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Saturday, May 13, 2017

Starch and Evolutionary Human Brain Size │ Saturated Fats NOT Linked to Heart Disease │ The Unrestricted Salt Intake of Almost Everyone Is Fine

Wow!

I logged into my AdSense account just now, hoping to see that I had at least accumulated a penny today, and I was almost electrified to see an accumulation of 74¢!

Encouraging.

Well, my younger brother Mark was at it again last evening ─ too juiced to keep awake and watch T.V. I left him passed out in his chair in the living room with the T.V. for company, and was comfortably in bed by 11:09 p.m.

Had Mark been in possession of his faculties, I would have watched T.V. longer, and not gotten to bed until closer to midnight.

My sleep was very broken overnight, however. I really do think that I am only asleep for about half of the hours that I spend in bed ─ and with such bizarre dreams.

I could have risen a little after 5:00 a.m., but there was no point. So I rolled over onto my stomach ─ the position I usually slept in for most of my sleeping life ─ and made another return to sleep. It was 6:22 a.m. when I checked the time and called it a night.

There is no question that I am not deriving full benefit from my time in bed. I rose to work at the new post I began yesterday at my Lawless Spirit website, but I was already welcoming the prospect of the nap that would be coming soon enough thereafter.

How often does someone get up from bed for having slept themselves out, yet is already anticipating a later nap?

Such am I.

I did indeed have that nap. I think I went down at 10:44 a.m., and was in bed for just over 1¼ hours.

We had some morning rain, but the afternoon became fairly sunny.

I had some interesting conversation with Mark in the early afternoon just as he was readying to leave for the day ─ it relates to a pair of glasses within a black case that have been lying on the dining table for at least four days now. My wife Jack first drew my attention to them on Thursday, asking me about them ─ I had just assumed that it was a case for Mark's cellphone, for it had been there a day or two before that.

Well, I asked Mark about them today, and learned that they are prescription glasses.

When I tried them on after my wife Jack had drawn my attention to them, I was horrified at how forcefully they seemed to twist my eyeballs ─ it was like I was being suddenly forced to be cross-eyed.

I smartly removed the infernal things, consterned that anybody could possibly bear wearing them.

Mark admitted that he couldn't wear them either for that very reason ─ they were too overpowering. However, he said that the optometrist or whomever he had seen and gotten the fitting from claimed that he would adjust to them.

The guy also claimed that Mark had a small cataract developing ─ in his right eye, I think. Mark was asked if he wanted to be put on a list for a corneal lens replacement.

I didn't ask Mark what he responded. But he has ─ since seeing that specialist ─ been seeking information on perhaps naturally becoming cured of a cataract. Of course, he is deeply hampered because he hasn't a clue on how to use a computer.

I'll try to help him out a little, but I won't be seeing him again in all likelihood until tomorrow morning.

We'll see how that goes.

Here now are a few more photos that were taken last Fall when my wife Jack charged up the cost of a trip back to Thailand to see her mother for the first time since early March 2013.

I think the photos were taken on November 20, 2016; and probably in her home village of Nong Soong, which is maybe a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

The photos are self-explanatory, but are there really nine of the little gaffers in this first shot?




This is my wife Jack:





I wonder what will become of them all?

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For those of us not entrenched believers that Man has only existed by the hand of God for...what, is it 5,000 or 6,000 years?...the following short article outlining how Mankind may have evolved to become a thinking, bigger-brained creature, all thanks to developing an enzyme allowing the efficient digestion of starch, ought to be quite interesting to the reader:

LifeSpa.com

I think where most people go wrong with the concept of Mankind only being about 6,000 years old is that this notion is extended to all of Creation ─ which is preposterous. Everything else was already here, and had been for aeons.

Now, I don't think that I would say that I believe we really are that 'young,' but I can imagine it. All we would have to accept is that the supposed earlier versions of 'us' were not really earlier versions of 'us' at all, and were no more human than are the apes of today.

Maybe some of those versions were more intelligent than today's apes, and may have thus been capable of using fire, tools, and even had an ability for art. But they were not imbued by a Creator God with our potential.

They were just very smart animals.

Anyway, that's my Creation workaround. Consequently, the creatures under discussion in that article would have to be animalistic beings placed here long before the creation of Mankind.

Remember, this isn't necessarily my belief system. I am just reconciling how there might be a possibility that true Man has only existed a mere 6,000 years.

Of course, Creation 'week' would have to be figurative, with only Day 7 applying to our start 6,000 years ago.

ððððððð

Three cardiologists banded together to proclaim that saturated fats are not the villain in the prevalence of heart disease in the world today ─ and in fact, much of the prescribed advice to treat and avoid suffering from it in the first place is part and parcel of the epidemic.

Here are a couple of reports about this:

TheGuardian.com

JacksDailyDose.com

I agree with the contention the cardiologists in question are making, but I also see how impractical it is for most people to be able to follow a truly healthy diet. They cannot afford it.

I even have trouble affording to eat as properly as I would like to be able to do, despite knowing better.

Just yesterday I mentioned in my blog post my intention to put greater effort into including avocados regularly in my diet. And then in this morning's Vancouver Sun, I came across this article: Holy guacamole!: Avocado sticker shock could be here to stay.

But at least Canada's avocado prices ought to be unaffected by President Trump's plan to raise tariffs on Mexican exports to the States:
Many are concerned avocados could face a further price hike - President Trump has threatened to levy tariffs on Mexico and exit NAFTA, which could come as a blow to avocado fans.
That's from Telegraph.co.uk: Why avocado prices have hit all-time high.

ððððððð

The American Heart Association (AHA) just will not let hold of outdated concepts.

Note these two reports on a recent salt (sodium) study that proclaimed how we need to place our focus upon other dietary elements than sodium, for most of us are eating perfectly safely without reducing our intake to the silly low levels prescribed by the AHA:

Consumer.HealthDay.com

JacksDailydose.com

You may have noticed in that first reference that the AHA not only contested the verdict of that study, but also the conclusions of an earlier one that concluded that limiting salt intake to what the AHA recommends was as every bit as dangerous as having an extremely high salt intake.

The AHA has long been in bed with the Pharmaceutical Industry, and pushes statins on behalf of those greedy corporations. The following is from the AHA's own website:
The American Heart Association Pharmaceutical Roundtable (PRT) is a strategic coalition of 10 leading pharmaceutical companies and association volunteers and staff.  It allows our association and members of the pharmaceutical industry to identify and pursue common objectives to improve cardiovascular health in the United States through research, patient education, and public and professional programs.  Since its inception in 1988, this premier corporate funding group for the National Research Program has committed more than $60 million to cardiovascular and stroke research.  The current members are listed below in the order in which they joined:
  1. Bristol-Myers Squibb Company
  2. Novartis Pharmaceuticals Corporation
  3. AstraZeneca
  4. Merck
  5. GlaxoSmithKline
  6. Takeda Pharmaceuticals
  7. Pfizer, Inc.
  8. sanofi aventis
  9. Merck/Schering-Plough Pharmaceuticals
  10. Eli Lilly and Company 
The last thing on Earth such corporations want is a population of absolutely healthy people who will never buy any of their various medications ever again.

Heck, check out this December 16, 2013, article at HuffingtonPost.com: The American Heart Association — Protecting Industry Not Patients.

So just toe the line, ignore all contrary research, and swallow those statins and related medications, and the AHA and the Pharmaceutical Industry will be perfectly happy.

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Oh, yes, I do get cranky in my old age!

Anyway, I wish to close out now with an entry from my journal taken from exactly 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster. I was renting the small area in a house located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.

On May 5, I had begun working full-time on what may have been a three- or four-month contract with a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society

Prior to getting hired full-time, I had worked for S.A.N.E. over a period of many, many months on a part-time basis that was basically just a day per week ─ I had worked as a swamper on their blue pick-up truck.

But as of yet as a full-time employee, I was not assigned any truck duty ─ and in fact, I had not any assigned duties whatsoever. My wasted days were spent trying to pass the time as best I could, and it was both demoralizing and depressing.

Back then, S.A.N.E. was housed in a building that used to be situated right about where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station spreads out onto Carvarvon Street today.  

Note that I often put entries into my journal over the course of a day, so its context was sometimes off. For instance, I might mention in a sentence something that I was just about to go out and do; and then the next sentence would indicate just how that event had gone.
THURSDAY, May 13, 1976

It was close to 6:45 a.m. when I got up. I'm so stiff, weak, and tired!

I discovered the Olympic Lottery is to be televised Sunday at 6:00 p.m. on Channel 8, so I don't feel too bad about last night's loss.

I wrote dad a short note which I'll mail on my way to S.A.N.E.

I had to come home early for lunch (with some books, 1 for Bill's mom) because a meeting is scheduled during my regular (beginning at 1:00 p.m.) food break. It's so far been spitting rain most of the day.

The meeting turned out to be a boon in that it consumed so much time.

At leaving at day's end Esther suggested I might not receive pay for the first 2 days of last week which I missed; too, there is a chance our cheques may be delayed beyond tomorrow. I hope not.

The sky was cloudless during my walk home where I found a note from the landlady asking I let her know when I arrived; the gas was turned off and couldn't be pilot lit anew till I allowed entry to my suite (she has no key).

I summoned her, and she called the gas man. All is well.

Later I visited Bill. I told him to expect me awaiting him at his car tomorrow when he gets off work.

Bed at 10:20 p.m.
"Last night's loss" was my failure to win a thing on the Western Lottery; but now I had hopes with the coming Olympic Lottery. A big win seemed the only possible way that my life could be turned around and salvaged. 

My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite that may have been little farther than four blocks from my room. His mother Anne Gregory was renting her own suite in Maillardville. I now have no idea what sort of book might have interested her.

Esther St. Jean used to be the main driver of S.A.N.E.'s pick-up truck when I swamped for them. She was a delightful woman in her early 40s. I doubt that I was expecting to get paid for Monday and Tuesday (May 3 and 4) of the previous week, since I only began working again at S.A.N.E. on May 5.

I have no idea why I was going to be waiting at Bill's car the next late afternoon or early evening wherever he would have parked it at his workplace. He was employed at a now defunct cannery called Royal City Foods that used to exist on the edge of the Fraser River, just barely downstream from the Pattullo Bridge.

The walk to get there wouldn't have been as much as a mile.
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