Australia’s response to the Covid era was the worst in the world, with its insane lockdowns, destructive vaccine mandates and out of control authoritarianism, accompanied by a blizzard of lies from our politicians.
So few people stood up to the wave of BS emanating from the government. But some did. And amongst the most gifted of those was Michael Gray Griffith, who travelled the country interviewing the many people damaged by their own government’s actions, those who lost jobs and their homes, those who lost friends over a vaccine which proved neither safe nor effective, those who have seen relatives die unexpectedly.
Here for the historical record is Michael Gray Griffith’s reflections on the end of 2024. Keep an eye out for the upcoming book collecting his essays, truly one of the most compelling of all of the books to have emerged from the Covid era.
I woke up this morning in an old bus, covered in images we’ve taken of giants during our combined journey into the storm. We are living in unprecedented times, and the rapidly changing landscape often makes no sense. People defended those who would do them harm—intentionally or not—while those who tried to warn them were mocked. Though this is changing.
Early on, I used to joke that we were the chickens warning other chickens that the dog pretending to guard us was, in fact, a fox.
But I was wrong. I now believe that we are something else entirely.
There are now two sections of society, and the dividing line is liberty. One side has the philosophy of chickens: “I don’t care what happens outside the coop, just feed me, water me, keep me warm, and I’ll pay you with a lifetime of eggs.”
“For your safety, we need you chickens to take this magic potion.”
“For our safety? No problem. Here, take my wing. I have no desire to fly.”
And then there is us, the seagulls, who don’t require a coop. For some reason, even though the sky can daunt us, as can the doubt of where our next chip is coming from, when they tried to capture us, we still took to the wing.
Ever since, we’ve been trying to entice other seagulls, masquerading as hens, to join us.
But look at what oppression has allowed us to discover about ourselves.
We are the seagulls that Jonathan wrote about. Throughout history, our spiritual lineage has been the stuff of legends. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if our remains are scattered across all the battlefields where humans rose to challenge tyranny. And while complete victory is rare—perhaps even impossible—our legacy is the hope we leave behind in the stories people tell their children, in the heroic films we covet.
While the meek may seem destined to inherit the world, our defiance, persistence, and faith are the muse of our poets.
Where are we going?
I don’t know.
Destitution hunts us and our work, like a pack of bloodhounds chasing escapees from a chain gang. Maybe we are those escapees, but there’s an energy in us that drives us forward—a journey not possible without the support, spiritual and financial, of people like you.
Café Locked Out is changing, as the war changes. We are now attempting to evolve into something stronger. With 18 podcasters, we stream seven days a week, often with multiple shows a day. We also now have the right to stream voices from overseas, like Dr. Malik. In the new year, we’ll start streaming live to CLO.social—fingers crossed. Kelli and I will also be hitting the road soon, with a goal to interview anyone brave enough to discuss our culture’s identity. We believe these COVID years have torn away our country’s identity, and the young people we’ve recently interviewed agree with this.
Make no mistake: we are deep inside a propaganda war against a marketing machine with the deepest pockets, and we are fighting back with webcams and mobile phones, ingenuity, larrikinism, and guts.
Monkeypox was one of our victories. Mpox, lol, another.
What’s great now is that a global army of podcasters is joining the front lines. This is significant because, before this, we were entertained by our masters through TV, movies, etc. But now, we’re not just entertaining ourselves—we’re each, in our own way, exploring the moral murkiness left by the tsunami of the jabs. We are searching for a path that leads toward a world better suited for human beings, using only our souls as light.
Even today, I fell into a mud pit when I discovered that Santa Claus was an invention of a Coca-Cola marketing team. That’s no joke.
What are we?
Where are we?
Where are we going?
And do we want to go there, or is there another place out there, waiting for us? The gravity of which we can all feel tugging at our souls.
That’s the beauty of these times. Never before have I known a time when a sliver of courage can slice through the turbulence of fear, allowing us not only to find ourselves but also to discover the purpose seagulls crave more than chips.
Liberty.
A place where even chickens are inspired to fly.
Oh, and I also believe I have uncovered our secret weapon.
With so many threats—from robots threatening to make us redundant, mRNA factories demanding we consume their products, ongoing censorship, and AI already blurring our online reality—the best chance we have of remaining proud human beings is to form deeper relationships with other brave humans. Each other. And the best glue to secure that bond is love.
There is a storm ahead, and we can all feel it approaching. A storm best navigated by allowing courage to be your heart’s navigator, instead of allowing your heart to be steered into the broad smiling hands of our so called leaders.
Anyhow, we are not there yet and the storm is between us, and currently we are here, in an old bus, being buffeted by a strong wind, riding these wild waves to here where I am thanking you.
