16yo kid from Ontario was coerced into getting the jab, now 2 weeks later he is dead

Sean Hartman was a normal kid from Ontario. He wanted to play hockey with his friends. The hockey fraternity (by this is meant the municipality which owns the arena and the organized hockey league in which he played) thought it to be a good idea to follow the suggestions of the province's Chief Medical Officer of Health (an officer of the Lieutenant-Governor) who assured them only 10 days ago that the covid19 jab was safe and thus to coerce the youngsters under their guidance and supervision to get the jab. For safety's sake.

Not wanting to be left out, Sean allowed himself to be coerced and signed up for the jab. Now he is dead.

Let's take a closer look at this coercion. The kernel of this dangerous cancer lies in the fact that it was he who decided to sit down peacefully and have a medical professional administer the jab to him. In this upside-down world, nobody is to blame but himself. Not the medical administrator, nor the league administrators, nor the municipal administrators, nor the provincial administrators. Together their advice forms a mammoth weight in favour of the jab. 16 year old Sean took into consideration all of that mass--delivered by his elders--and added it to the uniform torrent of media advice. On the other end of the balance he was unable to find much advice, and that advice he did discover (if any, for the censorship on virtually all media platforms is absolute and inflexible) was poorly formatted and badly presented.

So Sean decided all by himself to take the smooth draught of soporific obedience and offer up his arm to the demigods of hockey. And that was how ended his life.

At least there is a silver lining to Sean's cloud. His grandfather has a newfound purpose at the end of his life: to carry a sign by the roadside and gather the occasional honks of passing automobiles on the roadside of Highway 27 near New Tecumseth.

And on 29 September 2021 there endeth the Hartman bloodline.

LE CORBEAU ET LE RENARD
Maître Corbeau, sur un arbre perché,
Tenait en son bec un fromage.
Maître Renard, par l'odeur alléché,
Lui tint à peu près ce langage :
Et bonjour, Monsieur du Corbeau,
Que vous êtes joli ! que vous me semblez beau !
Sans mentir, si votre ramage
Se rapporte à votre plumage,
Vous êtes le Phénix des hôtes de ces bois.
À ces mots le Corbeau ne se sent pas de joie,
Et pour montrer sa belle voix,
Il ouvre un large bec, laisse tomber sa proie.
Le Renard s'en saisit, et dit : Mon bon Monsieur,
Apprenez que tout flatteur
Vit aux dépens de celui qui l'écoute.
Cette leçon vaut bien un fromage sans doute.
Le Corbeau honteux et confus
Jura, mais un peu tard, qu'on ne l'y prendrait plus.