Posted by Gareth Icke Posted on 20 July 2020

Something is Rotten in the State of Denmark – 5G!

Alas, poor Yorick! 5G is coming to Elsinore!

The media seek to pour their poisonous lies about the innocuousness of 5G and wireless in our ears, but like Hamlet, we have found them out. Media stooges need to remember that whether kings or beggars, we are all equal in the face of microwaves and may all end prematurely in the graveyard, our joy and laughter stilled forever like poor Yorick.

Ericsson is about to roll out 5G in the town that takes its name from the famous fortress where Hamlet met his destiny. We are all Hamlet now, faced with the question of whether to live nobly or die ignominiously:

To 5G or not to 5G, that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous wireless,
Or to take arms against a sea of telcos,
And by opposing end them?
To defy: to be meek;
No more; and make a stand to put an end
To heart-ache and the thousand unnatural shocks
Our flesh is wired to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To decry, to sweep;
Away: perchance to free ourselves from the Web;
For in that freedom what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this lethal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the assault
That makes calamity of human lives;
For who would bear the waves and harm of WiFi,
The regulators’ wrong, the oligarchs’ unseemly
Pangs of undisguised greed, the law’s delay,
The insolence of officials and the spurns
That governments of the worthy make,
When we ourselves might a quiet life create
With a clear rejection? who would antennas bear,
To grunt and sweat under satellites,
Feeling the dread of torture and death,
The unacknowledg’d injuries silently borne
By planetary life forms, puzzles the will
And makes us rather exert those wills we have
Than endure the hazards that now forebode?
Thus conscience must make heroes of us all;
Or else the native hue of creation
Be sicklied o’er with the pale cast of radiation,
And enterprises of little wit or judgement
With such contempt their currents may turn on us,
And loose their waves of affliction.—Rise you now!
The good people! Earth, in thy horizons
Be all their sins remember’d.

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