Protesting Medical Fascism, in Phoenix and Beyond


On Wednesday, Nov. 3, there was a rally in downtown Phoenix, which I’ve only recently learned is the capital of my new state, Arizona. The rally was hashtagged with “Stop the Mandate,” and was yet another gathering of freedom-loving Americans who are pushing back against this emerging medical fascism. In brief, this is a dictatorship in which the federal state (and, if Klaus Schwab gets his way, the global state) can forcibly inject you, and me, and our kids, with an experimental vaccine. 

There are many people, ordinary and unexceptionable as myself, that will not stand for it. The scaremongering, as per all good propaganda, is only a pretense for more sinister intentions. It’s not necessary anyway, what with new treatments being developed and made available. There’s also the scandalously neglected numbers who have recovered from the virus, thus conferring to them lasting immunity, therefore with no need for anything more than that. Then tell us, pray, why does everyone, from St. Fauci, to a recent massive study done by a Harvard professor, to even the lizardman himself, Bill Gates, all say – or might that be concede? – that the vaccine is a total failure at stopping transmission? This is an intrusion into our privacy as well as an insult to our intelligence. 

At the end of it, we don’t wish to bequeath to our children a world in which they’ll be forced to get a booster shot every six months, proof of which to be shown every time they enter school, or a restaurant, or an entertainment venue; or, most frighteningly, the emergency room, where we might have to rush them if they happen to develop myocarditis. Could we imagine a long line of bodies, both young and old, all waiting to get admitted into the hospital, but who all must first prove their vaccination status, only minutes before insisting that very thing as the cause of their health crisis? 

Not counting all the bots on Twitter, everyone else who argues in favor of these scenarios would do well to reread their favorite dystopian novel. Only an optimist – which I am not – would have the slightest bit of hope that a ton of irony would drop down upon their conscience and awaken them as to what they’re helping to usher in. 

I wanted – do want – to help awaken the masses. And the protest scene is where I’m in my element. No need to think too hard as to my angle. I am, after all, a refugee from the state of California. My former state seems to have the most draconian restrictions in the whole nation, which is something I can certainly testify to. 

So the night before the rally, I went over to the Walmart to get supplies so as to make my own personalized protest sign. I bought a white poster-board and some red nylon rope: a message to be hung around my neck, leaving my hands free to give out business cards, or, perhaps use my bullhorn (it wouldn’t be useful at a rally this small). The first side was easy. It read: “Resist Medical Fascism!” I added a little syringe with a skull, filled with green liquid. Cute and quant, but in the end, too simple and mundane. The other side was sloppier but was more aligned with my unique position: “I Didn’t Escape California Just to Deal With the Same Shit Over here.” Perfect! 

The protest was scheduled to begin at 1 p.m. I arrived fifteen minutes after the hour, never having been to this side of town. Took a left on Jefferson. Up 17th. Then I saw the crowd on my right-hand side, across from what I assume to be the capitol building. There, the signs and the canopies; and just beyond those was the large, mostly empty parking lot. I circled the block and pulled in, parking my car at the far back edge of the lot. I did take the backpack with my bullhorn, but I likely would not use it, as that noisy thing is usually reserved for crowds that near a thousand in number. I packed water and business cards. Locked up the machine. Finally, I hung the sign around my neck, with the side indicating my refugee status facing out. While I didn’t figure this crowd as being partial towards victimhood, I still might be able to invoke some sympathy. “Native Californian…it’s really bad over there…we barely made it…could be traumatized for life…don’t let it happen over here.” The tears would gush, I was sure! 

Walking over, I asked the first person I came up to if it was readable. He laughed and said it was. It was the first of many laughs I’d be greeted with. By my guess, there was probably a couple hundred people here. I spent the next three hours doing laps around the park, meeting the attendees, and handing out cards. 

There were representatives from Robert Kennedy’s Children’s Health Defense, the Pima County Libertarian Party, The Patriot Party, The Arizona Coalition of School Board Members, and EZAZ, a grassroots organization which I have recently become a member of. If one of the speakers had snagged my attention, I’d go over and listen. I once again neglected to make any notes or recordings myself, but thankfully an activist named Tzadik had recorded the entire program. Tzadik, for his part, recently started an organization named “EarthWalk,” which, as the name implies, plans on organizing several long, awareness-raising walks in all the states. 

The woman from Children’s Health Defense, whose name I didn’t catch, was organizing the list of speaker. She spoke first. “If COVID vaccine shot were a perfect vaccine, one that was perfectly effective, and perfectly safe, it should still never be mandated.” Indeed! Dru Heaton with the Pima County Libertarian Party admonished libertarians who felt that private businesses could make their own rules regarding vaccination. “That is BS,” she said to loud applause. “It is actually statism that is allowing you to open your business, or it will shut you down.” I was a bit confused by this statement, and am still without a firm position as to whether the individual states should be allowed to tell businesses what to do. 

Merissa Hamilton, cofounder of EZAZ, gave one of her fiery and impassioned speeches. When she mentioned that we were fighting for “parental rights,” I initiated that round of applause. Of course, who else ought to be in control of our public schools? But when she asserted that those who don’t vote – and presumably, vote for Republicans – are “contributing to totalitarianism,” I offered a quiet “boo,” unbelieving of the idea that the ballot contains all meaningful power and influence. Surely, the people can do more than just drive over to the voting booth, as Mr. Tzadik intends to prove. Tzadik plans on walking from Sedona, to the US-Mexico border, and then back to Phoenix, by which time he’ll have some two million people in tow. Electorate need not apply! 

During and in between the speeches, I was making laps around the small gathering, stopping several times so as to talk with someone new. My sign proved popular, with a dozen or more people requesting to snap a picture of it. “I’m a refugee from the pyrite state,” I’d say, striking up conversation. They’d ask what part, and I’d tell “outside LA, in the county.” I was not the only one who had fled the state, but most of the others had done so years earlier, when they first saw the storm clouds gathering. Then I’d tell them I’m a correspondent for Stairway Press, and hand out a card. 

A guy named Doug told me that Phoenix and the larger valley are home to the largest concentration of 5G towers in the whole country. Even with no real knowledge of 5G, knowing only of the fears held by many others, a natural paranoid as myself would quiver upon learning of that fact – not that I needed anything more to add to my anxiety. Well, my ideal home wasn’t Arizona anyway; I wanted a cabin up in Montana or Idaho. 

But Arizona is home. And it’s a relief living in a place where there’s so many people who readily acknowledge the horror that humanity is now staring down. No need to hassle my neighbors about the need for medical freedom; perhaps just to educate them a bit about The Great Reset. 

In California, life is already hell: the prices, the traffic, the fires, the oppressive policies. But none of these, save for the Antifa/BLM riots of last year, have riled up Californians en masse. It wasn’t until the vaccine mandates that Californians found themselves backed into a corner, only then able to feel their spine against the wall. Now we watch and read as literally thousands have taken a stand against the mandates – workers, students, parents, police and firefighters. Look at the schools, as waves of students and parents walk out and away from them. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t a bit shocked. Yet I was proud. How encouraging! Maybe I won’t have to wait until California turns to ruins before I decide to move back.  

And it’s not just my two familiar states: uprisings are happening all over the world. Elsewhere, we have surreptitious striking by those employed with Southwest Airlines. In Australia, where medical fascism has already hit an apogee, there’s been clashes between the people and the police. Similar scenes are seen in Italy and New York. So loud have these dissident voices become that’s its nigh impossible not to hear them.

If you can’t hear it, nor see it, certainly you can feel it. Aside from street clashes and rallies, all family gatherings, workplace settings, and checkout lanes have borne witness as to what is happening. This is most unlike day-to-day “politics”; you don’t usually start talking about who or what you’ll soon be voting for, even if those choices affect others. Tax policies are something complained about in private; but vaccine mandates are experienced in a manner that is much more tangible and immediate. This in turn induces feelings of despair, right the before rage and anger. 

Tapping into this generalized resentment is like taking a sharp knife to a large water balloon: you can’t miss, and the result will be dramatic. One will see how much relief their neighbor gets when they realize they’re not alone in this fight. The hopelessness fades, if only a little bit. Besides, it could be an opportunity to find common ground with people whose face you would’ve before spat at. Who knows, together we might just stand a chance in putting a stop to it. 

KM Patten is a secular, right-leaning libertarian and the Arizona correspondent for Stairway Press. He has published one book, Indictments from the Convicted, which you can buy on Amazon. He’s currently working on a series of articles about The Great Reset.

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Kevin Patten

KM Patten is a secular, right-leaning libertarian and the Arizona correspondent for Stairway Press. He has published one book, Indictments from the Convicted, which you can buy on Amazon. He’s currently working on a series of articles about The Great Reset.


  1. As a fellow Arizonan, welcome to the local liberty community! While the state is gradually shifting blue with the influx of liberal Californians, I’m proud of our fellow citizens for standing up and asking the important questions. I’m looking forward to your upcoming series… it’s a topic I discuss with my partner on a weekly basis, but that most people are not receptive to, at least not yet.

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