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Saturday, March 18, 2017

Collusion Between Monsanto and the EPA │ Widespread Overlapping Surgeries │ Pfizer Warned About Marketing Contaminated Drugs │ Slow Mainstream Acceptance for Complementary and Alternative Medicine

Last evening was another negative display by my younger brother Mark of just how damaging alcohol can be when continually abused. The example he sets should be adequate to convince anyone of its brain-reducing potential.

After I got fed up with wasting my time sitting up and watching shows with him that he persisted in passing out during, I left him on his semi-conscious own and came upstairs to ready for bed.

It was 11:59 p.m. when I was under the covers ─ far too late. Nevertheless, after a brief initial block of sleep, I was awake enough shortly after 2:00 a.m. that I opted to take a bathroom break and drink some water.

And it was 6:41 a.m. when I eventually checked the time again and decided to get my day started. Considering how dream-filled my night was, it is a shame that none of those fantasies stayed within memory.

I found my youngest step-son Poté to be up when I came downstairs to make my morning's mug of hot instant coffee/cocoa powder blend. He most likely had gotten up earlier to take his overnighted girlfriend somewhere in order for her to start work.

I am still involved with the new post I started some days back at my Lawless Spirit website. However, I wish that my life was such that I need not spend half or more of my waking day blogging in the vain effort to generate a second income. I long instead to be spending my hours exploring the natural world, and exulting in uplifting physical activity.

I miss my youth, and good friends I once had near.

The day has been overcast and quite cool, judging by the temperatures here upstairs where each of the four rooms ─ three bedrooms and a bathroom ─ have windows open to some degree or another. My bared feet are uncomfortable from the chill. Normally the atmosphere upstairs is mainly unaffected by outside conditions, but there is an intrusive breeze that may yet force me to close the window in this small bedroom where I have my computer set up.

Still, I would that I lived somewhere in which I could venture forth into the day, far from the public eye, and the stifling presence of busy streets and near-endless homes and other structures ─ and of course, the innumerable people who are responsible for them all.

Instead, I remain a prisoner within my own home, with nowhere to go; and unable to afford any vital change. My life is unnatural, and I regretfully reflect the fact.

I might as well here offer some further photos taken last Fall when my wife Jack charged up the fare to take a flight back to Thailand to visit her mother for the first time since last seeing her in March 2013.

Jack's family home is in the large village of Nong Soong, which is perhaps a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

On what I suspect was November 8, 2016, Jack and a few others might have been at a market in Udon Thani doing some browsing and shopping. Afterward, they repaired back to a more rural setting in preparation of getting a group meal set up.

Unfortunately, I cannot precisely identify the location for the following photos. Perhaps they were taken somewhere within Nong Soong at a location other than Jack's family home.

In this first photo is a woman that Jack always refers to as being Jack's "sister-cousin":

Jack next decided to capture some shots of the lush vegetation thereabouts, starting with three selfies:

How I would love to live on a tropical property that had a wide assortment of such edibles ─ I am too ignorant to even be able to suggest what these fruits are:

Are these bananas in the next photo?

These things resemble a type of an almost bean-like vegetable Jack often offers as a salad green with some meals:

Another selfie by Jack:

Of course, not all plants are food:

Now, back to that spread ─ here is Jack apparently helping out with some enjoyable chore:

I am unable to identify who this is:

Here is Jack flashing the V sign, and leaning into her "sister-cousin":

Although the driver of the vehicle in this next photo is very indistinct, his rounded physiognomy calls to my mind Jack's only surviving brother, Santi:

More edibles that I cannot identify:

Jack holding whatever the fruit or vegetable is that is depicted in the image above:

I'll end this set with one more photo of Jack's "sister-cousin":

The afternoon today has become remarkably sunny. If it was not so darned breezy outside, I might have tried sitting out in the backyard for awhile. But even so, there is still this post to get completed.

As I have said in recent posts, perhaps I will take leave of blogging this Summer. I am sacrificing my life's hours and health for essentially no reward whatsoever.


I received the following message yesterday, but I am not American and thus have no member of Congress to complain to. However, if you happen to be American, and are fed up with Monsanto and its underhanded, dirty tactics ─ as well as its damaging products that never should have been unleashed upon the world ─ perhaps you will at least use the link in the message to notify your Congress member just where it is that you stand concerning this matter.

Maybe even tweet, if you're into that ─ I didn't realize that the Twitter accounts of members of Congress were publicly available.

I have to admit that even if I was American, I would not call my member of Congress ─ I am too far out in society's fringe, and avoid associating with people.

But you are you ─ not me. Maybe you have a different constitution than have I.

The following came from the Organic Consumers Association:

Demand Congress Investigate Collusion Between Monsanto and the EPA!
The New York Times reported Tuesday (March 14) that a former high-level EPA official collaborated with Monsanto to bury the truth about Monsanto’s Roundup weedkiller.

According to the Times, and other news outlets, Monsanto and the EPA official may have conducted a cover-up in order to protect Monsanto’s billion-dollar flagship product from being taken off the market.

TAKE ACTION: Demand Congress Investigate the collusion between Monsanto and the EPA to bury the truth about Roundup. And in the meantime, ban sales of Roundup until we know the truth!

After you send your email using this form, please call your members of Congress. And don't forget to tweet them!

According to recently unsealed court documents, former EPA official Jess Rowland conspired with Monsanto to ghostwrite toxicology reports that were to be used by government regulators to determine the safety of Roundup.

And then he bragged about it: “If I can kill this [investigation] I should get a medal,” Rowland reportedly told a Monsanto executive, who relayed his comments in an email.

Rowland oversaw an EPA’s cancer assessment for glyphosate, the key ingredient in Roundup. He was also a key author of a report finding glyphosate was not likely to be carcinogenic.

Rowland colluded with Monsanto, even though another former EPA official—a 30-year career EPA scientist—warned Rowland that he was putting the public at risk.

In her 2013 letter to Rowland, the dying Marion Copley (now deceased) accused Rowland of playing “your political conniving games with science” to favor pesticide-makers like Monsanto. In her letter, Copley, a toxicologist, wrote: “It is essentially certain that glyphosate causes cancer.”

Copley’s letter, and the newly unsealed court documents, have come to light as a result of a lawsuit against Monsanto, filed in California by people, or the families of people, diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma after being exposed to glyphosate.

For decades, the evidence has been mounting that Roundup causes cancer. Yet even after a panel of 17 scientists with the World Health Organization unanimously agreed that Roundup is a “probably carcinogenic,” Monsanto has refused to acknowledge the evidence.

Instead, the company continues to profit from sales of a product—a product sold both commercially and in retail stores—that is linked to cancer.

TAKE ACTION: Demand Congress Investigate the collusion between Monsanto and the EPA to bury the truth about Roundup. And in the meantime, ban sales of Roundup until we know the truth!


I would like to know how serious the situation in Canada is concerning overlapping surgeries ─ I know that it is prevalent in the U.S., yet few in the public are aware that it takes place.

What of you?

Note these two reports about the latest study on the topic ─ there have been others before it:



As patients, we most certainly have a right to be outraged that something like this would be getting inflicted upon us...but I cannot imagine myself pinning down my surgeon on whether he or she would be engaging in the practice while I was on the operating table.

Perhaps if it was a life-threatening surgery? I just hope that I never need to learn if I have it in me to speak out or not.

Unfortunately, I think that's the case with most of us.


It's bad enough that so many medications come with such incredible risks ─ some are pages long! But when a pharmaceutical company is found to be selling drugs that are contaminated with foreign substances, one might think that there would be a big penalty to pay.

Well, apparently not. Or at least, not in America ─ I truly sympathize for you poor souls living there.

Here are some reports about the most recent case that has come to light:




As that last report concludes, your sole best defence is simply to avoid medications unless they are absolutely essential.


Although complementary and alternative medicine (CAM) is finding a place in mainstream medical care, the progress towards employing it is not exactly tsunami-like.

And there are still die-hard mainstreamers who are too stubbornly blind to see any merit in aught but drugs, radiation, and surgeries:



I guess it's much like farming ─ we absolutely have to do away with monoculture, megafarms and concentrated animal feeding operations, and anything at all involving the Monsanto way of doing things.


That sunshine has maintained, and augers most well for the morrow.

I close now with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster. That small space I as renting was located in a house situated on Ninth Street, and one or two houses up from Third Avenue.
THURSDAY, March 18, 1976

I'm not hogging sleep like I was till even a couple nights ago, but I do find it necessary to remain abed long so as to return to sleep after periods of consciousness.

I had a NE late last night.

I arose at 6:00 a.m.

I decided to finish off dad's letter this morning.

I went searching for, and after enquiring found, the electric razor head shop which was nearly at 6th Ave on 6th St; I paid $7.98 total to have the two heads replaced.

Once I have built up my courage I'll again brave the world (I am back-combing my hair and feel very conspicuous about the disappointing profile), and take my declaration form to the welfare, then proceed to Zellers and buy another jacket if they have anything to satisfy me. 

Then I suppose I'll head for Mark's and pay Cathy the visit she more or less requested Tuesday. Too, I'll mail my letters to dad and Ron.

I did all this.

Cathy was out, and didn't come in till the end of the movie at 12:45 p.m., ruining it, I guess.

Anyway, I stayed all day, had a plate of stew for supper with everyone (including Wendy), and actually received favourable comments from all 3 on my hairdo.

Mark, Cathy, and I after 9:00 p.m. went to the Flamingo where I blew the last of my cash (about $3). When we left, they insisted I sleep the night. But I felt too vertiginous, so headed home, actually jogging all of the bridge.

I retired about 2:15 a.m.

I spoke a bit with Garry on the phone.
I sure do miss nocturnal emissions and wet dreams ─ I always made a distinction between the two terms. If I could recall no dream, then I deemed it simply a nocturnal emission.

But I far preferred having the dream to recollect!

Whenever I cut my hair, it just about always shook my nerve and self-confidence, for I generally had fairly long hair.

I was collecting social assistance back then, and had to submit a declaration each month maintaining continued need. It also included my rent receipt.

My younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther were renting a home together that was located on Bentley Road in Whalley ─ a bit of a walk from New Westminster. Jeanette and I sometimes got on each other's nerves; but overall, I loved her dearly. I have always regretted that I was in no position financially to take up with her when she and Mark were to have their irreparable rift. 

The letter I mailed to Ron was to an American pen-pal ─ Ron Bain. I wish I had maintained contact with my pen-pals, but I was soon to have to leave New Westminster after living there for seven or eight years, and just about my entire life there was left behind for all time.

The other supper guest at Mark & Jeanette's home was my young maternal cousin Wendy Halverson. She seemed to be quite a fixture at that house. It may have been much earlier at the house while I was alone, waiting for Jeanette to show up, that I must have answered a call from Mark's old friend Garry Porteous. 

The Flamingo Hotel still exists at 10768 King George Boulevard ─ Mark, Jeanette, and I went to its beer parlour or pub. We could easily have walked there, but I bet we did not. Back then, just about every hotel had beer parlours or pubs, and almost all of those had stripper entertainment. The Flamingo is one of the few around anymore that still does ─ it operates as the Byrd

I haven't been there in maybe a dozen years, but Mark still drops in ─ he can afford to, for he still works for a living. My monthly pension allows of no such pastime. 

I used to be a tough customer to get to spend the night anywhere when I was visiting people ─ I always did my best to head on for my room, even if it meant sneaking out of someone's house in the wee hours. I absolutely hated trying to get back to my room during the morning after a night of drinking ─ I much preferred to be safely and securely back in my room, out of sight from the bustling world.

I sorrowfully wish that when he was drinking, Mark today was more like the young brother I remember. 
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