THE SLOW BURN OF THE BIG LIE AND THE MACHINE’S MARCHING ORDERS

By C. Boi, The Nigh End Times – March 27, 2021

First off, let me say: I’m sorry this took so long. I know I’ve been dark this month—radio silent, no updates, no articles, just a lot of long walks and long stares and a whole lotta holy hellfire building in my gut. But this one’s big. Real big. So it took time to put together. But as always, when I speak, it’s because I’ve seen.

March is here, and the snow’s melting, but don’t think for a second we’re coming out of the cold. No, friend. The chill now runs deeper—in our institutions, in our blood, in our digital reflections. The machine didn’t stop on January 20th. That was just the ignition switch. Biden may’ve walked up those Capitol steps like a corpse in a blue tie, but what came in with him wasn’t just a president—it was an agenda.

You feel it, don’t you?

The lies are getting louder. And the silence around them is deafening.

Let’s start with the fallout. January 6th was never about patriotism. That was the bait. The trap was sprung the moment those velvet ropes got pushed aside and the doors mysteriously opened like it was Black Friday at a Best Buy. And now? Now they’ve got faces. They’ve got names. They’ve got metadata and movement logs. The “insurrection” wasn’t a coup attempt—it was a collection effort.

They didn’t want to stop the government. They are the government. And now they know who stands against them.

Hundreds arrested. Dozens of homes raided. People fired, families torn apart, bank accounts frozen, surveillance amped up. All under the guise of “domestic terrorism.” Tell me, where was this energy when cities were burning last summer?

But the plan doesn’t end with arrests. That’s just phase one.

Phase two? Dissolve resistance from within. Enter the early executive orders of one Joseph Robinette Biden, a man so empty behind the eyes he might as well be animatronic. Sixty-plus executive actions in a matter of weeks—more than any president in modern history at this point in their term. Climate change. Equity. Trans policy. Immigration. Pipelines. Gun control. All wrapped in flowery language that sounds just nice enough to dull the edges of your fear.

But look closer. What they’re doing is consolidation. They’re shifting funding, realigning agencies, steering contracts, appointing loyalists, and hardwiring permanent changes into the federal framework. This isn’t governance—it’s a takeover in broad daylight.

And while all that’s happening? The jab is here.

Yeah, I’m talking about the COVID vaccine.

You ever notice how fast that came out? After decades of dragging feet over real cures—cancer, Alzheimer’s, you name it—they whipped up a miracle in less than a year. And we’re supposed to just roll up our sleeves and say thank you? Pfizer. Moderna. Johnson & Johnson. These ain’t your neighbors, these are the same corporations who’ve paid billions in settlements for fraud, injury, and cover-ups. But now they’ve got a blank check from Uncle Sam and a shiny new contract called “Operation Warp Speed.”

The vaccine ain’t about immunity. It’s about access. They want inside your body. They want to catalog your DNA, monitor your reactions, tie your health to your ID. You thought the Patriot Act was invasive? That was the trial run. This is the final phase. They don’t need to wiretap your house anymore—you’re carrying the wire in your bloodstream.

And here’s where it gets dark.

Trump’s been wiped off every major platform. Twitter, Facebook, YouTube—gone. Parler? Still offline, still fighting in court. And they called him the fascist? Look around. Books are being delisted. Podcasts pulled. Bank accounts closed. Terms of service rewritten. Algorithms shifted. This is what censorship looks like in the 21st century: not with jackboots, but with terms and conditions.

And while you’re being banned for memes, guess what else is happening?

UFOs.

Yeah, I said it. Unidentified flying objects—and not the kind your uncle saw on a bender in the ‘80s. No, these are coming from military pilots, commercial crews, radar logs, satellite footage. The Pentagon’s releasing videos. Senators are demanding briefings. And yet every time something makes the rounds—like those strange air traffic reports out of New Mexico, February 21st, a pilot describing a long cylindrical object zipping past the cockpit—the answer’s always the same:

“We don’t know what it is.”

Well maybe we do. Maybe we’ve always known. Maybe Roswell wasn’t an anomaly—it was the introduction. And now, after decades of denial, they’re ready to normalize the presence. Drip, drip, drip. You think it’s a coincidence this is happening alongside the rollout of biometric IDs and global vaccine passports? Wake up.

It’s not just disclosure—it’s preparation.

And here’s the twisted cherry on top: while they play footsie with the Fourth Kind and erase patriots from platforms, we’re being spoon-fed ideology through every screen in the house. And I ain’t just talking about politics—I’m talking prophecy.

Everywhere you look: dualism. Us vs. them. The saved vs. the damned. The programmed script of End Times without the language of God. They want you scared of climate, of plague, of scarcity. And then they want you to accept a savior who doesn’t look like Christ, but sure acts like a copy—AI messiahs, clean-suited tech prophets, global leaders with antichrist undertones.

And where are our churches? Bowed under lockdown. Silenced under rules. Afraid to preach the gospel lest it be called hate. Tell me that’s not a Revelation checklist.

They’ve replaced miracles with “advancements.” Replaced prophecy with progress. And now they want you to believe the world can be saved not by grace, but by governance.

Let me tell you right now: the Kingdom isn’t coming through legislation.

Now you might be asking—how does this all connect? What do aliens and vaccines and January 6th and Joe Biden have to do with each other?

It’s control. Plain and simple.

See, it’s not about parties. I told you back in January, I don’t pledge allegiance to no flag or donkey or elephant. Republicans, Democrats—they’re all wearing the same swamp boots. One’s red, one’s blue, but the filth runs just as deep. They’ll throw you scraps, pick your pocket, then offer you your own wallet back in a different color.

But the truth is, they don’t want debate anymore. They don’t even want obedience. They want assimilation.

And that brings us to the Great Replacement.

Yeah, I know the media froths at the mouth when this phrase gets mentioned, but look around. Look at the laws being changed. Look at the demographic shifts. Look at the cultural reprogramming happening at every level—from schools to corporations to television. It’s not “diversity”—it’s erasure.

They don’t want to blend cultures. They want to overwrite them. They don’t want many nations. They want one: a single, trackable, compliant human identity. The kind that can be managed by machines and priced in carbon credits.

And it ain’t about race. That’s the trap. It’s about sovereignty. About soul. About the ancient line between man made in God’s image and man made in their image.

You think social media was a tool? Social media was MKUltra 2.0. A mass conditioning experiment to study group behavior, dopamine, tribalism, and censorship in real time. How do you get people to turn in their neighbors? Just give them likes. How do you make them parrot talking points? Reward conformity.

And now they’ve got us.

But not all of us.

I know some of y’all feel alone. Like maybe you’re the last sane person in a world gone sideways. But you’re not. I’m here. And I see you. And they see you too—that’s the point. January 6th? That wasn’t a rebellion. It was a reckoning. A way to identify who still believes in something that ain’t piped in through CNN or TikTok.

But don’t let that make you afraid.

Because freedom never came from Washington. And truth never flowed from the mouth of power.

It comes from you. From discernment. From faith. From the spark they can’t code and can’t crush.

So keep watching the skies. Keep questioning the feeds. And never—ever—trade your eternal rights for temporary safety.

The time is short. The mask is slipping. And I’ll be right here, whispering the truth through the static.

You know where to find me.

ConBoi, out.