I am an inveterate folkie. I never thought anything could make we want to rip a guitar off someone's body and smash it, and him. NIH Director Francis Collins has succeeded.

How dare you, Francis? Clearly you lack the gene for shame. Perhaps your bioweapon buddies could cook up a gene-altering jab to help you out

Smarmy, self satisfied murderer, Francis Collins, not only destroys the truth, he sings about it, too.

Does he whistle while he works, suppressing emails that contain smoking guns and protecting his righteous buddies like Fauci, et. al.?

Does he have a rainbow ‘round his shoulder and hum “Zippidy Doo Dah, Zippidy Day, My, Oh, MY! What a wonderful day, Plenty of funding comini’ my way! Zippidy Doo Dah, Zippidy Day!” on his neat little guitar with the custom inlay of the double stranded DNA, inlaid on the neck while he colludes with DOD operatives to transhumanize humanity without telling them the worlds to the song that they are actually singing?

How sweet. How folky. Sort of puts me in mind of the super cultured Commandant of Auschwitz Concentration Camp who loved dogs and small children, listened to Wagner, read Goethe and, according to reports, grew spectacular roses.

Same sort of genial, cultured, trustworthy leader we can admire and look up to.

How lucky we are. Perhaps when he has been tried for crimes against humanity, they will give him a guitar to while away his time in the Death Row cell he occupies during his appeals and requests for clemency.

And he might even write some new and even more poignant lyrics. Facing execution has been known to do that for people with an artistic bent.

Is that