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Thursday, June 16, 2016

The Ongoing Pharmaceutical Antidepressants Lie │ International Drug Companies and Their Rampant Deceit │ Surgical Stomach Draining: Revolting New Weight-Loss Scheme

Last night I virtually hustled myself to bed ─ neither of my step-sons were home, so I wanted to get the front door locked and all of the lights off before one of them had returned.

It was well ahead of 11:00 p.m. when I was in bed.

I had a reasonably decent night's sleep, although I did rise twice to use the bathroom.

And I had a sort of flashback dream in the sense that it was the sort of dream I would experience  in my younger years.

I was embarking on some sort of journey that makes little sense now, but I will try and present a facsimile of how the dream may have progressed.

It is possible that I had just taken a flight to somewhere, and was next transferring onto a shuttle of some sort.

And for some reason, the Netherlands crops up in my mind.

I didn't seem to be traveling alone ─ there was a woman with me, but it didn't seem to be entirely my wife Jack.  Sometimes I had the sense that it was my younger brother Mark's girlfriend of the mid-1970s, Catherine Jeanette Gunther.

A few seats in back of us were two attractive brunettes who were clearly partying, and they badly wanted me to sit with them.  It was also clear that they were entertaining getting serious with me.

I of course kept my distance, but the draw for me was rather strong.

Then perhaps when I was beginning to come out of the dream, I had the wherewithal to resume it as a fast-forward of sorts.

I was again on a shuttle of some sort, but the companion I was with may not have been with me any longer, and the two girls I had disappointed before were again some seats behind me and now with renewed interest in me.

I was encouraging myself to join them, but unfortunately I had drifted too far out of the dream and into consciousness.

I'm 66 years old.  Yet in the dream, I seemed a younger incarnation of myself.  And the partying gals were into their 30s at very most ─ maybe even still in their 20s.

But perhaps that is who I really am ─ the man a few decades younger, but who is inhabiting my present 66-year-old body.

Inside, I feel little different than I did a couple of decades or more ago.  Unfortunately, my body has undergone too many of the ravages of time, and I conduct myself accordingly.  I accept my physical limits ─ I do not like them, and may even detest some of them.

But I accept that they exist.

However, the inner 'me' is not this 66-year-old man.

And it is a sheer shame that I am where I am today.

Enough of that.

I rose for the day very shortly after 7:00 a.m. with the fixation in mind of making a beer replenishment hike later in the morning to the government liquor store about two miles away at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard here in Whalley.

I began work on the amendment of an old post at my website My Retirement Dream.

Then when I felt that I had gotten the foundation of that amendment gathered together and saved ─ the full edit will take me at least two more days ─ I commenced readying for my journey.

Neither of my step-sons seemed to yet be up from bed.

It was 10:14 a.m. when I was outside the front door and set to begin, but I was considerably surprised to see that my eldest step-son Tho's car was not here.

Did he already take off for somewhere without me being aware, or had he not even come home last night?

Or was his younger brother Pote off with the car?

Those were questions unanswerable at that point in my day.

So I set off.

Not five minutes from home, a flying insect landed in my left eye.

I could see it from that eye initially as it wriggled and fluttered its wings, but the stupid damned thing only seemed to be working itself more firmly into the wet of my eyeball.

I tried to intervene by plucking at it, and employing the old trick of drawing out the upper eyelid over the lower, but I could not work the foreign material to the corner of my eye ─ or at least, not that I could ever feel with my finger, anyway.

So I had no choice but to continue on with my journey, occasionally rubbing at my irritated eye in the hope that I might manage to pulverize the unwanted corpse that had to be somewhere on my eyeball.

There is still a vague irritation.

I never did manage to see any trace of an insect on my finger occasionally dabbing at the corners of my eye throughout that walk; and I was unable to see anything once I was back home and with access to a mirror.

But my vision is getting very bad for this sort of acute discernment.

I shall just have to forbear and allow sufficient time for my eye to normalize again.

Anyway, I bought the two dozen cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer that I had sought, plus a mickey of white rum.

It was 11:44 a.m. when I was back at the front door, my journey done.

Tho's car was still gone.

I could smell something cooking after I entered the house, and while I have been here upstairs, I have heard my youngest step-son Pote and his girlfriend Priyanka talking.  He must have come home last night with her, and does not have to work today.

So Tho is away in his own car.  But when did he leave this morning? ─ or did he not come home last night as I already speculated?

If he did leave earlier this morning...is it possible that he has found a job and is again working???

Lord, that would be so wonderful! ─ having the lout out of the house during the day as once was!
Well, I have now had a light breakfast/lunch, and am ready for a bit of a lie-down.

The day has been a mix of mostly cloud with some Sun; it has even been spitting rain at times.


Here is a photo I would now like to post ─ the very brief description beneath it is from the Google album where I have the scanned image filed:

My mother's husband, Alex Dorosh.

She wrote on the reverse:

"Alex Mt Robson 1993"

Why is it that we are not hearing more about the imminence of the failure of antibiotics to protect us any longer?

The Antibiotic Apocalypse.
  • Mcr-1 is a gene mutation that makes bacteria resistant to our last resort class of antibiotics. The rate of transfer of resistance between bacteria is exceptionally high, making it a formidable threat to human health
  • Less than a year after the mcr-1 gene was discovered in pigs and people in China, it has now been identified in a pork sample and a patient being treated for E.coli in the U.S.
  • According to the most thorough review of the drug resistance problem to date, drastic measures are needed, including improved sanitation and the elimination of unnecessary antibiotics in farming and human medicine

We'll know the truth all-too-soon....


I have courted the finality of suicide since I was a troubled teen; and as I have said before in this blog, I still don't quite understand how I have gotten to be my present age.

Even so, I do doubt that I am going to make it to the age of 70.

When I was younger, I think running and other exercise ─ as well as lots of Summer sunshine ─ may have helped me to endure, staving off bouts of depression with the endorphin 'high' that things like running bring on.

When a child or teen you love is suffering from depression, it can be a helpless feeling.

So when the mainstream comes along promising that an antidepressant can fix the problem, it's no wonder so many well-meaning parents and grandparents go for it.

But now a major new study out of Oxford University has found that these antidepressants are worse than useless for kids.

That means millions of young people are being put in harm's way right now for absolutely no benefit.

Even worse, they're being told these hazardous, ineffective meds are the only option they have.

This new Oxford study should be required reading for any mainstream doc even thinking about prescribing an antidepressant for kids.

Because it proved beyond a shadow of a doubt how worthless and dangerous meds are.

Researchers analyzed 34 different clinical trials that looked at antidepressant use in kids. And they found that 13 out of 14 drugs didn't perform any better than a placebo.

That's right -- they didn't work any better than doing nothing at all.

With all the kids on antidepressants now (more on that in a minute), that's practically criminal. And, actually, the antidepressants may have performed even worse than we've been told.

You see, the Oxford researchers said that they couldn't really rely on "the truthfulness" of the studies they analyzed.

That's because more than 65 percent of the studies were funded by drugmakers, and 90 percent were considered by the researchers to be "biased" in favor of the drugs.

You read that right. Big Pharma was trying to rig the research in favor of its drugs -- and they still didn't work!

And while children (and plenty of adults, for that matter) aren't getting any benefit out of taking antidepressants, they are being exposed to a laundry list of dangers.

That's because these SSRI antidepressant meds like Paxil and Prozac all carry a black-box warning about suicidal thoughts and actions.

And believe it or not, in the eight years after the FDA slapped antidepressants with that black-box suicide risk, the proportion of kids prescribed antidepressants nearly doubled.

That's the sheer madness of a system that will blindly accept a pharma solution to every problem, no matter what the consequences might be.

If you're a parent or grandparent who's concerned about depression in a child of any age, you need to know that the four strategies below have been found to be very successful.
  1. Try non-drug solutions first. As the lead author of the new study points out, psychotherapy in the form of interpersonal therapy or cognitive behavioral therapy is the recommended first-line treatment for major depressive disorder. 
  2. Get tested. Anyone -- child or adult -- who suffers from depression needs a blood test to detect nutritional deficiencies, thyroid disorders, and other health issues that can trigger depression. 
  3. Get moving. Exercise is a must, and exercise in the form of team sports is even more likely to erase depression. 
  4. Start supplementing. A wide variety of supplemental nutrients have been shown to help people of all ages cope with depression. Vitamin D tops the list, along with omega-3 fatty acids, vitamin C, St. John's wort, and 5-HTP.
None of these strategies are magic bullets. But we now know that they're far more effective and certainly safer than the dangerous drugs Big Pharma sells us.
Here is one other report on that Oxford study:


There's no bloody way that I will ever take any of the infernal medications pharmaceutical corporations keep spewing at us.

Often, we don't even know exactly what's in the stuff.

The following report reveals just how bad things are:

They're lying, cheating and destroying the evidence.

And it could cost you your life.

Overseas drug companies -- manufacturers that make medications millions of Americans take every day -- have been caught red-handed faking test data and using ingredients we don't even know about.

It's all so they can get their products approved and into your medicine cabinet -- whether they're safe or not.

Even the FDA knows that the problem is spiraling out of control. And it's never been more important for you to take one critical -- and potentially life-saving -- step before you fill your next prescription.

The most recent FDA warning letter was zipped out to an Indian drug facility just a few weeks ago.

But the agency might as well make a form and print off a few hundred copies, because it isn't the first -- and the way things are going it will be far from the last.

This warning went off to a company headquartered in Mumbai called Megafine Pharma Limited for what a trade pub called the same kind of drug testing "shenanigans" that got it in hot water last year.

And a recent investigation by the CBC news in Canada found that Megafine is far from alone in this epidemic of drug-data fraud.

The Canadians reported that several dozen overseas companies have been "caught in the act" of making up facts and figures used by regulators in approving meds.

I'm talking about things like pages of important information found buried "under rubble," erased computer records and faked blood tests. During one FDA inspection of an Indian company, when an employee saw the inspectors coming, he grabbed a thumb drive and ran off with it!

And I'm pretty sure he wasn't just late for a lunch date.

Two months ago the World Health Organization found that an Indian research firm that does testing for a group of international drug companies was deliberately manipulating drug samples. Something the WHO called a "common practice," that indicates fraud.

Around the same time the FDA investigated the same company and found evidence that it was "deliberately switching" blood samples around to have it appear that generic meds had the same effect as the original ones.

On top of fudging safety testing, the manufacture of drugs and their active ingredients has turned into a global patchwork quilt that's almost impossible to track.

One pharma expert put it this way. "We know where our shirts are made, we know where our shoes are made," but where our drugs and the ingredients come from is mostly a mystery.

The worst part is that the FDA knows this is a problem -- but they're not lifting a finger to stop these meds from coming into the country.

It's quite obvious that our government has no idea of how to fix this global mess, or even how to begin.

Fortunately for all of us, the Europeans are a bit ahead of the game. Last year I told you about an investigation out of the European Union that found hundreds of generic drugs were approved based on fraudulent data.

At the time the European Medicines Agency was recommending banning 700 different generics, many that are sold here in the U.S.

You can check out the full list here. And if you find a drug you're taking, talk to your doc about making a switch -- or, better yet, whether you really need to be on the drug in the first place.
Please don't think that this is all about generic drugs, for even our mainstream drugs get contracted for production overseas.

In fact, note this statement at Megafine Pharma Limited's website:
Megafine, a reliable partner for Research & Resource, with it’s decades of experience in the Pharmaceutical Industry, not only manufactures it’s own Active Pharmaceutical Ingredients (APIs) and Advanced Intermediates but also Contract manufactures for Innovators and several Global Pharma companies.
Here's the FDA warning that no doubt has Megafine shaking to its core...or, maybe not at all perturbed in the least:


There really is no helping some people!

I just now have read this following report and learned of this new device for the very first time ─ and I am thoroughly disgusted:

Just when I thought I'd seen every wacky, dangerous thing the FDA could throw at us, I was proven wrong.

Because this week the agency officially OK'd bulimia as a way to lose weight.

Not. Kidding.

Or, as late-night host Stephen Colbert called it, "abdominal vomiting."

It's a device that allows you to basically throw up from your stomach through a system of tubes, ports and valves. And do so on demand.

The AspireAssist, as it's been named, is being called a simple and quick way to drop those pounds -- with no foods being "off limits."

But in reality, it's an insane and risky way to lose weight, one that should have been stopped at the get-go.

Before the AspireAssist device came along, the only time you would want to have your stomach pumped was if you swallowed something poisonous.

Now, you can do it yourself morning, noon and night. Eat anything you want and then pump all those calories away.

You could call it an FDA-approved eating disorder.

It works by having a tube inserted in your stomach during a short surgical procedure. A valve sits on the outside of your body and is connected to it. Then, 20 minutes after every meal, you attach the "external connector" to your port valve and "drain the contents."

Put in simpler terms, you're pumping a large amount of your stomach contents out and down the toilet. Or, as the manufacturer prefers to say, in the "privacy of the restroom."

You need to wait that 20 minutes so that your brain will believe you're full, and then get that food out before it's digested.

AspireAssist has been called "disgusting," a "terrifying invention" a "bulimia machine," and very aptly, more of an "enabling device" than something that will help you control your appetite.

And that's exactly what it is. Come on, you and I both know that once someone has gotten over the horror of seeing what they just ate being pumped out of their stomach, they're not going to want to go back to counting every morsel of food.

As Albert Einstein College of Medicine nutritionist Keith Ayoob said, sooner or later someone was going to come up with something that will let them "just eat and make the calories go away."

Plus that, people aren't going to want this magic calorie wand to disappear, so "they're never going to want it taken out," he added

And that seems to be the case with some of the early users of the device.

Eric Wilcoxon, who had the AspireAssist implanted in his belly during one of the early clinical trials three years ago, said he plans to keep on pumping out his stomach three times a day "indefinitely."

But aside from all the things you can say about this device, from the ick factor to the absurdity, it's also an incredibly dangerous way to lose weight.

Experts warn about dehydration, stomach-lining irritation, and acute electrolyte imbalances, as well as infections, leaks, anemia, hypoglycemia and even depression and suicide.

And even the FDA says it can cause constipation, diarrhea and vomiting.

There's also the little issue of getting pieces of food that haven't been chewed enough stuck in the tubing. Sort of like when you don't clean off the dishes before you put them in the sink.

Look, any way you pick this thing apart it's a horror show.

But then again, maybe there is a way the AspireAssist can help us drop some pounds.

Because just thinking about it is enough to make anyone lose their appetite!
No weakling who can't shove him- or herself away from the carbohydrates is going to notice those listed potential complications ─ this sickening device is going to go over big.


Here now is an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

My room was a rental in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.
MONDAY, June 16, 1975

I dreamed last night of gaining employment in the Newton library.

I didn't get up till about 6:45 a.m., so I suppose I must have slept well, having retired before 8:30 p.m.

The day is clouded, and rain threatens.

I vacillated, but finally visited the library here in town; I borrowed Food in Antiquity and Basic Physiology, coming home in a developing mist of rain.

My $50 S.A.N.E. cheque was here, and a request I see Mr. Jeffs June 19.

My next visit shall be to the bank.

I had no problem there due to my girl.

I stopped in Army & Navy, and came away with a suitable long tan jacket for $3.66.  Then to Safeway for apples, rutabagas, and a stewing chicken raised to 43¢ lb. from 39¢.

It had been pouring at the outset of my errand, but had nigh stopped at the end.  

I broke my diet with a snack.  Then I set off in a short-lived rain for a slow trip round Burnaby Lake; my stride only lengthened when I hit the Cariboo Road hill.

What a drag.  I arrived home 5:50 p.m.

I preserved the integrity of my diet by only eating a fried egg for supper.

Bedtime at 9:30 p.m.
I joined the Newton library the day it opened around 1964 or so.  It had been a small fire-hall, I believe; and later when the library moved, the former library became a chiropractor's office. 

It's been quite some time since I was last in Newton, but I think that little old library eventually became what is now the Old Surrey Restaurant.  Or at least, that's approximately where I remember the library to have been.

I guess after having gotten so much enjoyment from it over my teen years, dreaming of becoming employed there is not that odd.

I read very widely, as my borrowings from the New Westminster library should indicate.

I worked just one day a week ─ at a charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that today calls itself Fraserside Community Services Society.

I think that through an employment incentive programme in place between them and New Westminster social services, the latter actually paid my stipend.  The $50 cheque was just part of what I got each month, but I am unsure if I was receiving as much as $160 in total.

Russ Jeffs was my social worker ─ a wonderfully genial elderly Englishman who would always refer to me as "Old boy!"

My cheques were based upon an account at the Royal Bank, so I always cashed mine at the branch on Columbia Street there in New Westminster ─ I have no idea now if the same branch exists at the same spot.

I never had any photo identification, nor did I have a bank account ─ for that reason, I did not dare attempt to cash my cheques at some other institution.  But even at the Royal Bank, I could meet with some difficulty from tellers doubtful about my identity.

Most fortunately, one teller was a dear gal named Mary who may have been little older than I was.  She didn't know me, but for some reason she always rushed to my aid to serve me ─ and even to my defence if some other teller happened to get to me first.

I remember a few times that when a teller was prevaricating about cashing my cheque, Mary would make her way to him or her and declare that it was okay ─ that she knew me, and that I was who the cheque was made out to.

She just seemed to like and trust me ─ as I said, she never knew me outside of our interactions in the bank, and I never had any identification that should have made her surer about me than anyone else working in the bank should have been.

I really liked her ─ and she was buxom and attractive, too.  She was far out of my league, I always thought ─ my cop-out for not trying to associate with her.

I wish that I could know whatever became of the dear thing.

Army & Navy department store still exists in New Westminster, and they still have great deals...but I cannot say that I remember that jacket.

After I was back at my room, I was soon to undertake that Burnaby Lake hike ─ someone would need to be from these parts to fully fathom what was involved.

If this Google map comes up for you, I can try to explain.

From where I lived on Ninth Street at Third Avenue, I would work my way toward Robert Burnaby Park over by the Trans-Canada Highway.

I would cut through the park, and then somehow get over the freeway (Trans-Canada Highway).  It's quite possible that I used a small creek's culvert and traveled beneath the freeway if it was the daytime.  

I probably only risked dashing across the freeway at night when I would be less obvious ─ silly as that might sound.  I didn't like being in the public eye, so cutting across the freeway in the daylight would have brought me far too much unwanted attention.

Once I was on the opposite side of the freeway, I would then take a trail that is there and ─ turning left ─ hike over to what may have been Sperling Avenue.

I would then turn up that avenue and work my way towards some railway tracks on the far side of the lake.  You should be able to just discern them in this Google map.

I would then turn to my right and work my way to the far right of the lake where you can see Gaglardi Way, and Cariboo Road leading off from it towards the bottom of the map.

I would follow Cariboo Road to Tenth Avenue, and work my way back to where I lived in New Westminster.

The whole trip could easily take three hours.  

But I had made the trip so often, it was becoming a tedious bore for me.  Thus my comment, "What a drag."  Even back then, nothing but traffic, traffic, traffic.

And can you believe that after all of that exertion, I only fried up one egg for my supper?

This has much to do with why that previous report about draining one's stomach after every meal to lose weight is so offensive to me.  

People just don't try anymore.  They want what they think will be the easy way, with the least possible privation.
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