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Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Hacking of Pacemakers Is a Genuine Threat │ Low-Fat Dairy Diet Linked to Parkinson's Disease

The unexpected happened yesterday ─ my wife Jack was to spend a second consecutive night here at home instead of in Vancouver. As a result of having slept so inadequately Monday night, I never undertook any exercise at all yesterday.

Was this to be my fate today, too?

The girl certainly did some commendable cleaning work last afternoon of the backyard tool shed, and also a storage room that is attached to the house. I primarily stayed clear, and left her two sons to deal with her ─ she tends to become far too bitchy for my tolerance.

But I must say that the tool shed has never looked so neat and clean! It's still bad, but to thoroughly clean it up would require taking absolutely everything out of it and cleaning from there.

A couple of spiders ─ the sort that make a mainly horizontal platform-like web, and have a funnel like hideaway at an end or corner of the web where they await prey that may happen upon the web sheet ─ are now homeless. They had been in their locations for potentially a few years.

And those are just the two that I was aware of.

I was never really sure when or if Jack was to leave us to return to Vancouver yesterday, and it kept me wondering as the evening began to wear on. My younger brother Mark had come home from the bar and had some of her supper, and then passed out for awhile in his chair in the living room as Jack and I watched some T.V.

However, I realized well before Mark finally retired to his bedroom upstairs that Jack was not to be leaving us to go anywhere. She was here to remain.

This would spell another later than normal evening for me, so towards the midnight hour I began watching for my opportunity to hie myself to bed. I cannot do so when she is in and out of the bedroom, for one reason or another.

I believe that she may have been involved in the bathroom when I finally made my bid to go to bed, donning earplugs and blindfold as I did so. I think that it may have been around 12:10 a.m. It rather surprised me when Jack followed suit around 15 minutes or less afterward.

I had a better night of it than I did Monday night. In fact, I never even knew when her eldest son Tho probably roused her this morning to drive him to the SkyTrain so that he could get to work out in Burnaby from here in Surrey. Tho usually takes a bus to get to the SkyTrain, but he's too soft and lazy to do it when his mother is here to take advantage of.

So I must have slept unawares when he summoned her; heck, I did not even notice when she had come back home and returned to bed.

I did my very best to capture as much sleep as I could. And when finally I checked the time because I felt able to get a start on my day, I was a little surprised to find that it was perhaps two or three minutes beyond 7:40 a.m.

Her youngest son Poté must have the day off work. It is 12:13 p.m. as I type these words, and he is still home and in bed.

Anyway, after I had begun working this morning at adding further content into the post I am building at my Lawless Spirit website, Jack soon rose ─ this was most unusual for her, since she tries to sleep in to as near noon as she can.

She announced that she just could not sleep, and had made the decision to go and visit the Thai Buddhist temple in Burnaby ─ Wat Budhapanyanantarama. 

To that end, she was soon busy cooking so that she could take some food to the monks, and then getting dressed up in temple-friendly wear...when suddenly she exclaimed in good-humoured exasperation that she had just checked and the monks were not at the temple.

They often attend various functions.

She thought that perhaps she might yet salvage everything and instead go to the Thai Buddhist temple in Vancouver ─ Wat Yanviriya. However, when she tried phoning them, she only got their answering service. It was 9:40 a.m. at very most.

I did some online investigation, and found their hours listed as spanning 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. daily, except for Sunday when they remain open until 10:00 p.m.

It would be senseless for Jack to undertake the rather long drive into Vancouver entirely on speculation that those monks, too, would not have some function with which they were involved, so she just decided to give it all up and remain home.

Anon, Jack was to decide that she would just get out and do some shopping at a nearby Walmart. And that freed me up to make up for yesterday somewhat, and get in a session of exercise in the backyard tool shed.

I found the pull-ups to be more of a strain than I anticipated. As I was to discover when I had finished and returned into the house for a weigh-in, I registered about 187 or 188 pounds ─ my usual adult weight tends to be in the low 180s. So this might be the reason for the perceived extra strain.

Jack's absence also allowed me to get a start on this post.

She was away for a generous amount of time. At her return, we soon had some lunch ─ my first meal of the day. I did some yard work, pulling up more bindweed, and digging out a few dandelions. Jack was busy with some kitchen chores.

Then finally ahead of 2:00 p.m., she apparently sought a nap. And that has allowed me to return to work upon this post. It is 2:18 p.m.

For a few years now, there has been speculation of the potential of hackers getting around to turning their attention to medical devices. This article may be somewhat extreme with its intensity, but it should give you some idea of what could be in store if this is ground unfamiliar to you:


Here are a couple of other (more tempered) reports on that security investigation into the medical devices that the article had talked about ─ I think that they both link to the actual investigative report:



If you or any of your loved ones have no need for any such surgical implants, be thankful. I cannot imagine having to live the remainder of my life with anything like them.

More and more, we are learning that the outdated and incorrect dogma which declares that people need to shun whole-fat foods and seek out the low-fat varieties, has been criminally damaging.

Now a new study has found that adhering to such a diet considerably increases a person's risk of developing Parkinson's disease:


The absolute nonsense that low-fat dairy products are the healthiest option has got to be eradicated from everyone's thinking ─ it is a perverse lie.

Here are a couple of further reports on this latest finding:



I love full-fat dairy. Unfortunately, back in my early adulthood, I also believed the low-fat lie. I never had the vaguest inkling of how valuable and wholesome dairy fat was. 

Okay, an update on my day now.

I was to find myself home alone shortly after 3:00 p.m. I thought that maybe Poté did have to work, but had a later shift, for he drove off shortly after 2:30 p.m. while his mother was still in our bedroom. 

However, he was back again just after 5:30 p.m.

Jack soon rose after Poté had fooled me into thinking that maybe he had gone to work; and just a few minutes after 3:00 p.m., I saw her off on her busy drive back to Vancouver where she would spend tonight. She never indicated when she might be back. 

We had the pleasure of her company for something like 45 hours this time. And there is much interesting food to eat that she prepared and left for everyone here.

I suppose that I could have sat outside during the latter afternoon for awhile once she was gone, catching some of the sunshine that was then prevailing. But instead, I remained in the house as a result of a wayward slide that I only corrected with Poté's return.

"When the cat's away...."

Tomorrow will witness stricter correctitude on my part. If the weather report is accurate, I even ought to be able to do some actual sunning.

Today was the first full day of Summer, incidentally.

I want to post the following scanned image of my older half-sister Phyllis and our mother Irene Dorosh:

The reverse of the photo is stamped or imprinted with the date April 1990, which would have to be when the roll of film was developed that this photo's negative exposure was a part of. But if the setting is my mother's home, that interior seems unfamiliar to me.

Perhaps the setting was Phyllis's home? That is certainly possible.

But whatever the case many be, here to close out today's post is a journal entry of mine from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a New Westminster basement housekeeping unit that I was renting in a house located on Ninth Street, and perhaps two houses up from Third Avenue.

I must have been nearing the completion of my first month of full-time employment on what was likely a three-month contract with a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that today calls itself Fraserside Community Services Society.  

In those earliest years of its existence, S.A.N.E. was housed in an old building on Carnarvon Street. That old building no longer exists, but it was situated right about where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station today spreads forth onto Carnarvon Street. 

I was generally working as a swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue puck-up truck, which was usually driven by a wonderful woman in her early 40s named Esther St. Jean.
MONDAY, June 21, 1976

I've been awake since before 5:00 a.m.

Last night I decided to abandon my awful week-end overeating habit, and keep in view proper nutrition and fitness.

I lied down for 1½ hours; I enjoyed it mostly, but didn't get much further sleep.

For the first time this year I am going out into the world without any cover over my T-shirt. 

It's sunny.

Esther didn't come in the morning, not being expected till 1:00 p.m. So I took an early lunch and bought $5.11 in groceries at Safeway

Esther didn't come in till 3:00 p.m., and there was no heavy work to do.

Gilles came in today, wasting 20 minutes of my after-work time; he just doesn't want to leave me to myself.

My bedtime is just past 10:00 p.m.
I actually wrote that I lied down for 1½ 'minutes' ─ not 'hours.' But 'minutes' made no sense at all, so I made the alteration as I was typing out the entry.

I generally wore open jackets or untucked shirts over my t-shirts ─ I was usually too uncomfortable being seen in just a t-shirt. I was extremely physique self-conscious, never feeling good enough to be on public display.

"Gilles" was a very talkative young French Canadian lad who was often employed part-time at S.A.N.E. He was very likable, but I felt that he and I had little in common, and so I was disinclined to have my time consumed by him. 

And with Gilles, there was seldom such a thing as having his company for just a short while. I had other things I wanted to be doing with my personal time ─ not fruitlessly idling away hours with him because he had nothing better to do with himself.

Still, I would love to know what became of him in later life. 
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