It’s Time to Stop Wearing Masks

I refuse to wear a mask. I believe, as many people do—but not enough to make a wrinkle in the vast bubble of mass delusion—that masks are largely ineffective. But the consequences of holding to this belief and appearing in public without a mask can be quite unpleasant.

My experience in the streets and shops of my city will be familiar to those who feel as I do. The masked give me a wide berth. Others stare balefully from the only exposed part of their faces. On occasion I find myself in confrontation with those who believe I am a “spreader” to be mocked, shamed, condemned and threatened.

COVID Rage is all the rage. And I am always astounded by the level of ignorance wedded to self-righteousness among the unvisaged, the tendency to follow the diktats of their political leaders and government appointed medical officers without question, and to accept implicitly the reports of a suborned media apparatus. The lack of common sense and the unwillingness to conduct independent research are truly staggering, if entirely predictable. Instead of herd immunity, we have herd mentality.

Masks are not only unsightly, even grotesque, but they obscure proper articulation—I rarely understand what these people are trying to say—and eliminate all signs of personality. One feels one is trapped inside a particularly lurid Zombie movie.

Become the lie.

More importantly, masks are generally useless. The weave and filter are not resistant to the miniscule COVID virion. Wearing masks has been compared to setting up a chain-link fence to keep out flies. Former naval surgeon Dr. Lee Merritt has done the research.

Viruses are passed by tiny micron particles, she explains, “that sneak out through the mask and around the mask.” As Merritt points out, the popular meme of “viral load,” which masks are said to reduce, is misleading; it takes only one COVID micron and a compromised immune system to trigger the infection. So much for director of the HIV Clinic at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital Monica Ghandi’s argument that masks significantly reduce ingestion of viral particles, and that masking can make you “less sick.” A mask is not a silver bullet, it is a blank cartridge.

We might note that the more sophisticated N-95 masks, which are used by medical personnel, provide insecure protection. Medical Life Sciences tells us that the diameter of a COVID particle ranges from 60 to 140 nanometers (nm) and that N-95 masks are non-functional under 100 nm, rendering them only 50 percent effective at best. As the founder of American Frontline Doctors .Simone Gold, states “The facts are not in dispute:  (cloth) masks are completely irrelevant in blocking the SARS-CoV-2 virus.” N-95s bring their own problems, as noted below. (Naturally, she has been roundly attacked by “medical cancel culture”). 

Droplets are apparently another matter, being larger than aerosols and thus impeded by masks, whether on the receiving or emitting end. A little common sense tells us that droplets evaporate and the particles hitching a ride on them remain to be breathed in or out. Moreover, a CambridgeCore study concludes that “any mask, no matter how efficient at filtration or how good the seal, will have minimal effect if it is not used in conjunction with other preventative measures, [including] regular hand hygiene.” Since wearers are frequently adjusting their masks, regular hand hygiene is by no means practical or possible. Aerosols or droplets, same difference.

But there is another side to the problem. ScienceDaily, citing a study conducted at the University of New South Wales, indicates that “cloth masks can be dangerous to your health.” This is also true for the much-hyped N-95. Prolonged wearing is likely to cause hypoxia (diminished oxygen supply). The masker breathes in his own CO2, leading in some cases to grogginess and even somnolence—the reason birds in winter conserve energy and warmth and sleep at night by tucking their heads under their wings.

People who drive masked are asking for trouble. People who wear masks for extended periods are at risk. Hypoxia can also lead to a condition of immune cell dysfunction. The immunologic consequences can be critical, causing neurological damage and rendering the individual susceptible to whatever pathogens are lurking in his own system or in the air around him. This alone is a reason not to wear masks—and certainly not for excessive periods. Even the more reliable surgical masks must be changed frequently. (Plastic face shields are no solution since the larger surface area acts a storehouse for the viral molecule.)

Obviously, the pro-and-con controversy over the efficacy of masks is particularly contentious. Political and professional reputations are at stake, especially in journals and institutions with a distinctive leftist bias. Politics will mostly trump science, and the common observer must be scrupulously careful in evaluating evidence.

Thus, it comes as no surprise that trusted data sources like the W.H.O., The New England Journal of Medicine, and The Lancet are profoundly compromised and have been compelled to revise or retract some of their studies and surveys. But it is interesting to note that The Center for Evidence Based Medicine (CEBM) finds that “despite two decades of pandemic preparedness, there is considerable uncertainty as to the value of wearing masks… assuming 20% asymptomatics and a risk reduction of 40% for wearing masks, 200,000 people would need to wear one to prevent one new infection per week.” 

Timothy Taylor at Conversable Economist points to many random controlled trial studies that “do not find a reason to wear a mask.” Wired magazine is also ambivalent regarding data, stating: “the research literature on mask usage doesn’t provide definitive answers. There are no large-scale clinical trials proving that personal use of masks can prevent pandemic spread; and the ones that look at masks and influenza have produced equivocal results.” 

Such a “large scale clinical trial” has, in fact, just been conducted. A major Danish controlled study involving 6000 participants, the only study of its kind, has been predictably rejected by three medical journals. One of the researchers, Thomas Lars Benfield, states that publication will have to wait until “a journal is brave enough to accept the paper.” The Lancet, among others, won’t touch it, as is to be expected.

Reviewing the travesty, Conservative Review editor Daniel Horowitz wonders “how many other scientific and academic studies covering an array of very consequential policy questions rooted in scientific debate are being censored because they don’t fit the narrative of the political elites?” And indeed, why is NIAID Director Anthony Fauci disinclined to pursue a controlled study on the effectiveness of masks? Of course, like CNN journalist Chris Cuomo and Canada’s Minister of Health Patty Hajdu, Fauci was spotted not wearing a mask in public. Do as I say, not as I do.

Masks work. Just ask Dr. Fauci.

By the same token, Bioengineer Yinon Weiss at The Federalist shows via data comparison and representative graphs of seven European countries and three American states that renewed mask compliance has led to an exponential spike in infection rates, in some case by as much as 1500 percent. Weiss cites major international studies, as well as the U.S. surgeon general and the Centers for Disease Control, revealing the ineffectiveness of commercial masks. Masks, lockdowns and quarantine protocols merely delay the development of herd immunity and are practically guaranteed to prolong the epidemic. Nevertheless, fear not only of the disease but also of punitive measures and of being conspicuous dissenters exposed to social opprobrium are operative factors.

Mask hysteria seems primed to continue. Psychiatrist Dr. Mark McDonald calls the standard response to the virus “a pandemic of hysteria… a delusional psychosis…It is killing us physically, mentally, socially, psychologically.” Masks dehumanize us and make us timid and afraid, vulnerable to the designs of our political masters seeking, as Weiss writes, “to twist the pandemic for political and electoral purposes.”

The situation has grown even more perverse. We seem to have reached a point where government propaganda and coercion are no longer necessary. People have become the servants and enablers of the state, having by and large internalized the official compulsion and are now their own stringent monitors and self-appointed mask police—the final ingredient in the time-tested recipe for totalitarian control. Swallow the lie. Become the lie. Enforce the lie.

Enforce the lie.

At best, mask wearing should be discretionary. If you wish to wear a mask no one can legally prevent you from doing so. But some things are clear. Masks should not be mandated by political authority since (1) the requirement to do so is an infringement of the Charter rights of free citizens living in a democratic state; (2) masks are largely, and perhaps in most cases wholly, ineffective; and (3) they can be demonstrably harmful to one’s health and the health of other people.

Ironically, mask wearing is the real risk, not only delaying or preventing the development of immunity while inducing a false sense of comfort, but also acting as a disease incubator, and a conceivable threat to non-maskers. A highly qualified friend who has diligently studied the virus for the last six months writes: “Mask wearers are becoming an additional potential source of environmental contamination, increasing not only their own but the risk to others.”

I do my best to avoid maskers, although it is difficult considering the numbers.

Diary of an Acclimatised Beauty: Testing

I’m headed back to Annabel’s country house and not a moment too soon. The earth has become just a bit too stupid for me with the world’s most unattractive people literally barking through their masks at someone who is either not masked, or not masked well enough to suit. Self-professed experts every last one of them. Google Graduates is what I call them. And where do all these people hide the rest of the year? We don’t see them at Equinox or in church or at the cosmetic counter because these are the ugliest people on the planet —the people who creep out at night and find the only open chip shop and skulk home undetected. Yes, I know I’m being very naughty today but honestly why step out into the world if you are just going to pollute it with your trés désagréable ways?

And if I may…didn’t they watch the NHK videos that showed how yelling like a fishwife pushed more micro-droplets into the air? Granted I likely missed bits in the translation, and it is unlikely the Japanese have an equivalent for “fishwife” but I think you get the picture. And don’t they know that commercial and industrial masks with valves are made specifically to keep nano-particles from being breathed IN? They are one-way masks, suited for industrial environs, and the wearer expels wholly unfiltered air—so in society they are the absolute limit in selfishness. But it is always these people yelling at the rest of the world, expelling the most micro-droplets—and the most hatred. Most assuredly these are also the people littering my beloved oceans with their discarded masks, gloves, and bottles of hand sanitiser—coming soon to a sea turtle near you.

Inches from the gates of grace and civility (Annabel’s), I was dying for a cup of tea. I’d traveled over two hours by motor car and had a devil of a time finding a hostess gift that could be wrapped and delivered today. But Annabel did not greet me, nor did anyone I recognised, just someone who asked my name twice and led me to a different room than I was accustomed to. I used the time to answer emails from my beauty followers, paid my bills back in Los Angeles and slathered on a gommante mask. I fell asleep straight away waking up with a very tight and cracking plaster coating that had also dripped into my ears and hardened. Clearly I would have the most exfoliated ears at dinner tonight.

Home, sweet home.

There was a quiet buzz downstairs and although I wanted to sleep through till morning I tiptoed downstairs in a fresh change of clothes that could still pass as having just arrived attire. They were of course hot, and sweating and headed up to change clothes themselves—so my outfit was a waste as I’d now be dressing for dinner as well. I hung up my linen dress and changed into a robe, set an alarm for forty minutes, and lay perfectly still so as not to mess up my hair or make-up.

I finally found Annabel, who had gotten far too much sun, and I told her so. “It’s cumulative,” I reminded, and she certainly does know better. That was the extent of my time alone with her as someone I vaguely recognised remembered my name without giving me the benefit of hearing his.

“How have you been?” he leaned in to ask as if we were actually friends. Lord, why this person when I never even got that cup of tea?

“Surely you know,” I said, hoping this would put him off. But forty minutes later he was seated across the table, and no I hadn’t remembered his name in forty minutes time.

“Last time we saw you…”

“WE?? Who is we?” I snapped.

“I just meant the last time we…the last time I saw you here, you were with that fellow, Trevor.”

“WITH him?" I queried.

“Well you two looked to be sharing the most delicious secret.”

Seriously, who is this clown? I took a large gulp of wine, changed my countenance, and behaved as though we had indeed changed the subject. If he wasn’t leaving by morning I was going to have to talk to Annabel about future seating arrangements.

“It’s just that I understood you to be an environmentalist… a true environmentalist and I’d heard Trevor sells rainforest wood as his profession.” he droned on.

“Yes, that’s right,” I said, “partially right. I’m a life coach who has done some very important things for the planet but I’m not an environmentalist by profession. And Trevor… the gentleman who was a guest here... did mention some business in South America but I really can’t speak for him.

Just then Annabel shot me a look as if to say sorry. I needed rescuing, and well beyond his conversation, I could barely keep my eyes open. I motioned to Annabel and slipped away up to my room. Exhausted I unzipped my cocktail dress and flopped onto the bed; teeth and mascara would have to wait as I fell into the deepest coma-like sleep and didn’t wake up until several hours later.

Oh how I now wished I was back in Hawaii, with piles of days ahead of me and no one to care about the hours I kept. Where I could sleep and wake and sleep again like a never-ending Saturday of my youth. There was a text on my phone asking if I could do a ten-minute COVID beauty cameo on a friend’s show. Seriously? COVID beauty? She must just mean a repeat of my clarifying treatments when wearing masks. I looked at the time, texted “yes” and set my alarm for another three hours. This too was interrupted. Annabel needed me for some reason or another and couldn’t come herself.

I checked my face in the mirror, I looked fine actually, my hair still pretty much perfect and my eyes a deeper green than usual. Odd that, but I couldn’t go down in my cocktail dress—or could I?

When I got to her Annabel was burning up. Something more than a low-grade fever and of course not a thermometer in the house. I found paracetamol in her cabinet and then went straightaway to make a fever-reducing tonic I’d learned from a Russian woman, the smell of which is not altogether pleasant but the result, nearly instantaneous. An hour later I was having to re-apply as we waited to hear from her doctor. I set my alarm for every two hours, repeating all of my witching treatments and forcing her to drink the various things I thought would help. I mean, I knew they would help I just didn’t know how many I could get her to swallow before she declared me her mortal enemy.

I was still in my cocktail dress.

Her fever was substantially lower to my touch—nearly gone, so I set her housekeeper to task with making only slightly more edible soups and dragged Annabel into her dry sauna. I hate saunas myself and I was exhausted. She must employ half the county and it’s down to me slaving over her?

The doorbell rang, it wasn’t the doctor but Annabel’s hostess gift a day late. When the doctor finally did arrive I wanted to throttle him but I was still in my cocktail dress. He did little to see how she was faring and went straight away to testing her for Coronavirus. Then me, then everyone else in the house. I made him do my test a second time because I had no fever and despite being rather tired, I felt fine, and neither of us had coughed.

More importantly, I gave him the slightly enviable task of sending Annabel’s guests packing. And now I’d never have to learn the philistine’s name. I’d missed doing the spot on my friend’s beauty show but now I had a COVID beauty vlog of my own—everything from fever magic to preventing broken capillaries because let’s be honest…nearly everyone recovers, and when one looks better, one feels better. Isn't that right?