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Saturday, July 30, 2016

Tylenol on Trial in Alabama │ Obesity Proven to Be Life-Shortening

And so it continues ─ not a cent accrued into my AdSense account yesterday; and not a cent showing up for today, either.

I think I made it to bed before midnight last night, but I cannot declare it positively.

I was surprised to find a solidly overcast sky out there this morning.  Rain even seemed potential.

However, things cleared up, and before midday the Sun reigned.

I must confess to feeling better overall physically today than I did yesterday.

My younger brother Mark had some interesting interactions with my two step-sons today.

First, in the morning he seemed to be heading off in his van with my youngest step-son Pote ─ that bewildered me.

I was to later learn that Mark's cargo truck was somewhere being repaired.  He'd gotten a call that the task had been completed, and the truck could be retrieved.

However, since it is not possible to drive his cargo truck and his van simultaneously, he needed licenced 18-year-old Pote to drive back his van.

Meantime, 21-year-old Tho had a shower and soon took off in his car, but it sounded to me to be most unwell.

Pote ─ driving Mark's van ─ would have had to follow Mark and his cargo truck to wherever it is that Mark keeps the truck parked.  And then Mark would have driven both of them back here.

They were home for awhile, and then Mark announced to me that he was going to go and get his hair cut.  Possibly it was into the noon-hour by then.

But Pote seemed to be leaving with him again.  So perhaps as reward to Pote for helping him out earlier, Mark may have been taking Pote to work and saving him having to bus there.

Pote is employed in a sports shop over at Guildford, so weekend work is commonplace for him.

After they had gone, Tho phoned me on my cellphone and asked if Mark was here.

Apparently Tho had taken his car for repairs, and needed a ride home.  So I explained that Mark had gone for the haircut.

Tho asked for Mark's cellphone number, and I subsequently texted it to him.

And sure enough, later on they both showed up together ─ Mark must have picked him up.

Mark does not normally interact as much as this with both the boys.

I had an interesting bit of conversation with Pote just prior to him leaving for work with Mark.  Pote asked me if his mother had talked to me about a trip to Thailand.

I told him that she had mentioned intending to somehow go in October, and that I had said I would keep it in mind when she asked if I wanted to come, too.

But I can not afford to go ─ it is not something I am seriously considering.

Pote said that his mother had asked him about coming, but he felt in no position to be doing so.  For one thing, he was considering a career change around then, and he also wanted to keep earning money.

He's saving up for something, apparently.

He encouraged that I should give consideration to going.

We also talked about passports ─ I was heartened that he was privy to potential implications for him in visiting Thailand under the aegis of a Thai passport.

He was aware that young men of a certain age are subject to military conscription as determined by a sort of lottery.

As I understand it, when a young man is called up, he must blindly draw a stone or marble or something from a collection of others.

I think it's a dark or black stone that identifies that the lottery participant immediately becomes subject to military induction.

Well, Pote left Thailand in September 2008 to come and live here in Canada, long before he had to be concerned with this military selection process.

He's just about of that age now...and he is a Thai citizen, even though he is also Canadian.

It is not implausible that were he to go to Thailand under a Thai passport, he might find himself entrapped and compelled to participate in that military lottery.

He is very aware of this danger, even though his mother pooh-poohs any such threat.

Anyway, there will have to be something of a financial miracle before I would be making any trips to Thailand, but I have to admit that I hate subjecting my wife Jack to having to travel there by herself ─ it's a damned dreary haul, for there is not a direct flight from Vancouver.

It truly helps to have a traveling companion.

There is naught else concerning my day thus far that merits mention.  I did acquire a further 40 minutes of sunshine this afternoon commencing at 2:12 p.m. when I sat in a chair in the backyard and faced into the Sun.  I was donned only in a pair of cut-offs.

There is a fairly continuous cool breeze today that made the experience easily borne, and I barely perspired.

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I love this!



You can read the story for yourself ─ one good example is at thelocal.seDid this Swedish cop just make the arrest of the year?

Basically, off-duty Swedish policewoman Mikaela Kellner was sunbathing with friends when a guy 'lifted' one of their cellphones.

As soon as it was realized, Mikaela ran the culprit to the ground and basically overpowered him ─ another off-duty policewoman quickly came to assist.

And that was that ─ the fool was soon arrested by on-duty officers.

Nothing is said, but I cannot help but wonder if the miscreant mightn't have been one of the many 'newcomers' to have flooded Europe from Muslim nations?

Regardless, that gal has some darned nice musculature!

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Have you any idea what the cause of the majority of cases of acute liver failure in the U.S. is?

It's a medication that you have probably taken ─ and it can suddenly cause liver failure even at the recommended dosage, despite there never having been an issue with the medication previously.

The medication is acetaminophen ─ the primary active ingredient in drugs like Tylenol. 
 
There's a lawsuit going on in the States against McNeil Consumer Healthcare, the maker of Tylenol.  The suit alleges that the company has known for many, many years that its product is deadly dangerous, but it has hidden that information for fear of hurting sales.

Screw you and your loved ones, though ─ the sales must be protected at all costs.

You can read about it here:


As far as I am concerned, the public cannot trust any claim that a pharmaceutical corporation makes about its products.

But let's jump to something else ─ have you ever heard of the obesity paradox?

A recent Lancet study didn't seem to find that obese people should find much solace in embracing that paradox.
The associations of both overweight and obesity with higher all-cause mortality were broadly consistent in four continents. This finding supports strategies to combat the entire spectrum of excess adiposity in many populations.

Here are a few reports about it that make for easier assimilation:





So maybe it's time to shun the carbohydrates of any description, and to instead start filling up on a high saturated fat diet?

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I wish to close today's post now with this entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house I was renting in was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

I seem to have been visiting my father Hector in Burnaby almost weekly since he and his girlfriend Maria Fadden moved to an apartment at 5870 Sunset Street ─ they had been living in an apartment in the Mount Pleasant area of Vancouver. 

They made the move no more than two months or so earlier.

Typically, I would walk to their apartment, and then walk back to my room ─ believe me, it was quite a jaunt!
WEDNESDAY, July 30, 1975

Just after extinguishing my light last night, I heard David leaving me a note.  

He says in it that he has to move out August 1, as does every tenant, but hasn't found anything.  He asks if he can stay here a couple days should he fail, and left me a key so I could meet him at noon.

I got up long past 8:00 a.m. feeling most unrefreshed.

I didn't go to see David, but set off for my father's place, taking for him my Dyno-trainer; I took along my clock so I could first get in a couple hours sunning, but there were too many clouds to make it worthwhile.

He was out, but not so garrulous Marie.  

Eventually she had me on my way out the door with $10.25 to buy her a bottle of vodka, as she and dad got bombed yesterday, and she spent a night in a hotel.

But I met him outside in the parking lot where a couple sold him a box of blueberries for $2.50.

He was feeling good, and had a barbecued chicken, some potato salad, most of a mickey of whiskey, and a jug of white Beau Sejour.

Time dragged afore supper, and I had two good shots of whiskey, but I finally ate ─ I had two helpings instead of the one I only should have, according to last night's resolutions.

Dad gave me $5 to go in on 2 Olympic tickets.

Marie gave me an old-style toaster, and stashed some leftover macaroni and what appears to be half the blueberries into my bag.

When I left not too long past 6:00 p.m., they came, intending to go to New West to drink, and trying to get me to go via the bus as well, but I did not.

Actually, dad was voluble and emphatic he was not going to have anything to do with Marie.

Anyway, I came home, and found, as I had expected would show up, a note saying to pay the rent to the girl upstairs.

I exercised.

On the morrow, I shall mail my entry to the Corn Flakes "Funny French Bicycle Sweepstakes."

Bedtime shall be by 9:10 p.m. or 9:15 p.m.
Philip David Prince was an old friend I had known since Grade VIII at Newton Junior High School out in Surrey during the 1962/1963 school term.

At this time, though, he was also living in New Westminster in a huge rooming house ─ Fraser Apartments, maybe?  It was ultimately to be demolished.

However, he was the sort of guy I preferred to visit as opposed to have visit me ─ he never knew when it was time for him to go.

And he had little compunction about helping himself to my sparse supplies of food.

I wouldn't have countenanced him staying at my place ─ there would be no freedom from him.  And I doubt that he would have been in any rush to find a place of his own once he was ensconced in mine.

He was actually very lonely, I think.  I just never fully understood how much until in recent years.

David died in 1984 at the age of 35 in his room in a Skid Road hotel.

The "Dyno-trainer" I was taking to my father was an exercising device that I had lost interest in.

As I have said in previous journal entries, I cannot be sure that I ever remember visiting my father at this apartment on Sunset Street, so I certainly cannot say where it is that I had planned to do any sunning on my way to see him.

He and Maria were alcoholics, and they often got in terrible rows with one another. 

It must have been a flat of blueberries that he lucked into.

Mention  of "Beau Sejour" wine rather brings back memories ─ I had forgotten all about that brand.  It isn't one that  have seen in many years, and so it probably no longer exists on the market.

Researching this a little, I found this statement:
The Beau Séjour vineyard is now home to St. Hubertus Estate Winery.
The $5 my father gave me was intended as a share in two Olympic Lottery tickets.  I wish that we could have won something before he died and left my life, but we never did.

I suspect that he and Maria hoped that if they left to go to New Westminster at the same time I was, then I would have boarded a bus with them and likely gone drinking with them, too.

I had no intention of becoming embroiled in that scene.

Besides, I truly was a devoted walker.   

I would offer more commentary on that entry, but it is just after 8:00 p.m. and I have much else I want to do ─ including T.V. and some drinks!
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