Dear Dr. Fauci,
My job is to make people better; that’s what I do for a living, although admittedly I work on people a little younger than you.
I’m a pediatrician, and my job is to not only cure infectious diseases but to give advice to young people when they need it and want it.
I’ve been doing it for too many years now.
I want you to be a successful man in history. Right now, I don’t see that happening.
I know that you may not agree, that you might possibly believe that you will be seen as the great man in history, but I have a feeling that your desires may not pan out as planned.
I have a feeling that you’re full of yourself.
Maybe it’s that presidential medal of freedom they gave you, or all those honorary doctorates piled up in your trophy room that are making you think that you are all that.
I can assure you, though, that you can learn a few things.
You have been fear mongering now for five solid months. How long will you go on abusing us with your fear mongering?
Let’s assume that you are not doing this for the purpose of helping Corporate America rape the American small businessman. Let’s assume that you are not doing this for the purpose of instituting remote learning, a flawed methodology that will harm children psychologically now and in the future. Let’s assume that you are not doing this for the purpose of breaking individual solo practitioners like myself so that Corporate America can swoop in and institute their fascist healthcare plan.
Let’s assume that you truly believe that your fear mongering will save the American people.
If that is the case, and you truly believe that your course of action is just and righteous, let me tell you a story about George Washington.
Back during the Revolutionary War, George Washington was the commander of the Continental Army. He was not universally liked or acclaimed by all. Does he remind you of anyone? That’s a rhetorical question. I am, of course, talking about you.
George Washington was not even that great a general strategically speaking. There were other generals who had better skills.
Because George Washington‘s strategic skills were, shall we say, limited, he was of the opinion that the solution to beating the British was to recapture New York City; consequently, he had fortified his forces to accomplish that objective.
Then one day, he got a tap on the shoulder.
The person doing the tapping was a French soldier named Rochambeau.
Yes, said Washington.
Rochambeau pointed towards the south and said: Hey, the British aren’t going to attack from New York City. They are coming up through the south.
Of course I’m simplifying matters a tad.
I am sure that Washington felt like a fool; nevertheless, he put his personal ego aside and decided to listen to Rochambeau, and the rest is history.
Cornwallis was defeated at Yorktown.
It’s a very difficult task to admit to yourself that you might be wrong.
It’s extremely difficult.
It’s even more difficult when you have won many awards.
Awards can cloud one’s judgment.
Ultimately it’s always best to do the right thing.
Washington displayed his skills as a superior general by listening to other people, by putting his ego aside.
That’s why he is celebrated today.
Can you do the same?
Can you put aside the fact that you once pooh-poohed the idea of herd immunity?
Can you now recognize that herd immunity is the way to go?
Can you put aside your mad desire to hastily and dangerously implement a dubiously studied vaccine at warp speed in favor of a time-honored methodology in herd immunity?
We have an excellent example of herd immunity working in the country of Sweden. We also have an example in South Dakota.
Can you put your personal ego aside?
There is no shame in doing so.
Great men can do that.
Are you a great man?
Archer Crosley, MD
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