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Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Saturated Fats Are Not Behind Heart Disease! │ Mothers, Love, and Oxytocin │ In Defence of Metformin │ Codeine and Tramadol Medications Can Kill Children Under 12

Last evening's bedtime was 10:43 p.m., if I am remembering correctly. And I ended my night this morning with a time check of 6:08 a.m. I had not been sleeping well in the latter stages.

Initially I thought that my eldest stepson Tho had failed to get up and go to work, but that impression was wrong. His younger brother Poté was still in bed; but it wasn't too very long before he was up, too, and by 7:25 a.m. he had also left to go to work.

There were at least a couple of impressive rain showers over the early part of the morning.

I put more work into the post I have going at my Lawless Spirit website, and hoped that I would have it in me to maybe get out for some local shopping. But that was not to happen.

The day has found me at a very low ebb. Sometimes I think that something is intrinsically amiss with me ─ and of course I am speaking of me physically, and not my askew 'moral compass' that I alredy know is dysfunctional.

I hoped that a late-morning nap would revitalize me; but although it helped, it was not enough to overcome the whole scope of whatever ill has me.

I am wondering if doing hardly anything else all day but sit here at my computer is bringing me harm beyond the implications of sustained physical idleness? Perhaps there is some elemental damage being caused by such proximal exposure to this device ─ my computer. After all, I have been spending eight to 12 hours (and sometimes even more) a day engaged with computers since at least September 1996 ─ how can such a long engagement be entirely harmless?

I know with certainty that it is damaging my eyes.

God could never have intended this sort of thing, and it mystifies me why He is content to leave me in financial thralldom to this machine, futilely trying to wrest some sort of decent second income from the Internet as I am.

I must soon desist. My health is suffering too adversely. And at the age of 67, there are not the reserves from which I can recover much of the vigour that I once enjoyed even if I do forsake this daily punishment.

The afternoon is overcast as I type these words at 2:19 p.m., but I daresay that there just may be sunny breaks ahead. And the weather is supposed to pick up as the week progresses.

n another matter, as of yesterday I have posted all of the photos taken when my wife Jack returned to her home village of Nong Soong in Thailand last Fall, but I have a 30-second video clip that she took while she and some of her family members were standing in a long line-up in Bangkok. The description beneath the video is the one I gave at YouTube where I uploaded the clip:

My wife took this 30-second clip on October 29, 2016, as she and some of her family members waited in the long line-up to get a chance to eventually gain entry into the Throne Hall at the Grand Palace to pay their respects in front of the golden urn of Thailand's late King Bhumibol Adulyadej in Bangkok, Thailand.

Although my wife's mother did get her chance ─ possibly because of special consideration that may have been given to the elderly ─ my wife never got admitted that day.

She had been in line since the morning, but the palace doors were closed in the evening before she had reached them.

She could have tried again the following day, but she wasn't keen on being in line like that again, and potentially still not get into the palace. What was important was that her mother at least did get in, and was able to express her deep respects to the monarch.

So instead of the family spending a second day in the capital city, they decided to go and visit the ruins at Ayutthaya Historical Park for the very first time, and then return to their village very near to the city of Udon Thani.
Now before I leave this section concerning my day thus far, I want you to try and imagine that you are a member of an American farming family who have a huge acreage; and that for 18 years, your farm has supplied certified organic foods such as regular wheat, Einkorn wheat, field peas, barley, and even beef to the marketplace.

Then suddenly, the county your farm is in decides to change the wording of a statutory code so that instead of stating that various weeds have to be controlled, it now declares that they have to be eradicated.

In farming, the only way to accomplish such a feat is by using toxic herbicides ─ which is precisely what the county now demands. In fact, they are going to do it themselves, applying very polluting and harmful poisons like Milestone, Escort, and Roundup.

This will of course destroy your organic certification as a farm.

But further than that, the county declares that you are going to not only have to pay for the cost of the herbicides, but also for all of the labour involved.

And to ensure that you do pay, they will place a lien upon the farm.

It sounds like a nightmare, doesn't it?

Well, it is what one farming family are facing.

I got word of this just this morning:

Act by May 17: No Forced Spraying of Roundup on this Organic Farm!
County officials want to spray a 2,000-acre certified organic farm in Oregon with Monsanto’s cancer-causing Roundup and other pesticides—and force the farm to pay for it!

Officials in Central Oregon’s Sherman County say they need to spray Azure Farms in order to eradicate “noxious weeds.” Owners of the farm (which has been USDA certified organic for 18 years) say if the county follows through with its plans, it could put the farm out of business.

Azure Farms, located in Moro, Ore., is no small operation. Azure provides nearly all the organic wheat, field peas, barley, Einkorn and beef for Azure Standard, a major independent distributor of organic and non-GMO foods in the U.S.

The “noxious weeds” in question—Morning Glory, Canada Thistle and Whitetop—have co-existed with the farm’s organic crops for years, without causing problems for the farm or the lands around it, according to the farm’s owners. They say they have successfully managed the weeds using organic farming and weed-control practices.

But Sherman County could issue a court order as early as Monday, May 22, to force the entire farm under quarantine while county officials douse the property in Roundup and other toxic herbicides. The chemicals, which could be applied to an area one-and-a-half times the size of the city center of Philadelphia, may also affect the surrounding areas, causing unpredictable health and environmental effects.

To add insult to injury, the County has threatened to place a lien on the farm to guarantee payment to the County for the labor and chemicals.

The order follows a change in the interpretation of a county code, from “controlling” noxious weeds to “eradicating them.” Azure Farm’s owners say the County’s plan is flawed because it’s nearly impossible to completely eradicate the weeds—so all the County will succeed in doing is putting Azure Farm out of business.

I signed to voice my objection, even though I am Canadian. This is just too darned outrageous. Who runs the county ─ Monsanto?

Whoever they are, they all deserve to be trounced right out of their jobs ─ fired!


I believe that it was within the past four days that I posted about the three cardiologists who have put their necks at risk and come forth to proclaim that saturated fats have nothing to do with heart disease.

I also pointed out that organizations like the American Heart Association ─ which staunchly pushes statins because it regularly goes to bed with a number of pharmaceutical organizations that it openly refers to as 'partners' ─ has in my mind no foundation to be standing against what these three authorities have declared.

Regardless of having already posted about the three doctors, I want to do so again with these four references you would do well to scour:





Obviously a person still has to include healthy foods in his or her diet, and get in some activity. But there is no reason to abide by the nonsensical recommendations to eat low-fat dairy products, skinless poultry and fish, and non-tropical vegetable oils ─ for example, the AHA wants people to avoid coconut oil, but embrace the likes of canola and corn oils.

Likewise to eating low-sodium.


Mother's Day was yesterday, but there is no reason to now dismiss all thoughts of the dear woman.

The following article is a beautiful description, and tells some amazing things about the hormone oxytocin:


The bonds forged by oxytocin cannot be sustained indefinitely without reinforcement ─ in other words, exercising those priceless expressions of our love for one another.


If a person has type 2 diabetes and needs to take a medication for it, and if metformin is the best medication there is, then why do any type 2 diabetics bother with any other kind of medication for their condition?

I am just musing on the following interesting article that defends metformin after a published study earlier this year implicated it as a risk factor for dementia:


I honestly don't know what to say about metformin.


Are you aware that children under the age of 12 are not supposed to take any medications containing codeine or tramadol? It can kill them

Further, even teens below the age of 19 are at risk!



Nothing will change.

Nothing ever seems to change ─ at least not soon enough ─ when it comes to drug safety.


Those sunny breaks did start appearing in the latter afternoon, although never for too long.

I am going to close off now with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 23 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster. I was paying rent in a house located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.

After doing considerable drinking the afternoon, evening, and night prior, I did not make it to bed until 5:00 a.m. Yet I had plans later this day to watch the Olympic Lottery draw on the colour T.V. of my old friend William Alan Gill, whose rented bachelor suite may have been little more than four blocks from my room.

I had such great hope riding on that lottery. 
SUNDAY, May 16, 1976

I finally got up about 11:20 a.m., just after I was certain knocking David had left.

I sure have squandered my cash; I bleed to win the Olympic Lottery tonight and shuck my present lifestyle!

I'm going to mail a $12.50 tithe today.

I thought I would go see mom today, sick as I felt; Bill with his mother came, however. We went to O'Farrell's.

I grew iller with the passage of time.

Anyway, as the lottery drew near I phoned mom and got the number of my 4th ticket; she rather expected Bill & I to visit today.

The earthquake which we revelers felt in a Bellingham tavern was more pronounced out here.

Well, the lottery came on, and I was 1 numeral from winning $100, but that was it. I was too sick to much care. A plate of food was my limit.

We took Bill's mother home early, and stopped in later at the Bluebird where I blew $1.75 on a lousy Knave

At home I got into action, but it was Bill's Penthouse that brought results shortly before 9:00 p.m.

I went to bed at 9:10 p.m.
My old friend Philip David Prince lived in a room elsewhere in New Westminster ─ 330 Fourth Street, in fact. I was in no mood for his company, so I ignored his knocking until he had left, and then got up to face the day. 

My mother Irene Dorosh lived out in Surrey ─ her home was my main mailing address. If I had tried to hike out there like I was considering doing, even on a great day it would have taken me 1½ hours.

Thankfully I was spared by the arrival of Bill ─ his mother Anne Gregory would have been waiting out in his car.

If we went and did some shopping at the "O'Farrell's" supermarket, then we were nearly to my mother's home. That store used to be in the Scottown or Scott-Town shopping plaza located at Scott Road (120th Street) & 96th Avenue. Her home was little more than another half-dozen blocks from there.

Bill had been involved in the previous night's drinking, as had my younger brother Mark and Mark's girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther. We had gone so far as to visit Bellingham and one or more taverns, and there we were when an earthquake must have shaken the premises we were in.

I can actually remember an occasion like that ─ perhaps this very one. You see, Bill had the sometimes annoying habit of sitting at a table and making his knee bounce up and down rapidly ─ it's a type of nervous condition. 

During the occasion in mind, we thought he was at it again and threatening to dislodge our beer from the table ─ he seemed to be doing it with such gusto.

But he was innocent ─ it was an earthquake shaking the place.

Anyway, after Bill, his mother Anne, and I had shopped at "O'Farrell's," I reckon we went to his suite so that Anne could cook up supper for us.

We ate, and watched the lottery ─ I think that tickets cost $10 apiece, and I had shares in four of them. But all for nothing. 

I rode with Bill when he drove his mother home to Maillardville; and then we returned to New Westminster and stopped in at a family-owned convenience store called Bluebird ─ it had a surprisingly good stock of comic books and paperbacks...and apparently pornography.

Stopping at that store proved to be my undoing after Bill dropped me off at my room. My nervous system was in disarray, and I no doubt felt dejected and alone ─ particularly after losing the lottery and finding myself left with the coming bleak week stuck at a job that was oppressing me beyond explaining.
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