She was a complete stranger who appeared out of nowhere to stand close beside me as I surveyed the meat in the Safeway cooler.

Knowing what I do about the multiple ways in which the food supply has been poisoned, my attention was on what was available in the organic and grass fed categories.

She leaned down, lifted a 1lb package of hamburger, and said, "It's all poisoned you know."

Surprised, taken aback, I responded, "Really?"

My reporter instincts kicked in. (Say nothing. Let her talk. There could be a great story here).

"Everything is poisoned," she said. "All of it."

With those words, and what followed, she definitely got my full attention.

"They're trying to kill us."

A meat cooler in Safeway is not exactly the venue for a long discussion about life and death and the New World Order psychopaths who have spent literally generations devising ways to kill us off. Nor was it the right moment to suggest she become a subscriber to my newsletter because there she would be among kindred spirits.

The encounter lasted, at best, about 90 seconds.

People speak an average of three words a second. Therefore, in a minute and a half, she gave this complete stranger - me - about one quarter of a 1000-word essay - which usually takes me a couple of hours to draft, write, and rewrite.

I reached for what purported to be "cage free chicken," knowing full well that that probably means such chickens are allowed to run free by the thousands on the floor of a huge chicken barn. When it's time to send them to market, or to wherever they get processed, a huge truck arrives in the middle of the night.

I've not seen exactly how it's done, but I've been told nets are positioned overhead and it's the job of the crew - Mexicans are said to be the best at this - to get under the nets, move as fast as possible in a squatting position and grab these "cage-free" birds by the leg.

They then hand them to another worker who puts them in containers, which might be called cages, that then go in the truck and eventually you'll find what's left at a Safeway cooler - along with a stranger who says "they're trying to kill us. Just like we're chickens ourselves."

She actually said that.

I was tempted to respond and tell her about the half dozen major chicken operations that have mysteriously burned down in the past year, killing millions of chickens and forcing the price of eggs up and up and up. But sometimes I'd rather listen than talk.

She changed tack.

"And these pandemics," she said, "they're planning another one you know."

I did know, but this was not the time and place to get into details.

"They're going to make us wear masks again and get everybody injected again."

At this point I became just a little wary of her close proximity. I wondered, had she been vaxed? Had she figured all this out since then? Or was she one of the very few who had refused to run with the lemmings?

I offered the only response I could in that very short encounter.

"Just say, 'No!' " was the best I could think of, hoping that was what she had said herself.

The creepy thought of shedding crossed my mind. Shedding is the name for how invisible ingredients of the vaccine migrate through a person's skin, become airborne, and can then infect the unvaxed.