Please try to explain it away. I see what my eyes see. I hear conversations that make sense, even if I’m not able to parrot the points made in future conversations. What does that mean?
Beginning from top left: 2020-02-xx – 2020-03-xx, 2020-03-xx – 2020-04-xx; 2021-02-xx – 2021-03-xx, 2021-03-xx – 2021-04-xx. Pulled from exdeaths-japan.org.
What do you see? I can tell you what I see: I see bigger numbers when (presumably) SARS-CoV-2 reaches Japan; I see bigger numbers after mRNA shots had been distributed. What does that mean?
I’d dipped my toes into the mRNA-critical spheres nearly two years ago (check timeline). (For what it’s worth, these people, ranging from teachers to scientists to doctors, rather don’t trip any red flags (in relation to integrity and credibility) with their body language, cadences, and choices of words.) Personally, I’ve grown more and more convinced since that day. These folks are working with what they know, are sincere, and have had their reputations destroyed by entities that exercise generous helpings of apathy, greed, and dignity preservation. I’d heard of the sunk-cost fallacy, as a teen, years ago too. How that plays a part isn’t something I struggle to comprehend either.
Consider viewing this interview:
Something in me snapped when Anime News Network posted this tweet on the 15th of June (today):
Manga creator Nami Sano, who died last year at age 36, is getting a memorial project that will feature an exhibition, a collection of previously uncompiled works, and a special feature in the next issue of Harta magazine.https://t.co/WNxzvbuYLq ➤
— Anime News Network (@Anime) June 15, 2024
R.I.P., Sano Nami.
Does the anime fan even know? Will he ever comprehend what kind of loss this is? I was in la-la land until six o’clock this morning, trying to pretend like the authors, illustrators, voice actors—artists, the people who made this happen—were somehow impervious to the warping of ‘help’. I deliberately didn’t look. But now that I’ve seen, bottling up this feeling doesn’t feel right. This is how I’ll grieve, with my fingers on my keyboard, and my tears rolling down my face.