At one point I walked outside to join others in the backyard and they were whispering about my husband and I being “Trump supporters.” They shut up when they saw me and I said, “Damn, that reminds me. I forgot my MAGA hat!”

My husband’s brother, who is hosting the wedding, got Covid last spring and he told me a half-hour story about his battle with it at the kitchen table last night, as if he were a mythological figure. He almost died, actually. Sick for a month.

And I just looked at him and told him his brother—my husband—got it and was able to go back to work in three days after I scored him Ivermectin. And I swear to God, the whole table had like a thick fog come over their eyes and there was just silence. And the mood was that me and my husband were some kind of crazy renegades.

Don’t you think they would have been thrilled for my husband? That he got well!? That he survived? Or interested in how we did it? No, they’re just willing to die. This family, guys, this family is more brainwashed than any group of people that I’ve come across. It’s almost palpable, it’s almost like I can see the thin veils over their heads. It’s just so fricking sad.

And the thing is, they’re so smug. They think they’re soooo right, and soooo smart and so much more enlightened. It’s just unbelievable. You can’t red-pill these people because whenever truth enters the room, they literally zone out. They become zombies.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.