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Monday, April 9, 2018

Dangers of a Gluten-Free Diet │ Antibiotics and Their Link to Heart Disease

For a change, last evening I tuned in two movies for my younger brother Mark and I to watch. He had gotten home from the bar unusually early ─ not quite 5:30 p.m.

The first movie was very interesting, but full of bloody violence, and its ending left Mark feeling outraged and unsettled ─ he even seriously censured me for inflicting the movie upon him: Oldboy.

I agree that its ending was disastrously disappointing ─ nothing about it was satisfying.

But I was impressed by actor Josh Brolin's physique. He had quite a paunch in the early part of the movie, even though he was clearly brawny. Yet he somehow seemed to lose his 'gut' and become markedly more narrow-waisted.

I found that to be somewhat curious.

The movie I next selected was also of an unhappy ending, but for a different reason. The World was ending ─ in fact, for the Australians where this movie was filmed, there were only about 12 hours left; and our main characters were just regular people who of course could not possibly have anything to do with potentially changing that fatal course: These Final Hours.

I found myself pondering how I would react with the end of all I knew so close to hand.

One plot element I found distasteful was when Rose, a young lass not yet a teen, chooses to remain with the body of her suicided father and await the end instead of going with the central character as he seeks to return to his pregnant girlfriend to die with her.

How could a young girl not become terrified once she was alone and her death so near, when all she had for comfort was the body of her dead father? It made no sense to me.

It was 12:02 a.m. by the time I was in bed.

I had said in yesterday's post that a light rain that had been falling since I first rose that day had managed to stop in the mid-or-so-afternoon. Well, it started again in the later afternoon and continue into the night.

It seems to have come to an end, however, for today has merely been cloudy, with even some sunshine breaks.

My first serious break in sleep overnight found me checking the time at 5:11 a.m. I was too tired to care to get up, so I tried to return to sleep. But when by 5:28 a.m. I was no nearer that sleep, I gave up and rose.

My eldest stepson Tho was not too much later in rising as he began preparing for work. His younger bother Poté had not been home last night when I went to bed, and I do not believe that he ever did come home ─ even though his car has been here.

He must have spent the night with his girlfriend and gone to work with her ─ they work at the same business.

I spent the early part of my morning supplying an average morning's worth of content to the new post I am developing at Thai-Iceland, one of my six hosted websites. That task was accomplished so early ─ before 8:00 a.m., and before Mark was yet up ─ that I could easily have doubled my effort.

But I had become very weary ─ my short night caught up to me unexpectedly soon. I think not having my usual morning's hot beverage had much to do with this flagging; and I was also feeling somewhat hungry.

But I went directly to bed to seek a nap.

It may have only been around 9:30 a.m. when I checked the time after coming out of whatever napping I enjoyed, and Mark was by then downstairs reading at the dining table.

My eyes still burned from inadequate sleep, and I had no interest in trying to do any website work. So I fixed up that hot beverage and tuned in some T.V. programming that Mark was clearly eager to become involved in.

We ended up watching an episode each of three series: PunisherRunaways; and The Shannara Chronicles.

I very much enjoy that latter series, but I detest the outrageously noisy soundtrack. The characters speak too softly for the intense volume of the sound effects and dramatic musical score; also, the characters' voices sound as if they are being muffled and at the same time echoed within some sort of chamber.

Shows like it are causing hearing damage. Viewers have to have the volume cranked up to try and catch most of what the characters are saying; but the sound effects make this listener in particular practically wince and even cringe.

After that third series, it was well into the noon-hour, and Mark was ready for his nap. By then I had eaten and had my second hot beverage, and I felt oddly able to tackle my session of exercising out in the backyard tool shed.

It wasn't an exceptional performance, though ─ just commonplace. However, my body-weight was at least 195 pounds, and maybe even 196 pounds. It is a strain hauling up that much poundage in performing the four sets of full-range pull-ups ─ especially at my age (I am 68 years old). 

There have been a few periods in my life when I have countenanced embarking upon a gluten-free diet, but I never quite committed to it.

I understand now that I was fortunate to have not chosen that path.

Here is a great article detailing why I say that: 


This was the reference at the base of the article that was not linked to:


We sure love polluting ourselves with no end of man-made chemicals that have absolutely no business existing.

Another item worth taking notice of is a study that has uncovered that extended use of antibiotics ─ even for just a couple of months ─ is linked to conditions such as heart disease.

Notice this report ─ and keep in mind that just because the subjects were older women, this does not imply that everyone else is thereby unaffected:


The report referenced an article that clearly exemplified the hedging being done to qualify and thus minimize the study's results:


It's a shame that researchers too often are afraid to staunchly stand behind the results of their studies, and instead make excuses for the results by implying that maybe there are extenuating circumstances that led to the study's findings.

Why not simply state that "the evidence is there that extended use of antibiotics is damaging to the heart"?


Why this need to defend the status quo if it is not out of the fear of peer backlash?

Let's move on to some photos now ─ more taken earlier this year when my wife Jack took an extended holiday back to Thailand in order to visit her mother.

An early portion of that holiday saw her take five family members on a flight to Bali for the purpose of reuniting with my two stepsons ─ the boys each had booked two weeks off work.

The last time everyone had been together was back in 2009.

The first half-dozen photos are some street scenes that were taken by my wife Jack's nephew Mark on January 27, 2018:

And this is photographer Mark's wife, Kæ̂m or Gâaem:

Google created this montage of three of the Bali photos ─ my youngest stepson Poté is wearing the striped top and his brawny older brother Tho is in the tank top; their mother Jack is wearing the hat in the first photo in the montage:

The Bali holiday was too short, I am sure. My stepsons came back home here to Canada, and their mother returned to Thailand to continue her visit with family and friends there.

Photographer Mark was to be busy again ─ his older sister was to marry on February 25 (2018).

Here are a couple photos of her on that day getting some makeup touching-up:

And I am going to call a halt with those. I am feeling in need of a lie-down (it is 3:52 p.m.).

Well, that helped a little, although my eyes still do burn a little, and now I feel somewhat dopey at 5:10 p.m.

My wife Jack will most likely be home late this evening if she has worked the day in Langley at her friend Fanta's Thai restaurant. I am not going to allow her presence to keep me up over-late tonight if she has the inclination to be sitting up.

Right now, though, I am going to bring today's post to a close 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 the little dungeon in a private home located on Ninth Street [Google map], and two houses up from Third Avenue.

I see that I planned hiking in the afternoon out to my younger brother Mark's duplex unit in Surrey ─ he was living a fairly short distance down Semiahmoo Road [Google map] from where it detached from Old Yale Road.
SATURDAY, April 9, 1977

I arose after 7:00 a.m.; it's pouring outside.

It sure is satisfying knowing I have willingly withheld from alimenta since about 2:15 a.m. yesterday.

I finished Andre Norton's The X Factor.

The place is cold; the landlady is away, so there's been no heat since I got here last night.

I had no enthusiasm for my workout, probably due to my diet recently.

The small of my back has been bothering me the past couple days.

I'm leaving for Mark's about 3:30 p.m., as I want to view Conquest of the Planet of the Apes tonight at, I think, 11:40 p.m.

Due to the facts that is is predicted to rain tomorrow morn, and that my left big toe could use the rest, I am going to forgo a run I thought I might indulge in prior to dawn.


(The movie was scheduled for 12:10 a.m.)

After Mark left for the evening for Al's, I got a short nap.

[Possibly Mark went to visit Al Varga ─ Al and his wife Marie had an apartment in New Westminster that may have been less than a couple of blocks from my room.]

He'd been to mom's today, and said a dinner for the family was on for tomorrow between 2:00 p.m. - 3:00 p.m.

Bill's call confirmed Mark's news that some of Nell's bunch had gone to the U.S. for the weekend, plus the extra that Bruce & Donna were at Lil & Spud's.

[William Alan Gill was an old friend of mine. "Nell's bunch" were the family and friends of my maternal Aunt Nell Halverson. Bruce was one of her sons, and had only married Donna in December. Lil was Donna's mother, who was living with her boyfriend, Spud.]

Not much before midnight a vehicle turning from Old Yale onto Semiahmoo struck a parked vehicle, I guess; it attracted lots of local attention, including the youngest kid upstairs. Seeing I was in, he requested to join me for the movie. But he wasn't entirely unbearable.

I had decided to come home (it hasn't rained since this morning) in case I'm able to jog after a brief night's sleep, so I left Mark's before 2:00 a.m.

Bed 3:20 a.m.

I supped satisfyingly on biscuits (& peanut butter) I made, using a baking method I gleaned from last night's special on holy week for the Copts in Egypt. I don't know why it never occur to me before that a type of pan bread could be baked without oil by merely using a base of flour. 
I have no memory of who may have been living in the other half of the duplex Mark was renting. However, I was a rather reclusive sort, so I would not have normally appreciated being subjected to the company of relative strange young teens ─ or however old the young fellow was who came calling.

I had successfully undergone a fast of over a full day for the very first time, consuming only water and nothing else.

I have no idea now where I got the sense of using alimenta to signify food. Obviously I had come across somewhere that since alimentum was Latin for nourishment or nutriment ─ and even food, provisions, and aliment ─ then perhaps a plural from was alimenta and thus equally acceptable.

A little research just now finds this statement:
In the Jurists alimenta are all things which pertain to the sustenance of life.
That statement is under the definition for alimentum in a formidable tome titled A copious and critical Latin-English lexicon, founded on the larger Latin-German lexicon of Dr. William Freund: with additions and corrections from the lexicons of Gesner, Facciolati, Scheller, Georges, etc published in 1850. 

See Archive.org here ─ the darned thing has 1,704 pages! I would love to won a copy!

I had quite an interest in words back then, and read fairly broadly despite having dropped out of Grade XII.
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