The Thinking Moms’ Revolution – by Liam Scheff
In the past three months, two mothers of autistic children have tried to kill those children and then themselves. One succeeded (or failed) halfway: she killed her son, but she lived. The Chicago-area mother stabbed her boy, a very large teen of 200 plus pounds, after a dose of pills failed to do the job in an earlier attempt. The child’s 24-hour caregiver (his godmother) was also involved – she stabbed the family cat. Then both women took a dose of pills intended to put them to sleep permanently and lay down next to him. They left a detailed three-page letter, describing their plight with the severely-disabled and sometimes violent young man. But they didn’t take enough and were revived. Both have been charged with murder.
The second mother, this one in Michigan, tried to go more gently into darkness. She used two charcoal grills as the fatal weapon (for the carbon monoxide they produce. Carbon monoxide is a poison produced by cars and burning fuel, which we all breathe a bit of daily). It didn’t work. She and her daughter were discovered, passed out, after being reported missing. The mother is recovering; the teen is suffering from the toxic exposure, and may be brain-damaged. Or further neurologically damaged than was already inflicted by autism. Or by the causes of autism. But what are the causes of autism? (Is it, in this case, considered to be an unimportant question?)
The local newspaper had this to say: “Issy [the teen] often attacked her mother and a sibling, and her parents continually ran into roadblocks with insurance companies, treatment facilities and various government agencies in a quest for help that devastated them emotionally and financially.”
“She is a great kid with a lot of potential,” Kelli told the Record-Eaglein February. “She’s so smart. She started reading when she was two. She’s got so much to offer, but her aggression is going to limit her life as much as anything.” [LINK]
Her aggression, said the paper, was intense. At five feet, 160 pounds, she knocked her mother unconscious, twice, and was targeting her younger sister. The boy who was killed by his mother was also described as being violent at home, “big and strong and unwilling to go to the doctor,” said the town police chief. She had previously gone on the local television news and accused the area hospital of neglecting and abusing her son, in a ragged harangue. But the family had refused state assistance in dealing with him. Why would they have asked for help – and then refuse it?
When It Bleeds, It Leads
In a gut-wrenching story like this, where no business or institution has to pay a penalty, the razor-toothed newspaper editorials fan out like sharks around a sinking cruise ship full of fattened tourists – like there is no other story in the world. Like all autism mothers are potential criminals. And the mothers are pivoted into the defensive, psychologically and emotionally, to distance themselves from the nightmare: “Horrible!” “Awful!” “What a monster!” goes the manufactured clamor on cable television.
The Facebook chatter is more nuanced, but still dives into the tabloid larder of homily and attack: “What these people needed was . . .” and “What they should’ve done is . . .” and, “How could anyone do such a thing?!” But you will also see the responses of the mothers with very damaged, older, physically strong, rebellious autistic teens: “No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like.”
They are quick to point out that they do not condone any sort of violence (as though they are guilty by association for expressing compassion). But they know something about these women – women who did not want to be in a world without their children, but could not be mothers to these children anymore. (What kind of person kills a cat so that it will not be a memory and a burden to the family she leaves behind? This isn’t cold-blooded murder. It’s something else entirely.)
There is something operating beyond the visible here. But you won’t get there by scratching the surface. You have to enter a different world, and you have to dive into the deep of it.
The Wrong Story
There is a 5th century Greek myth about a very bad mother, called 
“Medea.” In it, Medea, a proud queen, is abandoned and betrayed by her husband, Jason (of the Argonaut journeys). Not one to be trifled with, she repays her absentee, cheating husband by slaying their children, and then rides off on a chariot to a better life.
The newspapers would like to invoke that ancient story to describe autism moms who fall apart; they would like these mothers to be remorseless killers without cause. The murder of children, after all, is horrible: it’s practiced every day, of course, everywhere, with drugs and bombs and bullets, but when it peels the lid of the American suburbs, it arrives on Nancy Grace’s radar, dripping with advertisements for poisonous home-cleaning products.
But Medea is the wrong myth. The correct myth here is “Hades,” the Hades of Sisyphus – eternal imprisonment in a world where the boulder keeps needing to be pushed up a hill of fire – a hill that keeps ascending. And the hill never stops being steeper, and the boulder never stops being heavier, the fire never stops burning, and you have to keep pushing. The air is hot, cutting and dry. Your breath burns in your lungs, sweat singes your eyes. But you can’t stop pushing – your life depends upon it (your child’s life). And if you ever get to the top of a hill, you wake up the next day behind a new boulder, at the bottom of a new hill.
Herd Toxicity
You may not know it; you may rebel against the thought. You may reject it. But these children were murdered long before their mothers lost all faith in the universe, before their frayed nerves ignited into a whirlwind of madness. Their children had long been taken away from them. By whom? You won’t want to hear it. You won’t like it, and you won’t agree, unless you do the damnable work of reading.
It was done by the state that offers to help once the damage is done. By the very people who promised to protect all children. It was done by doctors.
These children were, one by one, in groups and “herds,” rounded and penned into caring, compassionate, 4-star doctors’ offices, and injected, over and over again, while anxious mothers looked on, their gaze tightening on a needle, recoiling as their children scream, go limp, pass out, vomit, break into a rash – or cease to speak, or walk, or use hands and feet the same way, ever again.
But you don’t know this because the media never asks the simple question: “What is in a vaccine?” The answer is censored from the tabloids. The answer is printed in small type that anxious mothers must read, after the damage is done, on the package inserts for the drugs themselves: metals, cell-deranging stimulants, tissue-inflaming “adjuvants,” neurotoxic poisons, animal ovary, kidney and testicular cells, human fetal tissue. (Do a web search for the question, “what is in a vaccine?” and take the time to understand the root of the issue.)
You don’t need to see an allergist to discover that this stuff is not “good for you.” The process of injecting this brew into very small bodies, by-passing the essential immune system (the gut, where poison can be passed through the body and excreted), directly into the enclosed, suffocating dense muscle or fatty tissue – which has no excretory path – is, by its own intended methods, toxic, inflammatory, and, yes, neurotoxic. That means this stuff causes nervous system (that’s brain) damage.
You can reject this, you can refuse to believe it, or, you can take the time to read the studies, if you have the courage and patience [LINK]. Once you do the reading, you will arrive at the understanding that vaccines are poisonous, by their design, their very nature, and understanding the larger issue becomes possible.
The Sacred Puzzle
By injecting children with neurotoxic poison, over and over again, in compounded rounds at an increased rate of speed, the medical industry has caused this damage to children.
No, they’ve done more. They’ve assaulted, beaten, broken, and sometimes killed a generation of children – but left them alive in pieces for their devastated, broken-hearted mothers and fathers to clean up, to try to solve, as though they were a puzzle; to love the humanity in, but fear in gut-shredding terror that they’ll never simply be able to . . . just . . . be on their own, these kids. And many of them — many of them – many, many, many, many, many of them – will never be able to be on their own.
You, I – no one – can understand what it is to be a mother and have this entirely sacred thing brutally violated: raped, cut, cracked, broken, shifted. This sacred thing – the mother-infant bond. The child that recognizes language, who isn’t beset and bedeviled by unknowable maladies and terrors. No one can know what it is to be a mother to a child who cannot simply be what all and every bit of creation and nature intended that pair – that absolutely sacred pair – to be.
The government, the medical industry, the pharmaceutical juggernaut – call it all the names it has – has systematically annihilated the future of, well . . . us. By hating, despising, ridiculing, ignoring and forbidding the cries for simple mercy from mothers and fathers who have had their children stolen by an injection. By a ceaseless coating of pesticides, infusion of GMOs, of petrochemical additives. By a repeated blood-poisoning by metals and animal tissue and hyper-stimulating compounds.
A Map of Now
If this seems “in extremis” to you, that’s because it is. This isn’t a local failure; it is us – a culture, a way of being – in absolute collapse. The women who struck out at their own bodies and the lives that came out of them – this is what societal collapse looks like. And you will see more of it, escalating into something much worse.
If mothers are not allowed to choose to avoid this poisoning, you will see not only an epidemic of autism, but its inevitable consequence: the collapse of motherhood. The broken souls of mothers who’ve never been able to see their infant become an adult, or even a self-sufficient child, will run out of options. And the strength that has to be prayed for every night, just to get through the following 12 – or two – hours, will fail her.
Some of these women, pressed with a state running them down for more and more and more injections, will run – but to where? To isolation in crowded towns and apartments? To tenements? To government housing? The ‘market-derived solution’ of our compassionate nation will be more of the same: institutionalization and medication. Shall we close our eyes, drug the children and re-open the 19th century mental wards? (Can you feel the thoughts of these mothers, in their own personal Hades, asking, “Is death really a worse fate?”)
These children cannot survive without space to roam – safely. They will need every method that can be used to try to recover some of what was stolen. Who will give it to them? If it’s not “us,” then it’s not going to happen.
Falling Down That Mountain
Once you know what is happening – this mass-destruction of a generation – you can see what’s coming. It won’t always be murder-suicide. It will be violence in the home, the school, the neighborhood. It will be inexplicable acts of harm, child to child, or child to parent. The newspapers will have no shortage of familial tragedy in a mass-injected world. The American Medical Association will not be named in the editorial. Nor will the pediatric care associations, which pat “good doctors” on the head for all the shots they deliver.
Amid the carnage, I hope that we’ll also see communities in which people save each other from the fate of the Western world – isolation, brokenness, degradation – and offer each other that rare thing called “home,” where mistakes are permissible; where love and forgiveness, communication and sharing, food-growing and preparing, learning, teaching and some precious moments of quiet respite are the daily practices.
This is where we have to go – all of us – if we’re going to survive the next 20 years of decline. (Decline? Yes, this is the map of now: oil-decline, increased psychotic warfare among the powers-that-don’t-care, and resource shortages.) These terms indeed describe our future as being quite different than our today or yesterday. If that sounds pessimistic, well, read a newspaper and tell me what you see.
Whose Fault?
I’ve been investigating the medical establishment for a decade. I’ve seen many people – many children – murdered, coldly, by the pressing hands of the pharmaceutical establishment. I’ve met doctors too frightened, anxious or self-important to take the two hours (or two minutes) required to understand a few points on vaccine or drug toxicity. Indeed, I’ve met them many times.
What I’ve never met is an autism mom who wouldn’t give her own life to bring her child back. Who wouldn’t sacrifice everything in her soul to stop the moment when that thing that she secretly blames herself for – for allowing the shot, for not protesting a treatment, for her mercury fillings – for whatever she most fears is the cause. I’ve never met the autism mother whose own life isn’t pinned to the killing board by that damned moment.
But it wasn’t her fault, and it’s not her fault when she breaks. If I may be blunt, we’re too often a rotten species. We allow power structures and priesthoods to dictate our own conscience to us – and when they’re wrong, we suffer doubly: once for their lie, and once for our mute assent to it.
If you want to understand why these mothers are breaking (and they are breaking), then go read about the history of vaccination. And make a community where you live that allows the damaged children of the 20th century’s greatest lie to have a chance. Get to know an autism family. It will help them, and it will help you survive our looming tomorrow. The only way up the hill and onto flat, fertile ground is together.
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Liam Scheff is a journalist and radio host. He is author of “Official Stories,” which details the hidden history of vaccination and modern medicine. Find him on The Energy Show, the Robert Scott Bell Show and at his website.
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