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Saturday, June 4, 2016

The Latest Phony Flu Vaccine 'Science'

Bedtime last night was not too much ahead of midnight.

Part of the reason for staying up so late was Schitt's Creek ─ I've been watching consecutive episodes for the current season on Shaw's 'on demand' feature because I missed almost all of them as they were broadcast regularly.

I've grown to love that eccentric Rose family.

Alexis Rose ─ played by Annie Murphy ─ is an absolute delight to watch.  And she has magnificent calves, I must say!

Daniel Levy as her brother David has become someone I actually very much like, too.

The show makes me long for life in some small, friendly community.

But I wonder how long it's going to take before Wikipedia has an article on actress Annie Murphy like it does most of the other cast?

I seemed to sleep rather well overnight.  It was something like 7:22 a.m. when I first checked the time and decided to rise for the day ─ I hadn't even taken a bathroom break through the night.  I usually do right after my first block of sleep comes to an end ─ and the fragmented portions follow for the remainder of my night.

To my considerable surprise, I found that my younger brother Mark was also getting up ─ he had in fact already showered.

That's at the very least a full two hours earlier than he would normally get up here at home on a weekend.

I spent most of my morning working on the new post I began on Wednesday at my Lawless Spirit website.  If nothing interferes between now and tomorrow morning ─ such as my wife Jack coming home to spend the night here later today ─ I may actually get the post completed and published tomorrow.

The weather is sunny and very hot.

After Mark left for the day around 12:45 p.m., I was anon outside in the backyard to take some Sun.

I had intended to lie upon the sundeck; but a neighbouring house has an open sheltered section on their second floor where they have apparently decided today to set up a buffet or something for expected company.

That section overlooks almost the entirety of the backyard here.

So rather than present myself for open display on the sundeck, I instead opted to just sit in a chair with my bared feet on the ground.

In the act of sitting and facing towards the Sun, my back was essentially towards the onlookers.

I commenced my session in just a pair of brief shorts at 1:22 p.m., and derived just over 45 minutes out there.

And that brings me up to date, so to speak ─ it is 3:12 p.m. this very moment.

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In the entry that I posted yesterday from my journal of 41 years ago (i.e., June 3, 1975), I had mentioned receipt of a book titled Almuric by Robert E. Howard.

Had I known that the book was to be mentioned in that specific journal entry, I would have offered some scans of it.

So I am doing this very thing today.

Here is the front and back dust jacket:


This is the dust cover flap from inside the front cover, describing the contents of the book:


Here, too, is the dust cover flap from inside the back cover, advertising a different Robert E. Howard book:


I also scanned the publishing details, along with a black & white illustration:


Finally, I even saved the address label on the package the book was delivered in, along with the postage stamps.

The address was my mother's home ─ I used it for my own mailing address, for I was fairly unsettled.  However, the house the address was for now no longer exists ─ that's why I do not mind displaying it:


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I  haven't noticed any mainstream hype promoting influenza vaccinations so far this month, but the following report states that the push is there to submit to them when such shots become available.

It also refers to two studies that I know are so self-serving and biased that I am not going to make any effort to locate either of them:

Here we are, nearly three weeks before summer, and they're already starting the sales pitch for flu shots by making ridiculous claims that can't possibly be true.

Forget "Christmas creep" -- it's FLU SHOT SEASON that's coming earlier and earlier every year!

They're not selling the vaccine itself just yet. That'll come around September.

But they ARE desperately trying to soften you up with an endless series of hokum studies that make it seem as if the flu shot can not only prevent flu, but will also stop everything from heart attacks to shark attacks.

The latest is not one but TWO new studies that make bogus claims based on shoddy science.

The first claims that if you have heart failure, getting a flu shot will cut your risk of hospitalization due to heart disease by 30 percent and hospitalization due to respiratory disease by 16 percent.

The second is even more absurd, claiming flu shots will cut the risk of dementia in heart failure patients by a third -- and by even higher levels if you get the shot every year.

Gotta love that last part. Isn't that convenient? It works best if you dutifully get the shot each and every year.

Talk about pressure tactics!

Let me tell you what's really going on here: nothing.

Neither of these studies were clinical trials. They were studies using patient records -- someone banging away at a computer comparing patients who had flu shots to those who didn't.

But they're not really comparing people who get flu shots to people who don't.

For the most part, they're comparing people who get more healthcare to those who don't, because THAT'S who gets flu shots every year -- people who are proactive about their health in the first place.

They get the shot because they see the doctor for regular checkups and are TOLD to get it.

Since they don't know any better, they do.

Folks who don't get the shot, on the other hand, usually aren't people who avoid the vaccine... but people who avoid the doctor.

So OF COURSE they're less healthy overall and OF COURSE they're going to be more likely to suffer chronic disease -- but it's not because they didn't get the shot.

It's because they didn't take good care of themselves!

Forget these bogus studies and focus on the REAL science, which shows the shot can barely even do what it's supposed to. It offers little protection from flu -- and almost no protection at all in seniors -- so there's a not a chance in you-know-where that it's going to pack any other benefits.

Learn the REAL story behind the flu shot here.

With facts on flu....
If you're gullible, though, and desire loading your system with unnecessary toxic vaccines, here are a couple of reports proclaiming the validity and authenticity of such weak and slanted studies:



As for the report that I quoted in full, I resist its contention that folks who seek regular medical care are more proactive towards their health than people who do not regularly seek the attention of a physician.

How can anyone who submits to every damned procedure a doctor suggests or recommends be healthier than people who think for themselves and stay clear of doctors when there is no existing medical emergency?

A specious claim, to my thinking.

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I have considerable T.V. programming to catch up on, so I am going to close now with this post from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

Just three days earlier, I had celebrated the first day of June by getting myself very badly sunburned. 

Note that I often made entries in my journal throughout any one day, so the entries often seemed disjointed in time.  

By that I mean that I would be speaking of some event or plan in future tense; and then the very next sentence would discuss how that event or plan turned out.
WEDNESDAY, June 4, 1975

It is pouring.

I spent another consciously positioned night of intermittent sleep.  

I went to Safeway vainly looking for day old bread, and came away only with eggs and lettuce.  Now to the library, hoping to find Jean-Pierre's clearly written address so I can type up a letter I have composed.

I was partially successful; I took no other books out, returning the one on insects.

At 2:30 p.m. I took off for Uptown's and blew $4 on apples and pears; hence I definitely shall rely on Safeway's older produce largely, and save my cash for special dishes. 

About 5:30 p.m. Art called; I finally let him in for his daily persistence, stupidly entertaining it might be important:  "Come on over for a drink."

He's as sick as dad when it comes to begging for my companionship in his lonely time of woman trouble; Angie still opposes him cause of Friday.

I only had two small shots of wine, though he pressed and whined, even suggesting someday I'll be older and want someone to sit and talk with.  What madness!

He blew $6.15 on Chubby chicken of which I had 3 pieces.

Later I was fed some delicious liver & potatoes.

Angie was working.

He is considering taxi driving.  He now wants to sell his shotgun; I'll speak to Mark tomorrow.

I left about 11:10 p.m.

It had quit raining as far back as my trip to Uptown's.

Retirement was near midnight.  My shirt was caked with leakage.
I should here mention that my room was located in a house on Ninth Street & Third Avenue.

Art Smith was an older friend and co-worker who was in his early 40s, married, and with three kids.

He loved to drink ─ sherry and vodka were his two preferred choices. 

He had attempted to visit me the previous couple of days, but I feigned being absent.  I knew that he only wanted to haul me off back to his home to sit on my ass and drink with him all the remainder of whatever day it was ─ that was his fashion.

To his credit, he had taken me in to the Mount Pleasant area of Vancouver on both of the previous Friday and Saturday to offer assistance in moving my father Hector and my father's girlfriend Maria Fadden.

Art's long and unexplained absence was what his wife Angelina ("Angie") was bummed at him about.

But my day before becoming mixed up with Art involved a trip to the library to try and establish just what the handwritten address actually was for a chap named Jean-Pierre Gaillard of Morsang-sur-Orge ─ I evidently wrote the name incorrectly in my journal the previous day because it was utterly unfamiliar to me.

This Jean-Pierre Gaillard had written to me upon finding my name and address published in a fan letter-page of a Marvel comic-book.

I apparently had already composed in handwriting a reply, but I wanted to type my response after first determining just what his exact address was ─ I thought he might have written Morsang-nu-orge.  

Anyway, after Art imposed his will upon me and took me obediently back to his home, I held off getting plastered, and had to listen to Art's woe.  He at least fed me ─ including some A&W Chubby Chicken.

As for Uptown's market, I cannot place it any longer ─ I can but speculate that it may have been on Sixth Street, perhaps a few blocks uphill from City Hall.

Art was correct about one thing ─ how much I miss having friends to drink with.  But I don't have any because I cannot afford to drink out ─ I can barely afford to supply myself with enough drink here at home.  

I would need to be free of debt and separated from my wife Jack to be able to ever afford to go and sit in a bar with any regularity.

But back to the journal, it would seem that my sunburned back was oozing rather copiously.  I am probably fortunate to have not gotten an infection ─ I washed my laundry at a laundromat, and thus would not have likely washed my bedding very frequently at all.

Okay ─ time now to proofread this, and get it published so that I can get into some television programming!
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