.dropcap {float:left; color:#4791d2; font-size:75px; line-height:60px; padding-top:4px; padding-right:8px; padding-left:3px; font-family:Georgia}

Google+ Followers

Endless

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Petition: Don't Let Trump Deregulate GMOs! │ Drugged Driving Surpassing Drunk Driving

I watched my evening of T.V. last night by myself. My younger brother Mark did not arrive home from the bar until just after 10:30 p.m., by which time I had turned off the T.V. and was here upstairs dealing with E-mail just prior to getting to bed.

I heard him conversing downstairs with my eldest stepson Tho, who was in the kitchen at the time. Apparently Tho had been nursing the same notions as had I ─ viz., that Mark had been nabbed and was somewhere in custody.

But he claimed to just been having too good a time enjoying the drinks and "the pretty girls" wherever it was that he came from.

I believe that it was 10:42 p.m. once I was in bed.

I didn't have a great night's sleep, but it was fairly reasonable. It was 6:25 a.m. when I checked the time this morning and decided to rise so that I could get to work at putting more content into the post I have going at my Lawless Spirit website.

Both Mark and Tho had left for work by then, and only youngest stepson Poté was still home and in bed. However, he, too, anon would rise, and perhaps before quite 7:50 a.m. had gone out to his car to drive off to work.

We have had quite a wet day of it. I suppose some of the rain must have commenced before daybreak.

Before I got to work on that post I spoke of, I became enmeshed in responding to an E-mail. It took too darned long. I never got started working on the post until well beyond 9:00 a.m. And by then, my eyes were already bothering me, and a vague headache had worsened.

Nevertheless, I stuck with the work.

And once I had accomplished that minimum of work which I had hoped to be able to meet today, l decided that a nap was in order to try and banish ─ or at least reduce ─ the annoying mild headache. It may have been 11:54 a.m. when I returned to bed.

I did nap, but was in bed for under an hour. I still had the mild headache, though.

I suppose that it was around 1:00 p.m. or soon after that I motivated myself to get into a pair of gym-style shorts and head on out to the backyard tool shed for some exercise there. Fortunately, the headache did not hamper me, but it did impress itself upon me anytime I was bent over and straining, thereby increasing blood pressure in my brain.

I weighed myself once I was back into the house ─ entirely naked and without having eaten anything yet today, I was no less than 185 pounds (83.9146 kilogrammes) at a height of about five feet 10.75 inches (179.705 centimetres).

Perhaps just before 2:00 p.m. while I was seated upstairs here at my computer after having just finished eating, my wife Jack called out as she walked through the front door, paying an unexpected visit home from Vancouver.

She said that she had just come from a medical appointment, which she most likely had to keep somewhere fairly nearby here in Surrey. She quickly got busy preparing us all a couple of dishes for our supper, for she was not home to stay. And in fact, she had likely left by about 3:40 p.m. to return to Vancouver, declaring that she would most likely be back for Monday ─ her oldest son Tho has a lawyer appointment here in Surrey that she will be driving him to.

Tho is serving a year-long driving suspension; in addition, he also sold his car awhile back, since it was only sitting idle.

The lawyer appointment is unrelated and relates to a hit-and-run that he suffered back in the very earliest hours of April 13, 2016. He was to lose a few weeks of work because he was just too sore to handle the physical rigours.

Anyway, not long after Jack left me to return to Vancouver, Poté showed up from work. And now Tho is home, too. It is 5:00 p.m.

Sometimes I will scan the covers of hardcover books that I bought back in the 1970s. I would mail-order them, and have them sent to my mother Irene Dorosh's home, for my own address was never all that stable.

At the time, she and her husband Alex lived in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey; and although that house now no longer exists, its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

I am just explaining that because I also want to post scans of the shipping label for the book, and it bears that old address that no house bears anymore.

I do not know exactly when this book arrived, but I collected it on January 19, 1976 ─ it may have shown up as early as the day just before, but I cannot say now.

So without further ado, here is the dust jacket for the book ─ The Banner of Joan by H. Warner Munn:


This is the inside flap of the front dust jacket ─ and the inside flap of the back dust jacket immediately follows:



Here are two address labels from the shipping wrapper:



And finally, a bonus for placing my order for one of the 975 published copies of the book ─ an autograph from the authour himself:


Memories!

And now I want to pass along something that should concern consumers ─ and especially Americans ─ who are getting frustrated by presidents who seem intent of promoting or protecting the interests of GMO food producers at the expense of non-GMO farmers and those consumers who only want to have non-GMO foods in their diets. And please note that the petition can be signed by non-Americans ─ I signed:

Real (Bad) News
In 2016, candidate Trump insulted Iowa voters when he tweeted: “Too much #Monsanto in the #corn creates issues in the brain?”

Don’t be confused by Trump’s tweets. And don’t be fooled by the fake news that Melania Trump has banned Monsanto from the White House.

These distractions hide the real news: The Trump Administration has just announced a new GMO deregulation scheme, and it’s the most audacious effort to force dangerous, experimental “foods” onto the market since genetically modified organisms (GMOs) were first introduced in the 1990s.

Under Trump’s new GMO deregulation plan, there would still be no safety testing or meaningful labeling of GMOs. There would still be nothing to protect organic and non-GMO crops from contamination—which isn’t all that different than what we got from Obama and every president going back to George H.W. Bush.

What makes Trump’s new scheme (a giant gift to Monsanto and Dow Chemical) unique is that it takes deregulation to a whole new level.

If Trump’s proposed regulations are finalized, they won’t just change the way GMOs are treated by the government. They will cripple our capacity to launch marketplace campaigns to keep new GMOs out of the food supply—because we’ll know even less about new GMOs in the pipeline, and where they’re being tested.


Live in Maryland? Attend the June 16 hearing, or watch the webinar (Email alexis@organicconsumers.org if you plan to attend). And watch for our June 16 live broadcast from the hearing on OCA’s facebook page.
I hope that I managed to get all of those links set up correctly.

I believe that it was just yesterday that I included some material trumpeting how drugged driving has now outstripped drunk driving for vehicular deaths in the U.S. As I observed at the time, I would not be the least surprised if the situation was the same in Canada or other nations where medications are freely prescribed.

Here are a few more reports on this dreadful state of affairs, although the first two reports have Tiger Woods as their primary focus:

WashingtonPost.com

HSIonline.com

Mercola.com

Well, it is very possible that my younger brother Mark will come home exceptionally early this evening, so I think it prudent to start bringing this post to a close.

I shall do so with the following journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting in a house located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.

For employment, I was several weeks into 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.

I was working as a swamper on their blue pick-up truck.

The building that housed S.A.N.E. in those years does not exist anymore, but it was located around where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station today opens up onto Carnarvon Street.
TUESDAY, June 15, 1976

It was at least 6:35 a.m. when I arose, to the rain outside.

At S.A.N.E. I learned the truck had broken down. But even so, it looks to be pouring all day. I worked in the shop.

I received my $150 advance cheque, and cashed it at my 1:00 p.m. luncheon break. I bought 3 money orders: $10 for an Olympic Lottery ticket for Mark, and $13 for one for me, as well as a Western; and $31.17 for some books from the F.&S.F. Book Co. (2 copies of The Night Land, one being for Terri, and 5 paperbacks). I'll mail all 3 money orders on my way back to work. I'll also be mailing in a $15 tithe.

The afternoon really dragged. Took paid me back the $5 he owed me, to my relief.

I saw Allan Varga while spending $3.21 at Safeway, but he never saw me.

About 8:00 p.m. I left in a very fine rain for Bill's place, but found him away.

Seems I'll be retiring quite early tonight: 9:45 p.m. 
The Olympic Lottery ticket would be a July birthday gift for my younger brother Mark. I was mail-ordering one for myself, too, along with an order for a Western Lottery ticket. Lottery tickets had to be mail-ordered back then because stores did not commonly sell lottery tickets like they do today, and there were no such things as lottery booths in shopping centres or malls. 

I was also buying a hardcover book for a U.S. pen-pal I had back then, Terri Martin. I wish that I could find out whatever became of her.

And yes, I tithed ─ I had for years ─ to the Worldwide Church of God, even though I never in my life attended a church service of theirs.

"Took" was an Indigenous Canadian working at S.A.N.E. I estimate that he had to have at least been into his 30s.

Al Varga was a friend of my maternal relatives the Havlersons, who were living out in Surrey. He and his wife Marie had an apartment in New Westminster. I wouldn't have wanted to be noticed by him because he was always keen on involving me in some outing he and his wife were planning, and his income outstripped mine ─ i.e., I could not match his leisure expenditure. 

Yet I was a weakling where saying "No!" to anyone was concerned. My style was just to avoid people.

I probably wanted to watch some colour T.V. at my old friend William Alan Gill's bachelor suite that evening ─ he was living perhaps little more than four blocks from my room. Finding him absent, I likely felt inclined for nothing more than getting to bed early.

I had a very simple lifestyle.
Post a Comment