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Monday, June 1, 2015

President Obama's Love Affair with GMO │ Beer for Strong Bones!

Yesterday seemed to be signaling a weather-change ─ so much so, that I wondered if it might possibly rain overnight.

My younger brother Mark was up to his usual last evening ─ around 6:45 p.m., he arrived home from wherever he had been drinking.

He turned on the T.V., and must have passed out in just a few minutes.  The remote was clenched in his hand when I came downstairs around 7:00 p.m., and I don't think he ever managed to switch stations from the one it had been tuned in to.

I wanted to watch the movie Looper at 8:00 p.m. on the Space Channel, so I set about fixing up some supper for myself.

As movie-time approached, I extricated the remote from his grip, and tuned in my channel.

Mark finally began showing life-signs just after 9:00 p.m., and besotted as he was, he had a struggle comprehending the show from that point.

He stuck it out, though; and then watched some of the CBC Evening News before hauling himself up to his bedroom just after 10:30 p.m.

I watered some plants out in the front yard, then turned off the T.V. and came upstairs here to my computer to do a few things.

The final task involved consorting with prurient imagery to full conclusion; and I was in bed by 11:55 p.m.

I had a related dream that I probably should not have made any mention of, since I have no intention of explaining it.  But I will make the mention just for my own record.

All I will say of it is that I was able to achieve a decent release in the imaginary scenario that ─ even to the 'me' in the dream ─ was unusual, since there is none any longer in my reality.   

I suppose I slept reasonably well, having my first break in sleep while my brother Mark was showering ─ this would have been shortly ahead of 5:00 a.m.  I waited until his shower ceased before I flushed the toilet and then took the usual subsequent long drink of cold tap water. 

When I got up for the full day, the sky appeared rather grey.

I had a post to complete and get published at my Lawless Spirit website, so that is what I devoted my time towards doing.  It was quite enjoyable ─ none of the alarming anxiety that claimed me yesterday attended the work.

However, I did publish well ahead of noon, as I recall; whereas yesterday, I was in thrall to the task until into the afternoon, and it was making me feel utterly desperate over the waste of my day.

Anyway, the post is titled Holistic Resource Management Australia II.

I don't think there ever was a sunny break today.  But even so, I sat out on a lawn-chair in the backyard for at least a half-hour, facing the general direction of where I estimated the Sun should be.  At the time, it was sprinkling spits of rain the entire while ─ never enough to keep me wet.

This is to be the weather trend for most of the week, but I believe that I heard a forecast of a very hot weekend at the finish of the week.

Despite the weather, I am in spirits so much better than yesterday, that I honestly do think I am somewhat of a manic/depressive personality.  My outlook yesterday at times saw death as preferable to the life I am living.

I have one last thing I would like to say ─ and it relates to the unexpected drive to Save-On-Foods that my eldest step-son Tho gave me on Saturday afternoon.

His girlfriend Tiffany evidently phoned him during the drive, and I heard him respond thus to her apparent enquiry of what he was doing:  "I'm driving my dad to Save-On-Foods."

I heard him refer to me as his "dad"on another occasion when we encountered one of his friends while Tho and I were running an errand for Tho's mother.

Now, whether he still nominates me with that appellation when I am not present, I of course have no idea.  Maybe he was just being deferential in my presence?

After all, he had just turned 14 when he and his brother Pote came to Canada from Thailand in September 2008 to live with his mother and I ─ and my brother Mark. 

There was an incident a year or two ago when he answered the front door, and a pair of Mormons were there, asking for Mark.  Mark was away at the time.  I guess Tho told them as much, and then they must have perplexedly asked him what his relationship with Mark was.

I heard him respond, "He's my uncle."

That had to really confuse them.

Mark and I were Mormons for several years as boys ─ we were even baptized.  But I stopped attending in the Summer of 1964 at the age of 14, refusing to my mother to get ready and go with her and Mark to church any longer.

I was becoming too concerned about having to make home visits and to pray aloud ─ I was cripplingly backward socially;  and I certainly had no desire to become a missionary. 

After a few weeks, Mark ─ who may have just turned 12 ─ started refusing attendance.

The Mormons track him down periodically and try to reach out ─ even after all of these years.  They've never managed to identify my whereabouts, however.

I detest having GMO products in the marketplace ─ especially when they are not identified as such, and when they are hidden as ingredients in various manufactured products like snacks and baked goods and such.

From what I have been hearing concerning President Obama's alliance with the corporations responsible for GMO foods (and the dreadful pesticides and weed-killers that go along with them), I would refuse him my vote for that alone if I was American.

This editorial from the Health Sciences Institute (HSI) that they sent out about five days ago is deeply discouraging:

Food fight
In 2007 presidential candidate Barack Obama didn't tell his first campaign lie -- but he may have told his biggest.

Obama promised that, as president, he'd require genetically modified foods to be labeled. He even declared that Americans like us "have a right to know what they're buying."

But it's starting to look like the promises Obama made to GMO giants like Monsanto and Dow are the only ones that count.

Because a leaked letter from an Obama cabinet official has just proven that the administration is preparing to move on GMO foods. But their new labeling ploy isn't about protecting you or helping you make healthy food choices for your family.

In fact, the USDA is getting ready to unveil a sham label that would protect billion-dollar GMO special interests and could leave you and your state powerless to ever hold them accountable.

A letter from Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack to USDA employees was recently leaked to the media. And it shows just how committed our government is to keeping you from ever being able to tell the difference between genetically modified and non-GMO foods.

In the letter, Vilsack outlined a plan to develop an official USDA label that would certify certain foods as being non-GMO. The plan allegedly originated from a request by a global company that wanted its corn and soy certified as non-GMO.

Ignoring the millions of Americans who want GMO foods labeled -- and choosing to label non-GMO foods instead -- may seem like a baby step in the right direction.

But the only step the feds are taking is right on the throats of consumers like us.

States have started moving forward with their own GMO labeling laws. And big food lobbies and their shills in Congress are desperate to block them -- including the first such law set to go into effect in Vermont.

There's a bill called HR-1599 in Congress right now that would keep states like Vermont from having their own GMO labeling laws once a federal standard is in place. Included in this so-called "DARK Act" (for Deny Americans the Right to Know) is a passage calling for the Secretary of Agriculture to establish "a non-bioengineered food certification program for agricultural products."

In other words, once federal labels and standards are in place, major GMO corporations and lobbying groups could use them to fight and even strike down laws in states like Vermont. And the USDA's sudden, renewed interest in labeling could be a step in that direction.

Even the USDA admits that its "Process Verified Seal" doesn't involve too much verification, which would make it easy to take advantage of. There is no transparency regarding what the certification practices are and there aren't any third-party standards involved.

Worse still, the label would be on products when they ship -- but not when they're put out for purchase.

The USDA label won't move us one inch toward labeling GMO foods, and it won't help you make more informed choices in the supermarket. And that's exactly what major corporations like Monsanto and Dow want.

The plan is such a gift to the GMO industry -- and is so riddled with holes -- that even the Grocery Manufacturers Association isn't speaking out against it. That's the trade lobby that fought GMO labeling in California and Oregon and is attempting to overturn the Vermont law.

Our government hasn't come to its senses on GMO labeling. In fact, it's been giving the green light to GMO crops whenever asked to. The EPA even recently approved a dangerous herbicide called Enlist Duo that was specially made to be sprayed on two new GMO crops from Dow.

The fight over labeling has always been about politics, not what's best for you. Food manufacturers have no problem labeling products that contain allergens, like corn, peanuts and soy. There's no legitimate reason why they can't tell us which foods contain GMO ingredients.

And every time you eat these Frankenfoods you're not only getting small doses of the cancer-causing herbicide Roundup, but you're also being made into a guinea pig in a giant experiment. Because no one really knows what their long-term health effects will be.

Foods are already being labeled non-GMO through third-party, non-government groups like the Non-GMO Project. The group works with food manufacturers, distributors, growers, and seed suppliers, and its seal is on 27,000 products, representing about 1,500 brands.

And these voluntary certifications look like the best we're going to get for a while. Because the kind of labeling Vilsack is talking about sounds more like a dangerous ploy to preempt the real deal that millions of Americans are asking for.
Any State that wishes to have GMO products properly labeled that are sold within its boundaries should have that right. 

I hope Vermont never wavers.

I also want to offer a delightful editorial by Dr. William Campbell Douglass II that he published about three days ago:

Skip the osteoporosis drugs and try the brewery secret to better bones
Most men need an osteoporosis screening about as much as they need a mammogram.

OK, so I exaggerate a little to make a point here. A man certainly can crack a hip just as well as the ladies -- but it's less common, and full-blown osteoporosis in men is rarer still.

For every man who develops osteoporosis, there are four women waiting in line ahead of him. That's how much less common it is -- and that's what I want you to bear in mind when you read all the stories popping up lately that claim men are too stubborn, ignorant and just plain stupid to get screened.

Those reports are all based on a single study that claims three out of four men wouldn't get screened even if their doctor offered it. And naturally, they all end with a lecture attempting to shame men into getting screened.

But this isn't about protecting men. This is about DRUGGING them.

Women are turning away from osteoporosis drugs in droves. Since sales aren't all they're cracked up to be as a result, Big Pharma is looking for other ways to grow the market.

Screen more men, and maybe you can con some into taking the drug.

Follow the ladies on this one, because there's a reason most women want nothing to do with osteoporosis drugs: They're worse than the disease!

In some cases, the drugs can cause your jaw to die and rot right off your face. They've been linked repeatedly to cancer of the esophagus. And in a terrible irony, these drugs can actually CAUSE sudden and devastating breaks in the very bones they're supposed to protect.

Are those risks you want to face? Me neither.

If you're worried about your bones -- and you should be, even if you're a guy -- don't waste your time with screenings, and don't swallow any of those drugs.

Just swallow some beer instead!

You read that right -- because a cold brew is just about the best source of bone-building dietary silicon around, and also one of the most bioavailable, meaning your body is able to use it efficiently.

Just about all beer contains at least some silicon, but the highest levels by far are in the hoppy IPA beers that are all the rage these days.

Sometimes, it pays to be a little trendy.

With beer for your bones,

William Campbell Douglass II, M.D.
Also look to have lots of vitamin D and vitamin K in your diet!


I have a rather involved entry from my journal of 41 years ago to conclude today's post with.

I was of the notion that I was then renting a cheap housekeeping room in New Westminster just for the month of May back in 1974, but this entry does not suggest any change in accommodation now that June has commenced. 

Prior to May, my friend William Alan Gill and I had been living in an old rented house that had been located just a block or two uphill from City Hall on Sixth Street; but the property was destined for  other purposes, and we had been issued notices to vacate the house.

As a consequence, I rented a small housekeeping room in a large house converted for that purpose, and which may have been addressed as 333 Pine Street.

Despite moving into it, I bought a set of weights that I had to leave at the home of my brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther ─ they were renting a home together out in Whalley.  I was welcome to hike out there anytime I wanted to work-out with the weights.  

I could afford nothing spacious, for I was basically only employed a day per week at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that now calls itself Fraserside Community Services Society.

Friday was my scheduled day of work.  Generally, I served as a truck swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck, which was normally driven by a dear woman in her early 40s named Esther St. Jean.
SATURDAY, June 1, 1974

Yesterday Art did the driving; we had two moving jobs, each of two loads.  We managed to spend time in the bar and the parlor of the Towers; we even collected and cashed our checks.  After work, he pressed me into going to his place, where I got thoroughly drunk.  I never did any shopping.  I blew a fortune on a large pizza at Venus.

I shopped some today; I even bought a mickey of Samovar vodka for the dance.  But I was feeling quite unwell.  

I went to Whalley, but only did my leg raises; I was too drained for weights.  Bill came over filled with exuberance over a girl he'd met the night before; at Cathy's urging, he phoned her for a date, but was rejected.  Phyllis had brought Sherry over to be babysat; Bill turned out to be the sitter, though Wendy was there.

Mark & Cathy took me home where I changed, then we went to the Russell.  I had 6 or 7 beers, then we broke up; they to dance, and I to my dance.

I came back later to tell them that the doors to my 'do' would close at 11:00 p.m.; I encountered Al and his girl, and directed them to Mark.  They only stayed a few minutes; likewise myself, first buying myself a drink and Al and girl Cokes.

Back at the dance I sat with the Smiths and Esther's clan.  Don came and sat, and I gave him some vodka; he in turn invited me to his table for rye; Tom Reid and Dale were with him.  He got drunk fast, and soon went home.  I spoke with Tom & Dale till they too left.  Then Verna dragged me off to her table of Indians.  'Twas enjoyable.  Lesley was smooching with one.  And my lap was sat upon by Myrna and, later, Pat ─ who had lots to say.  Sinton saw me with Pat on my knee as he said his farewells to Verna; he seemed okay.  Art had a tie-in with Lesley's brother, but it broke up.  Esther took me and a number of others home, but first she got a couple kisses out of me.  She gave me two bottles of beer.

I discovered, when I came home earlier with Mark, that I had lost my leather hat.
The S.A.N.E. pick-up truck ─ its sides extended in height with a wooden framework ─ was used to transport donations to or from S.A.N.E., and even to do small moving jobs.

Evidently Art Smith drove the truck on Friday (May 31, 1974) ─ Esther St. Jean must have been otherwise involved.

Art was in his early 40s, and a great drinking companion ─ we had grown close.

The Royal Towers Hotel ─ located at the corner of Sixth Street & Royal Avenue ─ was one of the beer parlours in town that was fast becoming more of a bar or pub.     

A large pizza all to myself was quite an extravagance ─ I only would have done it because of being drunk and ravenous.  But Venus Pizza made a fabulous pizza back then!

This is the first time I made any mention in my journal of this dance ─ it sounds like it was affiliated with S.A.N.E.  I can't say I remember anything about it now, though ─ not even its location.  I wonder if it was at the Elks Club?

But let's first clear up my visit to Whalley. 

I could have done those leg-raises in my room ─ that was a fair walk for nothing. 

Poor Bill!   Jeanette (or "Cathy" as I referred to her in my journal) maybe should not have urged him to phone that girl he had met.  I don't recall the incident, but Bill was a big boy ─ at that time, he was probably at least 260 pounds (118 kilograms), and only about five feet nine or ten inches (175-178 centimeters) in height.

Bill ended up babysitting my older maternal half-sister Phyllis's daughter, Sherry; and no doubt, Jeanette's two little girls.  Wendy Halverson was my maternal cousin, probably only 14 or so in age.  She had taken to hanging out at Mark & Jeanette's home.

The Russell Hotel in New Westminster might have been the most popular drinking spot in town and North Surrey.  I suppose that Mark and Jeanette may have indicated the possibility of showing up at the dance, so after I went to it and learned that the place would be closing its doors to the public at 11:00 p.m., I hustled back to the hotel to let them know.

It was undoubtedly Mark's friend Al Cotts & his date that I encountered when I returned to the Russell.

Art Smith and his wife Angelina were at the dance I had gone to ─ and maybe even Art's younger brother, Gerald (Judd).

I don't now know who exactly comprised "Esther's clan," but Esther was married, and had two daughters who each had boyfriends.

I now have no idea who "Don," Tom Reid (or Reed?), or "Dale" were.

Many of the part-time employees at S.A.N.E. were Native Canadians ─ as was Verna Williams (I think that was her last name) who seemed to be manager of S.A.N.E. then.

If "Lesley" was Lesley Roy, then she was a 'little person' who was a part-time S.A.N.E. employee.

I remember "Myrna," but not any "Pat" and certainly not a "Sinton" ─ he must have been her boyfriend or something.

I must have lost the leather hat the previous day when I got drunk at Art Smith's home ─ maybe I left it at Venus Pizza or some darned thing.  If it's the hat I can remember, it was grey, and a fairly floppy, wide-brimmed affair.

A week or a little more earlier in my journal, I had written of receiving a book by mail-order at my mother's home ─ her address was my mailing address.

She lived in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey ─ the house is now gone, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

The book was Robert E. Howard's Skull-Face Omnibus

I still have it ─ here are a few scans.  Most are the front and back dust-jacket, and the front and back inside flaps of that dust jacket.  I also scanned the spine of the dust jacket, and the actual book.  And the final scan was the shipping label on the package the book had arrived in sometime between May 21-24, 1974:

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