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The media war against Hydroxychloroquine.
By Marivel Guzman
Hydroxychloroquine is safe and cheap treatment for COVID-19 patients. The anti-malaria drug has been safely used for 60 years.
Countries that used Hydroxychloroquine from the start of the COVID-19 epidemic ranked lowest in deaths.
India population
1,319,484,175, death ratio to population .000042
Indonesia population
367,367,729 death ratio to
Population. . 000015
Pakistan pooulation
213,249,791 death ratio to population . 000028
Bangladesh population
163,684,837 death ratio to population . 000024
Mexico has almost double the population of Italy and France, and the COVID-19 death rate is almost identical.
The difference in low mortality in Mexico was the use of Hydroxychloroquine.
Mexico population 128,863,734 death ratio to population. .00046 %
France population 65,213,511 death ratio to population. .00042
Italy population
61,388,126 death ratio to population. .00046
Countries that didn’t use, stopped, or started the use later on of the drug Hydroxychloroquine to treat COVID-19 patients rank higher in death ratio to population.
United States population
328,277,386 death ratio to population. . 054
Brazil population
295,282,743 death ratio to population. . 055
Strangely enough, both of the presidents of these countries, Donald Trump and Bolsonaro advocated for the use of Hydroxychloroquine, but their health advisors negligently spoked against its use. The result: higher unnecessary deaths in both countries.
Three countries are in a special category: China, Japan and South Korea
The use of Eastern Medicine combined with Chloroquine proved their success with the low death ratio to population.
The numbers of infections with SARS-CoV-2 is not as important as the actual deaths of COVID-19.
COVI19 #Hydroxychloroquine
SARSCoV2
Pandemia

A Journal Entry on the Pandemic and the Public Health Narrative
By Marivel Guzman
Originally published May 02, 2020
The world shifted on March 11, 2020—the day the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic. From that point on, everything changed. The “death toll” became the news.
I still have strong reservations about the way lockdowns were implemented. As someone with a background in nursing, I struggle to accept mass lockdowns as a viable measure to stop the spread of infection. There is a fundamental difference between being infected and being sick. Never in the history of outbreaks have healthy populations been quarantined alongside the infected. Quarantine has always been a targeted public health measure—until now.
I read scientific journals regularly. I review peer-reviewed studies and stay alert to updates from researchers in epidemiology, microbiology and infectious diseases from around the world. This has exposed me to a wide range of conflicting views, especially concerning the CDC’s revised death certificate guidelines.
As a small business owner who supervises cleaning crews, I’ve entered more than 60 homes throughout Southern cities. I ask questions, observe conditions and engage with people. In all that time, I have yet to meet a single person who is ill—or who personally knows someone who is. At least not in the communities where I’ve worked.
I also traveled extensively during the height of the pandemic. I flew internationally and domestically, crossed borders, and moved freely between states and countries. I visited three states in Mexico, spent time in France and Amsterdam, and traveled across a dozen states in India. During my visit to India, I stayed in two rural states where internet access was extremely limited—available in theory, but with no provider towers in the countryside. People in those areas had no idea that a virus was sweeping the globe. There were no masks, no lockdowns, no fear. Daily life continued uninterrupted, untouched by the panic that gripped other parts of the world.
In my daily visits to the post office to ship plants, I took the opportunity to speak with postal workers at the USPS business center at 3101 W. Sunflower Ave. in Santa Ana, Calif. In March and April 2020, none of the employees were wearing masks. Several told me they had been instructed to purchase their own, but masks were not available for sale anywhere. I contacted Evelina Ramirez, Corporate Communications Media Relations officer at USPS, with a formal inquiry regarding employee protection protocols, package handling, sick leave, and contingency planning.
In her written response, Ramirez stated that the Postal Service was “sharing the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s (CDC) guidance… to our employees via stand up talks, employee news articles, messages on bulletin boards, and internal messaging inside USPS workplaces.” She added that the service was not experiencing operational impacts at that time and was reviewing contingency plans should the need arise. Regarding imported goods, she cited the CDC’s guidance noting “very low risk” of surface transmission via packages and that “there have been no reported cases of COVID-19 in the United States associated with imported goods.”
Despite the lack of protective measures early on, postal workers told me that no one had called in sick during those first critical weeks. By late spring, masks became standard and plexiglass barriers were installed at customer counters.
As a freelance journalist, I’ve covered numerous public events: visits to supermarkets and hospitals, senior meal programs, food distributions for the homeless, mask giveaways and shelter operations. I’ve reported on the ground, face to face, without a mask. No one I’ve interviewed or lived with has fallen ill.
What I’m trying to say is this: life was still functioning before the pandemic was declared. Once it was, everything became filtered through a lens of fear and mortality.
Doctors and scientists who questioned the official narrative were dismissed, discredited or censored. Open discourse—essential in both science and journalism—was sacrificed. Censorship became normalized in the United States.

Operation Fear: Plan B Unleashed
Posted on August 03, 2011 by Marivel Guzman
In Mexico, May 1st is celebrated as “El Día del Trabajo,” or Labor Day, a national holiday dedicated to honoring workers and their contributions to society. The origins of this observance trace back to the labor movements in the United States, particularly the events of May 1, 1886, in Chicago, where workers protested for an eight-hour workday—a movement that faced severe repression. This date was later adopted internationally to commemorate workers’ struggles and achievements.
In Mexico, the first Labor Day parade took place around 1913, with approximately 25,000 workers advocating for labor rights. However, it wasn’t until May 1, 1923, that the holiday was officially recognized and celebrated nationwide. Traditionally, the day is marked by parades and demonstrations organized by labor unions and workers’ groups. These events serve as platforms for expressing labor demands, showcasing solidarity, and reflecting on the progress of workers’ rights in the country.
Growing up in Mexico, I participated in these parades as a student, marching alongside peers from elementary to secondary schools. Union workers also joined, and the government would often display its latest military equipment, personnel, and other apparatuses of state power. At the time, I didn’t question these shows of force, but with hindsight, I understand their deeper implications.
Mexico, officially known as the United Mexican States, is a nation rich in natural resources and cultural heritage. Since the arrival of the Spaniards in 1492, the country has faced numerous invasions and interventions, including those by France, the United States, and more recently, economic pressures from institutions like the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Despite these challenges, Mexico has demonstrated resilience, continually striving for sovereignty and social justice.
The relationship between Mexico and the IMF has been complex. Mexico joined the IMF in 1945 and has since engaged in multiple arrangements with the institution. Notably, during the 1980s, Mexico faced a significant debt crisis, leading to interventions and structural adjustments advocated by the IMF. These measures aimed at stabilizing the economy but also brought about debates regarding national sovereignty and economic policy.
In contemporary times, Labor Day in Mexico continues to be a day of reflection and activism. While some regions maintain the tradition of parades and public demonstrations, others observe the day as a public holiday, providing workers with a day of rest. The essence of the day remains rooted in acknowledging the struggles and achievements of the working class and emphasizing the importance of labor rights in the nation’s ongoing development.
Understanding the historical and socio-political context of “El Día del Trabajo” offers insight into Mexico’s enduring journey toward equitable labor practices and the empowerment of its workforce.
“When a nation boasts an educated population like Mexico, those in power must wield an iron grip—because an informed society refuses to be deceived.” Akashma