. I wasn’t being passive-aggressive (much); it was free on kindle. I genuinely hoped she might read it and see the blinding, irrefutable light.

This was the ensuing (private) exchange.  You can’t make this shit up.



*obviously that was supposed to say won’t. I dictated using Siri and Siri hates me and I hit send before I caught it. 


Let that little nugget sink in for a second: “The people and institution [me: phew, at least it’s just the one!] I trust to grapple with it have already decided it’s not worth reporting about.” The Ministry of Truth has spoken! After scraping my jaw off the floor and composing myself, I replied: 

We’ve had dozens of equally depressing exchanges over the past three years, and her response to my “where was your media” questions is invariably some patronizing version of, “Oh Jenna. That’s just not how journalism works. [winky face]”

Our last back-and-forth actually did make me sad. If (an otherwise bright) someone who professes to be obsessed with “truth telling”—a term she uses relentlessly—can’t see the blatant, blinding media corruption, I fear my fantasies of a world-wide wake-up may never be realized.

And that, my remaining friends. is the depressing truth.