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Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Concerning Cancer │ Let the Seasons Dictate Your Diet │ Food Expiration Dates

If I recollect correctly, my bedtime last evening was 10:46 p.m. ─ or could it have been as early as 10:36 p.m.? The fragility of short-term memory in this 67-year-old!

I managed to arrive at sleep readily enough, but my first break that resulted in a visit to the bathroom ─ as well as a drink of water ─ was during the midnight hour.

Still, overall I felt that I had a decent enough night of it. However, well before 5:30 a.m., I had doubts that I would manage any further sleep. But I rolled over onto my front and pulled my pillow longitudinally under my belly and rib-cage, and soon enough must have fallen asleep ─ for when next I checked the time, it was past 6:45 a.m.

I rose, and found my youngest step-son Poté just about ready to head off to work.

I recall that I had at least one rather interesting dream at some point before I rose for the day, but there is nothing remaining of it in memory now. If only I could better recall dreams!

Anyway, upon making my morning's mug of a hot blend of instant coffee / cocoa powder, I got to work adding more content into my Thai-Iceland website. I put a halt to the work shortly after mid-morning, and started readying for an outing this predominantly overcast day.

While getting myself ready, I weighed myself whilst utterly naked, and was not exactly delighted to register in at 185/186 pounds. My usual adult weight for most of my life has been in the lower 180s.

I was going to wear my denim jacket, but I found it almost Wintry chilly out there; so I settled upon my black leather jacket. And at 10:17 a.m., I was on my way.

My younger brother Mark had given me his monthly expenses reconciliation cheque on Sunday ─ this one included his half of the $1,473 annual City of Surrey utility bill that was due yesterday. So my first destination was the Coast Capital Savings ATM at their new building over by the King George SkyTrain Station just about a mile from here where we live.

With the cheque deposited, my second and final destination was the Staples outlet nearly a quarter of a mile further along the King George Boulevard. I had five items that I wanted to print out to include in the income tax returns that I have ready for my wife Jack and I, as well as her youngest son Poté.

I have used a printer there at least once before, but this time I just could not seem to fathom how to print the documents. It probably was no help that I had gotten flustered by finding ─ after logging in at a computer with my credit card and getting dinged for the first minute of use ─ that the computer's USB ports were unavailable for whatever damned reason.

Why the Hell not have the machine unplugged, in that case? Or at least place a sign across the screen or keyboard.

So while I was operating the second computer and watching the timer hike the cost of my use with each passing minute, I had to ask a younger lass for help who had happened by with the intention of getting something printed for herself.

What I was doing wrong was accessing my USB flash drive on the computer, and highlighting the five items I wanted printed, gullibly believing that I would only have to tag some printer icon and all five items would then print in sequential order.

What I needed to have done was to just open each document and then print each one individually.

So even though the print job costs 49¢ per black & white page getting printed, my total cost due to wasted time was probably around $10. I think the charge is something like 34¢ or 35¢ per minute in addition to the cost of the printing itself.

I will have to file away this experience to try and access from memory the next time I need to print anything.

Once I was outside and commencing my walk back to home, I found myself now very warm. My arms and armpits were clammy in my leather jacket. The overcast sky was actually more like a thick haze, with the Sun weakly trying to shine through.

I was back here by 11:29 a.m.

By the way, I took a photo of Staples as I approached it from the highway ─ its location is 10136 King George Boulevard:  

There hardly ever seems to be many customers within the place, and I have long wondered how they remain in operation. I think that people have to know specifically of its location to realize that it exists. Anyone just traveling along the King George would likely whiz right on by it without noticing it.


Insofar as I know, none of my loved ones ─ nor even myself ─ have any kind of cancer.

But if I or one of my loved ones did, would mainstream cancer treatment be the first option? Or would I gamble that there are safer and surer options out there?

What about you?

Check out the article below ─ it claims that where false diagnoses of cancer are concerned, the following statistics are the way of it:
  • 49 percent of patients tested for recurrent colorectal cancer will receive a false-positive this year.
  • 75 percent of patients tested for prostate cancer (using the PSA test) will receive a false-positive this year.
  • 90 percent of breast abnormalities will turn out to be false-positives.
Here is the article:


If you referred to the article, you would have found that Dr. Marc S. Micozzi has something he calls an Authentic Anti-Cancer Protocol wherewith he will "personally teach you step-by-step how to combat and protect yourself from virtually any type of cancer in any part of your body. I dive deep into everything from colon cancer to squamous cell carcinoma of the skin."

If there was a cancer in myself or someone I loved that I was dreadfully worried about, I expect that I would investigate what was being offered.

However, lacking that motivation, I am not going to sit through an essentially commercial video that is over 30 minutes in length; and I am certainly not going to spring for the $279 U.S. to gain access to whatever is there within the protocol just to see what it is all about.

Nevertheless, perhaps you have the desperation ─ and that is the only reason that I have included this material in today's post. If there is any chance that the information can actually be life-saving, then it merits being known.

As I said, though, I honestly have no idea what this protocol will involve, nor if it is truly life-saving.


I mentioned just recently that although I sense there is wisdom in allowing the seasons of the year to dictate what sort of diet each of us should be centring ourselves around, the concept is still just a little too 'fringe' for me to find myself wanting to get much involved with it.

Despite that, I will  offer the following short article to you for your own appraisal ─ perhaps you are just slightly more open to it than I presently am:


Again, I do sense that there is wisdom and merit to the idea, but I cannot yet make the leap to practicing it.


Do you ever wrestle with expiry dates on various food and related items? I don't get too worked up where things like dry vitamins or something like that are concerned, but I would be reluctant to knowingly consume fish oil or vitamin E after it had aged too much because these oils do turn rancid.

Likewise, any sort of liquid 'elixir' that is supposed to enhance one's well-being or immunity is probably prey to spoilage or deterioration.

The following couple of reports are certainly good news for Americans if the change being spoken of does indeed come about ─ I would hope that it gets extended to Canada:



That second report talked some of how long bread should be usable.

As far as I am concerned, if the bread hasn't begun to mold, then I will use it. We've got the tail-end of at least one loaf of so-called white bread in the fridge that one or the other of my two step-sons bought at some distant point in the past, but I am not concerned with that ─ I wouldn't eat the crap if it was same-day fresh.


Here it is now 4:02 p.m., and my wife Jack has yet to make her appearance ─ when she was here yesterday, she said that she would definitely be back today.

I am going to close off now while I can with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster. The house I was renting the small affair in was located on Ninth Street, and perhaps a couple of houses up from Third Avenue.
SUNDAY, April 4, 1976

I had a NE; after 2:00 a.m. till my arisal at 5:30 a.m., I slept rather poorly.

My bad complexion is going to keep me from a considered lake walk on this day with promise of sunshine.

My liver breakfast was beautiful, as I expect will be my lunch. I sure hope Woodward's tomorrow still has their 65¢ a lb. special available.

I finished Terri's letter.

I've been feeling strange, rather light-headed; I wonder if 3 lbs of liver over a period of 2 days can be harmful to some degree?

About David's note: closer inspection revealed it may have been a request for Bill & I to call on him yesterday.

I was going to go to the park at dusk to exercise, but what the hey!

I was looking thru my Weider catalog and I've decided to invest in their exercising set the "Canadiana 16," if I can find one here in town.

I feel quite lively, what with this determination and the flashback music on CFUN.  

I'll retire at 8:30 p.m.
How I struggled with my complexion at times! I mustn't have had an operating sun lamp at this time, for the deep reddening my lamp afforded usually did a decent job of camouflaging problem eruptions.

The letter I finished composing was to American pen-pal Terri Martin.

The note from my old friend Philip David Prince had been left by him around 3:30 a.m. two nights earlier. He had his own room elsewhere in New Westminster, and it would have been an easy walk for him.

I had thought that he was complaining in his note that another old friend of mine ─ William Alan Gill ─ and I were to have visited David at noon the day prior to David leaving the note. Yet I had been unaware of any such arrangement.

However, renewed scrutiny of the note had apparently now suggested the likelihood that David had asked for Bill and I to come by David's room later the same day that he had left me the note.

Either way, he never got our visit.

The exercise that I would have gotten after dark at Queen's Park would have been acquired at an outdoor fitness circuit the park still has.

I did some research to rediscover what the "Canadiana 16" was ─ it was a set of steel chest-expander cables.

Okay, my wife Jack has shown up ─ roughly 4:30 p.m. at latest. I am done blogging for the day. 

It is lightly raining out there now.
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