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Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Diebold ATMs in the U.S. Being Hacked and Tricked into Emptying Themselves Out │ Important Information for Type II Diebetics and for Expectant Mothers Suffering Morning Sickness

I am at such an impasse trying to understand why it is that I am sleeping so poorly each night now.

Last night I was to bed at 10:48 p.m.

Oh, I got to sleep in what amounts to be the usual amount of time for me. That is rarely the problem.

I just cannot remain asleep for long anymore.

When I found myself so awake after a first break in sleep that I checked the time, it was a mere 1½ hours after I first went to bed!

I was able to return to sleep ─ but peculiarly, in another 1½ hours I was again checking the time.

And so it went throughout the night.

By around 3:30 a.m. I was eager to find it late enough into the morning that I could just get up, but I try to delay doing that until after my younger brother Mark has gone to work around 5:00 a.m. ─ he rises around 4:00 a.m.

So I suffered, and managed to eventually find another nap or two before checking the time at 5:08 a.m. and finally being able to end my wasteful misery of being abed.

All the while I had been wearing earplugs, so I was never privy to any external noises that may have been bothersome. I had heard nothing of Mark, for example.

It was my hope to be able to get out this morning to do some grocery shopping.

But first, I was busy at work adding content to the new post set up yesterday at Amatsu Okiya, one of my six hosted websites.

My eldest stepson Tho ─ who had not bothered going to work yesterday ─ was to soon be up; and at 6:08 a.m. he was out the front door to drive his mother's car to work (his mother is holidaying at the family home back in Thailand).

Around the time (circa 10:00 a.m.) that I completed the minimum of work that I had as my morning's assignment, my youngest stepson Poté had risen. And soon, he was into the bathroom here upstairs to (I suppose) freshen up.

I needed for him to either still be in bed, or else gone to work ─ anytime leaving the house is involved for me, I am sufficiently reclusive that it takes me awhile to feel properly geared up to be going public. That, of course, involves getting my beard neat.

I need the bathroom for that. Nevertheless, if his presence in it meant that he was about to be heading away for work, then I was amenable to the inconvenience, so I lay myself down to bide some time.

Soon, I was so overcome with the effect of my inadequate night's sleep that I had to close my bedroom door and actually climb into bed.

I must have spent over an hour there, although I am unsure if I dropped off into any sort of significant nap.

When I reluctantly rose, it was to notice a white car sitting parked outside on the street before out driveway. Poté's girlfriend has such a car.

Sure enough. He had not gone anywhere. Instead, he had just been preparing himself for the arrival of his girlfriend, and the pair of them were back in his bed ─ he sleeps in the boys' den area, and there is no door to its entrance; thus I was able to discern that the bed was occupied when I had gone downstairs and directed my glance toward it.

This so deflated all spirit of hope within me that in resignation, I forsook getting out anywhere, and instead made a proper return to bed. Besides, it was already into the noon-hour ─ the world outside is just too unattractively busy for my liking by then.

How I resented this, wishing that the young impediment to my peace of mind was just not living here.

Or that I lived elsewhere!

This time I did nap, for I had donned earplugs as well as blindfold. But I spent over an hour again in my bed.

When I rose, I saw that the girlfriend's car was still outside, but Poté's was gone. They may have just gone out to some fast food joint for beverages and / or a meal.

But it was also possible that since they are co-workers at the same sporting goods shop, maybe they had the same shift today and went to work in his car.

Which of course would mean that Poté would still be bringing her back here later.

None of that mattered, however. His presence was sufficient to derail my morning's plans, and now the shopping expedition was off.

And despite all of the time spent in bed, my eyes still burn from inadequate sleep. What the hell's wrong with me?

It would have been a decent day to have been able to get out ─ overcast, and with even the evidence of some very light rain that wetted the area in the early afternoon.

I cannot help but wonder if my depressions are now so pervasive that it is no longer possible for me to peacefully sleep through a night?

But if that were so, then I would think that each of my wakeful periods would be fraught with worry and despair, and that is not so with me. Instead, I am only beset with irritation that I am suffering yet another session of wakefulness marring my night.

No matter what, I must get out and shop tomorrow morning!

Switching topics, a couple or so days ago I meant to link to an article telling of how thieves are now targeting a certain line of ATMs in the U.S. by actually altering its programming so that it will dispense cash to the tune of about 40 bills every 23 seconds.

Apparently it's thus far only being work on Diebold ATMs, "but it warned that small changes to the malware’s code could enable it to be used against 40 different ATM vendors in 80 countries."

There are Diebold ATMs here in Canada. In fact, the company providing them has a Canadian subsidiary, as can be seen at this Canadian government website IC.gc.ca: The Diebold Company of Canada Limited.

The "IC" of the Canadian website is a very short abbreviation for Innovation, Science and Economic Development Canada, although it applies much more clearly to the department's former name ─ Industry Canada.

Anyway, refer to the article about all of this for yourself:


I have a couple of health-related articles that I would also like to refer to anyone with an interest in the articles' respective areas.

The first ought to be of importance to absolutely anyone affected by Type Ⅱ diabetes ─ the title should be sufficient to draw you in:


He even offers a suggestion on how much of it to take in supplemental form.

The second reference needs to be known by any expectant mothers who may be suffering from pronounced morning sickness ─ there is a specific medication that is best avoided if the baby's health matters more than the phony vaunted relief that the medication is supposed to yield:


I will also link to that article's reference, since the article itself did not:


As I mentioned earlier, my wife Jack is over in Thailand on a visit to see her mother ─ a seven-week holiday. I believe that her flight back to Canada is scheduled to leave on March 5, and probably extremely early in the morning.

I've been checking her Facebook account for any posts she makes each day, and this morning I located some further photos she took with her mobile phone and had uploaded.

These are the ones I selected and downloaded, and then doubled in size to suit my needs here.

The first two show her enjoying a meal and beer somewhere with her old friend Jak:

I like this backdrop that Jack found to pose before:

And the last photo that I bothered with was one of several taken of Jack posed with a swimming pool just beyond her:

Jack's home village is Nong Soong, which is approximately a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani. Thus, I would expect all photos to have been taken in that area.

I am closing today's post now with this old journal entry of mine from 41 years ago when I was 27 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting in a private home located on Ninth Street, and two houses up from Third Avenue.

I had not actually gotten back to my room until 7:45 a.m. that morning ─ I had  pretty much overnighted at the duplex unit that my brother Mark was renting a short distance along Semiahmoo Road from where it attaches to Old Yale Road in Surrey.

I had not been partying ─ in fact, Mark had spent the night at the residence of a new girlfriend of sorts that he was somewhat involved with. I had remained at his suite to watch T.V. and catch some sleep on a couch before walking back to my room.
SUNDAY, February 6, 1977

I arose at noon.

Today I shall mail a $10.95 money order to The Provoker in St. Catherines, Ontario, for a 2 year subscription, and the No Cookbook or whatever it is titled.

I'm going to return my 2 library books which I borrowed 24 days ago, having long ago given up on them as being too boring; (I browsed, but didn't borrow anew).


I'm leaving for Mark's at 2:30 p.m., intending to buy some newspapers along the way.
My next journal entry is for two days later, so obviously I did not return to my room until then. 

I probably don't have that book any longer ─ my life was too become very disorganized very soon back then, and I lost or otherwise parted with many books, periodicals, 8-tracks, vinyl albums, photos, and who-knows-what-else that I wish I had never relinquished. 

The two library books I returned probably would have gotten read if my life had not become so complicated since the previous Summer ─ a new girlfriend who seduced me into a short (three or so months) relationship, and then this almost daily trek back and forth to my younger brother Mark's duplex unit.

Had I remained as isolated as I had previously been, I undoubtedly would have found the time to be reading the books ─ whatever topics they involved.

John Tobe was a very influential source of health-related information for my mother and I. You can get a very small idea of who the man was through this old article of his ─ and the introduction given to the article ─ at RethinkingCancer.org: Enzymes: Nature's Metabolizers.

The newspapers I wrote that I was intending to buy would have been sought for their 'Help Wanted' ads, for I needed to provide eight job searches I had made ─ this was for Unemployment Insurances purposes, for I was at risk of being struck from those benefits. 

Back to the present just briefly, in the early latter afternoon I managed to find it within me to venture out to the backyard tool shed for some exercise there.

Then some time later as I worked upon this post, one of my stepsons arrived home, came directly upstairs here to the bathroom, and proceeded to make such a vile deposit that I caught inkling of it ere he had even exited the bathroom.

I should have taken the hint and shut the door here to the small bedroom where I have my computer, but I did not. And I paid the price when he did make that exist, hustled on downstairs, and then took off again.

The stench was utterly appalling ─ in anger I loudly slammed shut the door to this room.  

There is a toilet downstairs in the boys' den area, but they have always persisted in making a point of coming up here to relieve themselves ─ perhaps it has become a habit they developed partly to their own convenience, sparing themselves from having to be inhaling the aftermath of their toilet visitations.

Yet I am instead left to have my sensibilities overwhelmed and offended by this crudeness.

But what matter that to anyone, eh?

I sure get cranky when I do not sleep well.
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