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Sunday, October 2, 2016

Vinegar Assists Blood Sugar Control │ Avoid Cancer by Taking Vitamin D │ Yosprala ─ Even Worse than Plain Aspirin

As he usually does, my brother Mark stayed away last evening and slept at his girlfriend Bev's home.  And so I had the evening in the living room to myself as I caught up on three T.V. series' episodes that I never viewed during the week ─ whilst enjoying some drinks, of course.

I got involved in my first experience of chat via Google Hangouts ─ I had not intended to get involved, and had deliberately waited until late in the evening before accepting contact from someone who had sent me an invitation early in the afternoon.

For whatever reason, 'Cindy' just happened to be lying in wait.

I don't know if she is genuine, or just some scammer feigning to be a young woman.  She's got a Western last name, but claimed to be a Ghanaian studying at a university in Wisconsin.

When I pointed out that she had an unusual last name for a Ghanaian, she then said that her father was American.

She didn't seem to have any peculiarities in her typed speech that would suggest being foreign ─ her vernacular was 'spot on' and well-presented ( i.e., not at lot of texting-style shortcuts).

Anyway, we may have been in communication 10 minutes, or possibly longer.  But I rather abruptly announced that I didn't want a late night and was going to knock off and get to bed.

And so I did, after an exchange of 'good nights.'

There was no suggestion that she was leading towards anything shady, such as mentioning some health or cash crisis.

Anyway, I think I tweaked my Google Hangouts status so that it will not reveal when I am online ─ I have no interest in getting embroiled in chat anytime someone's bored or up to mischief.  I haven't the time.

I was in bed by 11:44 p.m. ─ not too bad at all.

The first time I was conscious enough overnight to wonder on the time, it was 5:44 a.m.  So I took a bathroom break.

Sleep was of course very fragmentary thereafter, and I finally checked the time at 7:30 a.m. and opted to rise.

My youngest step-son Pote was already up ─ he must have used his older brother Tho's car to spirit away his overnighted girlfriend earlier.

I got to work on the start of a new post at my Lawless Spirit website.

However, my intention was to get out and do some shopping at Save-On-Foods at least 1¼ miles from here over in Whalley.  First, though, I needed to climb back into bed ─ my work on the post had taxed my eyes, and I was feeling somewhat beaten down as a consequence.

I have decided that at some point I am going to have my eyes checked out by a knowledgeable specialist just to ease my concerns about whether I might have some eye disease.

My vision in my right eye has been poor ever since a Hallowe'en accident back around 1960 that resulted in my entire face being scorched and blackened with what was essentially gunpowder.

My face had been turned somewhat to the right at the time of the accident, and thus my right eye was burned worse than my left.  I think that one early eye-test several years later gave me a score of something like 20/40 in my right eye.

Or maybe the latter figure was even higher.

By the late 1990s, I was told that I was legally blind in my right eye.

I have never been prescribed glasses ─ I could read well enough when I was a young man.  It was only once I was into my latter 40s that it had become difficult to read print.

And things just worsened ─ I gave up book-reading.

Anyway, back to my morning!

Once I felt I had recovered enough ─ it was probably after an hour or so in bed ─ I got up and started readying for the hike.

I never took note of the time when I left, but it was still in the late forenoon, I believe.

I did my shopping; and because I had a cheque to deposit from my younger brother Mark ─ it was a monthly expenses reconciliation ─ I returned in such fashion that I was able to use the ATM at the new Coast Capital Savings building over by the King George SkyTrain Station.

Mark ─ who had gotten home shortly after 10:00 a.m. ─ was gone by the time I returned.

The morning had been largely overcast with expanses of light cloud, but by midday it had essentially become sunny.

Tho was home; his younger brother Pote must have had to go to work at some point this morning.

I opted to take advantage of the lovely day and sit out in the backyard in a pair of cut-offs, seated in a chair and facing towards the Sun.  I commenced a session of just over 40 minutes at 2:10 p.m.

And this about catches me up on my day ─ it is 3:45 p.m. as I type this statement.


I have a photo to present ─ the decription just beneath it is from the Google album where I have the image stored:

That is Tumma at the left, Tukta in the red hat, and someone I never in person laid eyes upon.

The location is a beach on Koh Samet, and it is late in January or very early in February 2003.

The two ladies and I ─ along with Tukta's sister, and the sister's young boy Earth; and Jack, the woman who would become my wife in 2005 ─ had gone to the island towards the very end of my very first visit to Thailand.

Apparently this chap was strolling along the beach with a couple others, and the gals enlisted him into posing for this photo.

I was not present ─ the gals just happened to have my camera.
That was actually the last of a sequence of three photos ─ these are the other two, leading off with the group of three tourists coming down the beach at some distance beyond the girls:


Do you or anyone you love have issues with blood sugar elevations?

If so, have a look at this short report:

The PEOPLE'S ᴘʜᴀʀᴍᴀᴄʏ

That's interesting that the BBC television show did not find malt vinegar to be anywhere near as effective as apple cider vinegar.

Yet the two studies that are mentioned in the article did not even specify any one kind of vinegar ─ or at least, the study's titles and abstracts never gave any such indication.  They just said 'vinegar.'

NewMarketHealth.com had this to add:
Vinegar and blood-sugar studies go back several decades to an experiment done by Japanese researchers with a handful of volunteers. And scientists have been looking at how it can lower blood glucose ever since.

For example:
  • Arizona State nutritionist Carol Johnston has been studying vinegar for over a decade, and believes that the "anti-glycemic effect" of apple cider vinegar is "very well documented." It may even work as well as some diabetes drugs. Vinegar appears to prevent digestion of starch -- not 100 percent, Johnston says, but enough to keep your blood sugar from soaring after eating carbs. Those undigested carbs then go to work feeding your good gut bacteria.
  • A study from Greek researchers two years ago found vinegar to have a "glucose-lowering effect" in people with type 2 diabetes. These scientists discovered that vinegar causes your muscles to "increase glucose uptake," which may explain how it works at keeping blood-sugar levels down.
  • And just last month, researchers in Singapore found that taking vinegar before eating will lower post-meal blood-sugar readings.
As I said, research in how vinegar can keep blood sugar in check has been going on for quite a while, but it seems that lately, probably because the rate of type 2 diabetes is going off the charts, it's sparking a lot more interest.

If you are not taking vitamin D3 supplements yet ─ or are not taking at least 1,000 I.U.s of vitaimin D3 each day ─ then if you have any interest in avoiding cancer, you must read for yourself this superb report at drmicozzi.comLower your cancer risk by 83 percent with one simple vitamin.

The report makes reference to this article, but doesn't link to it, so I shall:

I presently take 2,000 I.U.s daily, but now that there are fewer and fewer opportunities to sit outside and bask in sunshine, I will likely be doubling that total once it no longer becomes possible to do that basking. 


There are still people who take aspirin on a daily basis in the belief that doing so will prevent something like a heart-attack or stroke.  Aspirin is even prescribed for this very reason.

Yet many such patients experience gastric ulceration due to the aspirin ─ it can be so severe that many have refused to continue the ridiculous aspirin therapy.

Well, now the medial industry has come up with a medication practically guaranteed to cause a host of problems ─ something that is being called Yosprala:

To gain some insight into just how dangerous this really is, please refer to the following article about this new catastrophe:

Pharmaceutical corporations just cannot seem to come up with anything that is beneficial and yet harmless ─ everything they try to market is too often better described as deadly. 


And now I close off today's post with a 41-year-old journal entry from back when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The very small unit was being rented in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

My plan for the day was a decently long hike out to what I believe was 5870 Sunset Street in Burnaby ─ my father Hector and his girlfriend Maria Fadden had an apartment in that building, if I have the address correct.

I would be returning to my room on foot, as well. 

I never quite knew what to expect when I paid a visit ─ my father and Maria had great difficulty controlling their drinking.
THURSDAY, October 2, 1975

I slept well, arising 5:35 a.m.

It is my plan to cash my cheque after the bank opens, buy 2 money orders at the bank ─ make that 3, then come home for the mass of tissue and take it to dad's.

Well, I bought 4 Canadian money orders ($3, $5, $10, $13), and of course at the post office.  My bank girl was busy and didn't notice me, I guess; but no problem.  

The problem came when I got to dad's; he wasn't there and Marie was stinko.

After about an hour, Marie went into the hall supposedly to find dad; I went into the washroom to prepare to leave.  

They came, with some other guy.  

Everyone was plastered, and they had drink.

They thought I had left, and when I came out of the can, the pathetic twosome were nigh to tears.

Dad had an eviction notice effective for month's end.

I decided to still leave, and after winning free of the door, I thought I had it made; but dad still wasn't through, and I had a drear time breaking company with the woesome wretch there in the parking lot.

He said he ordered a Western ticket for me for this month's draw.

I stopped at Woodward's coming home and bought a $12 money order for Tower of the Elephant or whatever the Howard book is entitled, and I bought close to $6 worth of groceries.

Bed at 9:00 p.m.  
The $160 cheque was issued from an account at the Royal Bank, so I always went to the branch on Columbia Street in New Westminster to cash it because I did not have a bank account anywhere at all ─ nor did I have photo identification.

But there was an employee at that branch who went far beyond the call of duty anytime she saw me, even though she did not know me.  She always vouched for me if another employee was handling me first, for I was generally treated with suspicion due to my want of  proper identification.

But she never noticed me this day, it would seem.  Fortunately, though, I must not have had any trouble getting the cheque cashed. 

I returned to my room for a large collection of culled tissue paper that my mother Irene Dorosh had picked up in her role as an evening office janitress at Scott Paper (now Kruger Inc.) in New Westminster.

The bathroom tissue was either toilet rolls that had been culled due to defects; or else they were some that had been selected for 'quality control' inspection and then discarded.

She used to gather up quite a lot of this material ─ what she gave me was far more than I could ever use. 

Anyway, I hiked all the way out to my father's apartment, only to discover that just Maria was there ─ and drunk.  It would seem that I had to endure a wasted hour trying to be civil and polite before she let me know that he was only visiting someone else in the building.

So off she went to get him.

I had already gotten my fill of visiting, and was intent on leaving.

My father would get unnaturally maudlin and emotional when he was drunk, and that was what I was about to experience.

It hurts me now to read about this, but back then I just couldn't stand the display, even though I knew full well that he loved me and would do whatever he possibly could for me. 

The poor guy even trailed out after me into the parking lot, probably beseeching me to stay.

He and Maria had only lived in the building for about three or four months ─ they had been evicted from their previous apartment in the Mount Pleasant area of Vancouver.  And now it was happening again due to the disorderliness of the pair when they were at their worst.

It was nice of my father to have ordered me a Western Lottery ticket, but what I really wanted was a sober father ─ he was such a reasonable, dear man when he was sober.

I left him, and hiked back to New Westminster.

Woodward's department store was only about three blocks from where I lived.  The store was then located where the Royal City Centre Mall now is, on Sixth Avenue

I'm unsure if I still have that Robert E. Howard book that I ordered ─ I will have to try to remember to make a search and see.

Anyway, I sure do miss my father.  I wish that I could have known that he would die of a heart-attack in February 1983 ─ he was barely 62 years old, having had that birthday just 10 days earlier.

In nine days, I will be having my 67th birthday.  It had been a long time without him in my life.
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