Our Christmas Lights Are Up!

Not more than five minutes ago ─ or around 5:30 p.m. ─ my wife and two stepsons left for a supper somewhere in recognition of the youngest lad's 23rd birthday six days ago.

My wife invited me. However, she did so around 3:00 p.m. while I was having my first meal of the day. I'm 71 years old ─ I cannot have an actual restaurant meal following so close upon the heels of a previous meal. I needed to know about this well before; but as so often happens, I only learn of it before I can prepare ahead for the outing.

And so I had to decline.

My wife knows that I am like this, yet it still never occurred to her to give me the 'heads up' whenever it was that the three were making this planned outing. Really, I am an afterthought, I suppose; I oughtn't to feel any guilt for the declination, but there is some anyway.

Not a half hour before they left, I finally finished getting our Christmas lights set up. We have outdoor lights that are kept up year round, but others are not stationed such that this is possible. Thus, each year they must be taken down; and then the setup happens all over again the following year, as it did this afternoon.

My younger brother is Grinch-like, so my concession to him is that I don't light us up until December 1st, and that is why I got busy with the activity this afternoon. My youngest stepson had been out, and came back home near the end of my chore, so he lent a hand for a time. While doing so, he asked if I was coming with them for that meal, so I explained why I was not.

I think they have 6 p.m. reservations, and he cited that time as a potential opening for me where concerned my appetite, but I stressed that I wasn't his brawny older brother who dines numerous times a day to maintain a high count of total daily protein grammes.

I only have two meals a day, and my next one will not be until after 7 p.m. ─ but it will be very nominal. It won't be much more than a snack.

I have to drop this topic ─ it keeps my sense of guilt active.

I will be getting to bed early this evening, so I will possibly be rising during the midnight hour or soon thereafter. The weest a.m. is when I usually manage to accomplish most of the work that I get done here at my computer. This is going to be my first opportunity to light us up ─ even though no one else may be up from bed to witness it all.

When I rose in the early a.m. last night, I never did get a chance to work on any of my projects. I owed a response to an E-mail from a chap with whom I have been sharing E-mail discussions of our mutual appreciation that there is no COVID-19 pandemic, and all of the restrictions such as lockdowns and mandated face masks have more sinister implications that have nothing whatsoever to do with a fictionally rampant virus.      

That response of mine took me around two hours. And because I owed a former co-worker a reply on an entirely different set of topics, I lost another hour or so. It was at least 4:30 a.m. when I got back to bed ─ it may even have been after 5 a.m., now that I consider it. Yet by 8 a.m., I was again awake and anxious to get up to at least get a little done of what I had meant to do overnight.

My younger brother was not yet up, be he soon enough was. I had a video that I wanted to watch with him soon after 10 a.m.

However, before I get into that, I want to mention that last evening he arrived home barely after 7 p.m. from wherever he had been drinking. I was watching an episode of one of the T.V. series I follow, and normally I would have cancelled out of the programme and escaped to the upstairs to avoid him.

But it was sufficiently early last evening ─ too early for me to be going to bed ─ that I decided to chance his condition and perhaps watch at least a couple episodes of T.V. series we follow in common.

When my show ended, we watched some NFL football for a bit. He helped himself to some of my wife's cooking, and then he invited me to tune in something else to watch (I am the only one of us who knows how to operate our Android TV Box).

I have grown to not trust my brother's ability to retain his senses anymore when it comes to watching our shows in the evening, and it is primarily because I now avoid his company that I retire early.

And so as I said, I decided to gamble on him. Not too much after 8 p.m., I tuned in an episode of one of our shows.

What do you think happened? Why, not five minutes into the show, his eyes were already closed and his chin dropping. 

Fed up, but in control of myself, I backed out of the episode, which roused him once more. But I forestalled any word from him by just calmly saying, "We'll watch this some other time."

He knew he had been found out. And what he had gone and done is reinforce the practice now that is becoming my evening norm ─ avoid any attempt to watch T.V. with him. Instead, he is best left to sit and drink by himself as he watches whatever he wants all alone.

It is his choice to drink himself to the point where he can no longer retain a grasp upon full consciousness. I have no reason to feel guilt, yet quite often some twinges of it are there.

Anyway, back to this morning. The video I wanted us to watch was a Corbett Report titled Your Guide to the Great Reset.

It was around 70 minutes in length; but although my brother did patiently watch it for nigh an hour, by then he could not help but ask how much longer it was. His interest had been played out.

To be honest, mine pretty much had, too. The presentation seemed too much of the same thing ─ just rephrased. Make no mistake ─ I'm a believer. But this specific episode never really flew very far.

I just hope my brother hasn't started feeling negative about this sort of fare ─ I am planning on tuning in this material quite regularly in the latter mornings during the workweek.

The hour of 7 p.m. is here, and my wife and her two sons could be returning at any point. I would like to have that snack of a supper all set to go and maybe even eaten before the diners arrive back here, so I am going to close shop here for this post.

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My First Time Wearing a Face Mask

My younger brother spent last night at the home of his girlfriend Bev, so I was able to watch a Christmas movie very early in that evening.

I almost did not choose to watch the movie that I selected because I am too familiar with the T.V. series (Good Witch). I like the T.V. series, but have only followed it for maybe the past two seasons. I did not realize that the fairly long-running series was preceded by a total of seven movies ─ that's quite a history!

Maybe I'll get around to trying to watch all of the movies, and then get into the series from its inception.

However, the movie I watched last evening was 2010's The Good Witch's Gift. My main concern was that because I was so familiar with its characters, it wouldn't have the same impact that a typical Christmas movie would for me.

The assumption was incorrect. In fact, I plan to rewatch it if my brother brings Bev here for a couple of days right around Christmas as he has been doing for several years now ─ last year was the exception, for Bev had to work on Boxing Day and thus preferred not to come here and risk having a bad hangover.

As for the movie, I only recognized two of the regulars from the series ─ the title character herself (played by Catherine Bell), and the busybody mayor (played by Catherine Disher) who always ends up doing 'the right thing'. So it was almost like watching a Christmas movie unrelated to the T.V. series.

Good Witch Cassandra "Cassie" Nightingale got married at the end of the movie ─ to the Chief of Police, someone who does not exist in the series. In fact, "Cassie" marries Dr. Sam Radford early into season five of the series.

Consequently, I would like to come to learn what happened to the various characters in the movie. Maybe some are still around, but new actors are portraying them and thus I did not see the current actors' familiar faces in the movie (I am quite bad at remembering the names of characters, so that is seldom much help for me).

The movie featured a character named Betty who ran a bakery. She was commonplace-looking enough, but she got all dolled up and was absolutely gorgeous! The actress playing Betty was Laura Bertram. Alas, her character no longer exists in the series, either ─ I would have liked to have seen much more of her.    

Yes, I really do feel that I must now watch all of the other movies, and then start watching the series from its beginning. Incidentally, Catherine Bell turned 52 years of age this year, according to Wikipedia ─ I don't think I quite expected her to have achieved that distinction as yet. She looks younger.

I had a can of strong (8% alcohol) beer during the movie, and a good shot of amber or golden rum.

If I am remembering correctly, I had become so weary that by 8:30 p.m. I was to bed. And I think that I remained there until around 2 a.m. before rising to come here to my computer to accomplish a few things.

I had plans to go grocery shopping very early in the morning ─ it would be a round trip of at least 5.625 miles. But I felt myself to be coming down with symptoms of a cold; and by 4 a.m. I had declined drastically.

Nonetheless, I set my cellphone's alarm for 5:30 a.m. and sought some bed rest, hoping that I would recover sufficiently to be up to making that hike. I would need to leave here very soon after 6 a.m., or else the trip would need to be scotched. I cannot bear being out in the busy day.

Well, when my alarm sounded, I could barely believe that so much time had passed. If instead I had checked the time and seen that I had another hour to go, I would have believed it.

I was still feeling ill-rested and below par. I wanted to submit myself to 15 minutes of nebulized hydrogen peroxide therapy (I have quite a good plug-in nebulizer). I only have access to common 3% over-the-counter hydrogen peroxide, for as yet I have been unable to afford to order any food grade hydrogen peroxide. But since I do not undergo the treatment with any regularity, I am hoping that I am getting away unscathed where any undesirable 'extras' in the commercial product are concerned.

I must say, the 15 minutes truly did seem to help me. Unfortunately, though, once I was done, I needed a cup of hot instant coffee to help me normalize, but by then it was already too late to be able to make my getaway to the remote store.

And so I settled on visiting Save-On-Foods (Google Map) maybe 1¼ - 1½ miles from here. I would not have to leave until well after 6:30 a.m. ─ and in fact, it was 6:49 a.m. by the time I was on my way.

I know that face masks are a farce, and all of the political and health authourities who have them mandated ought to be severely prosecuted for the lockdowns and everything else associated with this non-existent SARS-CoV-2 pandemic.

However, this morning for the very first time, I decided to take a face mask and wear it instead of struggling with a bandana. Bandanas require such tight knotting at the back of my head to limit slippage on my face that they compress my nose add drastically impede my breathing. Whereas a face mask is such a slight affair, it's presence is barely felt.

So this was the first time that I used one. By the time I got to the store and put the mask on, I was breathing quite heavily; and in the store, I was as often as not breathing through my open mouth because I was not getting sufficient air through my nostrils.

And my mask was not even snug!

I could never wear one all day ─ not without health consequences. There is no question in my mind that people using them for extended periods are harming themselves. There is not enough oxygen getting through. No one should need to be breathing through an open mouth like I found myself doing in that store after walking there.

Anyway, I got my shopping done, and was back home before either of my two stepsons were up, nor my brother home. He was to show up well ahead of 10 a.m. ─ and went directly to his bedroom and bed.

I may have returned to my own bed by 10 a.m., or soon enough thereafter. And to my surprise, not only did I get further sleep, but it was noon before I made a check of the time. I was so loath to rise that I just lay there for maybe 15 - 20 minutes, sometimes semi-conscious.

My brother was still in his own bedroom, but he soon enough emerged. Notwithstanding, it is possibly that he had risen earlier and then returned to bed again. He was to almost straightaway ready himself and ─ late in the noon hour ─ leave for the afternoon.

I have resisted any further napping, despite my day's first meal (a burden that usually causes me to seek a nap). And at present, it is approaching 6 p.m. Since I have a session of some exercise I want to engage, I am going to bring this post to a close. 

I will be getting to bed early this evening, regardless of when my brother returns from wherever he is presently drinking. 

I want to conclude with the observation that I truly do believe that it is possible that my hydrogen peroxide treatment may have disabled whatever virus it was that was giving me those early cold symptoms. I have felt decent all the day through.

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Just Getting By

Just as I finished publishing yesterday's post in this blog very little ahead of 8 p.m., I was about to go downstairs to quickly round up a small supper to dig into, and then be set to escape back upstairs as soon as I noticed my younger brother arriving home from wherever he had been drinking, when I heard him come into the house.

I was too late. I would be having just one meal that day ─ that of the mid-afternoon. And a late afternoon / early evening delicious hot caffeinated beverage that I had enjoyed was going to have to tide me over until this afternoon ─ for since beginning a regimen of intermittent fasting in the Summer, I take in no calories until after the midway point of the noon hour of any given day.

I was in bed at 8 p.m., but feeling so hard done-by in life where God is concerned that tears of loneliness and anguish flowed copiously.

However, I do not wish here to derail this post's proper narrative into that area of my life, so I will only say that it took a while to settle down so as to eventually submit myself into any sleep.

I would be rising in the early a.m. to come here to my computer to deal with a few tasks, so I was faced with spending something over four hours in bed ─ my brother generally watches T.V. until midnight.

I slept a little, and I recall checking the time around 10 p.m. and feeling somewhat satisfied that I was half way to my targetted hour. By this point, my emotions had stabilized and I was my normal self.

I continued seeking sleep, and resisted checking the time further until quite early into the midnight hour. I had just turned myself over in an effort to seek a more comfortable position to court some more sleep when the curiosity on the time had me check.

It was late enough ─ I could rise. Nevertheless, as I dressed, I heard my brother still downstairs, but readying to come up and to his bedroom. And when he did, I quietly exited my own bedroom. At least one of my two stepsons was still up ─ the eldest. He seems to commonly avail himself of the dining table once my brother goes to bed; the lad will sit there for a final pre-bedtime meal while he watches a movie or something on a laptop.

The night outside was quite wet, for I think that it lightly rained betimes.

I nursed the hope of getting out in the morning before my brother was up for the day ─ I wanted to visit the nearest government liquor store two miles from here which opens at 9:30 a.m. Since I do not drive, I would be walking.

Anyway, I would not have much hope of undertaking that chore without some further sleep, so around 3:30 a.m. or soon after I returned to bed, and I remained there until maybe 7 a.m. (again, "or soon thereafter").

I wanted to have an early bath. By this time, my youngest stepson was up ─ he would have to head off for work before mid-morning.

I had my bath, and then began whiling away some time. After all, I would not want to arrive too early to the liquor store and have to stand about outside like an anxious alcoholic.

The lying and misguided provincial political and health authourities recently mandated that the public have to wear face coverings whenever they enter places of business and even malls and shopping centres. I have thus far refused to even try a face mask on, and have only once worn a bandana like some old-time bandit.

But when I donned that specific accoutrement last Sunday to enter a major grocery store, it was only around 7 a.m. and thus still reasonably dark with few people about to witness me pulling the bandana up from my neck and setting it to best effect for venturing into the store.

This time, the day would be already busy, and on a Saturday there would be more people about than might have been so on a Sunday.

I had learned during that Sunday grocery shopping experience that a bandana is troublesome worn as I had mine. It kept working its way down my nose; and it drastically blocked my ability to see downward. I even found that my eyes were feeling strained.

So this morning I got busy trying to devise some better methodology.

And time began wearing away. Before I knew it, the time was already after 9:30 a.m. and my brother had been up for some while. It had become too late for me to make the trip, but I had persevered in trying to figure out how best to fit a bandana.  

I had resorted to a different cloth ─ one that I had bought back in the 1990s that was designed (cut) to be used as a head wrap and knotted at the back of the skull.

This piece is slightly longer and made of absorbent cotton, and has some stretch to it that is lacking with the acetate or whatever constitutes my bandana.

So I think that I can make it work. Even so, I still do not care to be standing around in the broad day setting it into place. Compounding that discomfort is the fact that the day became remarkably sunny ─ at this time of year, I prefer as much gloom out there as possible when I must be abroad.

Fortunately, the liquor store's offerings are not something I immediately require. I just wanted to be done with the jaunt while I am still newly into my recently received monthly pension income.   

All of the bother I put myself through this morning with the various fittings of the two types of bandanas actually strained my unwell eyes; and so at around 10:30 a.m., I returned to bed. This would also serve the purpose of helping with ushering along the passage of some time, for I was becoming most uncomfortably hungry.  

I did nap, but when I was awake again and checking the time, it was only around 11:30 a.m. My intermittent fast had at least another hour to go.

As it was to turn out, I got myself involved in working on the post I am creating at one of my two hosted websites, and thus it was well past 1 p.m. before I finally went downstairs to make my day's first delicious hot caffeinated beverage ─ a sustaining treat that can comfortably forestall the need for a meal by a couple or more hours. 

I was not to have an actual meal until around 3:30 p.m., by which time I had performed the day's minimum quota of exercise.

I should mention that my brother never did seek a nap today before heading out in the early afternoon, indicating that on his list of intended pursuits was a good walk somewhere to benefit from the unexpected sunshine. No such clemency was presented during the past week. 

I never know if he will be home Saturday evenings, for he often remains with his girlfriend Bev and spends the night at her home. He may be doing so more regularly of late now that he likely realizes that he will only be coming home to drink and watch T.V. alone. I just cannot expect him to retain full consciousness any longer, so I do not place myself in a position wherein I will have to gamble on his state ─ I avoid him and have myself an early evening of it.

It is preferred over having to re-watch episodes of our T.V. shows that I have had to cancel out of because his brain folded up from drink and fatigue. I simply decided that I would not be doing that ever again ─ I have grown so fed up wasting my time re-watching shows for his benefit because he was unable to attend them all the way through the first time around. 

Sometimes, though, I feel considerable guilt. He is 68 years old, and I am 71. We will not have one another's company for too many more years, I expect. Notwithstanding, it is he who chooses to become a daily drunkard. If he truly did wish to spend time with his elder brother, then all he need do is simply refrain from going out every afternoon to become drunk all over again.

His drinking buddies are more valued as company than am I.

At present as I type these words it is not yet 5 p.m., and I could benefit from another short nap. However, I will withhold, and perhaps tune in a Christmas movie and enjoy a can of strong (8% alcohol) beer or two.  

By not napping this late into my afternoon, I ought to be able to more easily sleep once I get to bed early this evening. Very early tomorrow morning, I hope to undertake the (minimum) 5.625-mile round trip hike to do some grocery shopping ─ the store opens at 7 a.m., so I try to do my best to arrive as soon thereafter as I can.

I wish I had a real life, though. And friends ─ even just one near by to me. Heck, maybe even some easygoing female companionship ─ someone who actually enjoys having my company, and who maybe wants to be close with me physically. 

I sure miss that ─ actual physical connection. Touching. Just close, physical proximity.

My wife is no longer interested in anything like that with me, and doesn't even spend her weekends at home. We haven't even shared a goodbye kiss in over a year. And physical intimacy? It's been over 7½ years.

Is it any wonder I become emotional and lonely in my pathetic old age when I retire to my bed all by myself? Or that I often start blubbering like an emotional wreck when I watch Christmas movies with a beer or two under my belt?

The course of my life is playing out, as far as I can tell. There is nothing more to live for, except my sense of responsibility to my wife and even to her two adult sons who still live here.

But enough of that ─ I haven't yet had a beer! I am going to close out of this post and do some research for a movie that I will watch downstairs on the T.V. via our Android TV Box and the 'apps' I have downloaded into it. They can't find every movie I may seek, but they are nonetheless a magnificent service for home entertainment.

May tomorrow be full and successful.

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Not Much About Anything

Although I was to bed last evening by 8:45 p.m., it was only because my younger brother had shown up just a few minutes before (from wherever he had been drinking). I shun his company in the evenings rather than attempt to watch any T.V. with him ─ he has seemingly lost the capacity to retain consciousness throughout the evening due to his excessive consumption of beer.

Fortunately, I had just finished watching the second season finale of Magnum P.I. 

I do enjoy that series, but I probably would not be a regular viewer if Perdita Weeks was not a prominent regular as the character Higgins. That young woman seems to me to be in exceptional physical condition, and I quite marvel at her.

She even runs like someone who understands how to effectively do so ─ I honestly thrill to visions of the young lass's prowess.

And her eyes ─ as I have previously written ─ remind me of those of a young woman named Jean Cooper whom I knew at least as far back as 1978 until the earliest 1980s. I was addictively consumed by my attraction to poor Jean.

But that is a story dealt with in my private blog.

I don't much cotton to series remakes, so this version of Thomas Magnum probably would be insufficient to have gotten me to stick with the series ─ I was a huge fan of Tom Selleck's original Thomas Magnum. Frankly, he was irreplaceable.

In a similar vein, Hawaii Five-0 just doesn't interest me. I've tried to watch it during its first season, but the two main characters simply do not work for me in their reincarnations. The original series was too unique and good.  

Gosh, I just now read that the original series (Hawaii Five-O) used a letter "O" in its title, whereas the remake used a "0". Didn't know that.

I never liked the original MacGyver, so I haven't had the remotest interest in seeing the remake.

I cite these three specific series because they are all related products that have had crossover episodes.

Anyway, I had quite a rush last evening to vacate the living room and get upstairs ahead of my brother's entrance into the house, but the point is that I succeeded and was to bed earlier than planned.

However, because I knew that I would be rising early into the a.m. to come here and work on a few things, and because I was expecting my wife home at some point, I retired in my jeans. I never do manage to log in all that much sleep when I retire early like that with the intention of rising later, and last night was no different.  

It was during the midnight hour when I roused sufficiently to realize the time; and it was just then that my wife entered the bedroom to begin readying for bed, for she was to have to work today at her friend's Thai restaurant. Her shift doesn't start until 11 a.m., but she does not often sleep well; and last afternoon she had enjoyed a very extended nap.

As it was to prove, she did indeed rise a few times overnight while I was up ─ the poor thing. I know she works hard, so I very much do wish that she had an easier time of sleeping in the night.

I think that I was back to bed by maybe 4:30 a.m. ─ I had been up approximately four hours. Yet after taking some while to finally find sleep again, by 8 a.m. I found myself awake enough again to be monitoring the time. I doubt that it was much after 8:30 a.m. when I rose for the morning. My wife rose less than an hour after I had.

I really only have two more topics I care to write about today. 

First, I confess to squandering my afternoon in dissolute occupation, denying myself the time to engage the exercising I should have challenged myself with today. I barely managed to pull myself free from the sapping involvement before the usual consequences of crushing regret.

By then, I needed to rest my burnt-out eyes even though it was already after 5 p.m., so I sought a very brief nap. I had to have it ─ my eyes are declining dreadfully as I age. And the hours I spend daily at this computer monitor are punishingly harmful.   

The second topic concerns the heavy whipping cream that I go to great pains to keep myself supplied with for my two (usually) daily hot caffeinated beverages. 

I do not drive, so I have to walk to make personal purchases such as I must do for my litres of heavy cream. 

Well, yesterday the carton I had been using seemed to suddenly be much emptier than it should have been. I normally get just over a week from a carton, and this one was already unexpectedly low.

This morning, the situation was even worse. There was only enough cream for a single use ─ someone is indeed helping themselves to my cream. I know that it is one of my two adult stepsons.

Both of them drive ─ they can easily buy their own cream if they so desire. The carton I was using was  'hard won' ─ that is, it was part of some groceries that I bought this past early Sunday morning when I made a round trip hike of at least 5.625 miles to purchase those items and bear them all the way back home.

And now one of my two stepsons is taking it upon himself to start using my personal cream supply when he can easily drive and keep himself supplied with the relatively expensive commodity. It is no easy matter for me to keep myself in stock with the cream.

I find myself feeling resentful.

I had bought two litres of the cream last Sunday, thinking that I would not have to return to that distant store for two weeks; but now I am already into the backup carton of cream, and it will not hold me over until Sunday of next weekend.

In other words, I will have to make an uplanned hike back to the store this weekend, or risk not having cream by late in the coming week. 

I can no longer keep my cream in the fridge, either. Perhaps that is manageable at this time of year ─ I can keep an open carton on the sill of my open bedroom window here upstairs. It is unlikely to spoil in a mere week.

This makes me feel petty, however. But my delicious hot caffeinated beverages are one of my few true enjoyments in my marginal existence, and the cream is indispensable in their preparation.   

I must stop ─ it is approaching 8 p.m. I have to have a fast small supper and be set to get to bed when I notice my brother arriving home. My wife will not likely be back home until after the weekend (she tends to stay somewhere in Vancouver on her weekends ─ such is our sorry marriage).

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Fall of the Cabal

I shall not be overlong with today's post, for my evening is upon me already, and I do not believe that my wife has had to work today. She had gone off somewhere mid-afternoon, and eventually I sought a needed nap. During that time, she did return, and thrice entered the bedroom just briefly. However, when I finally rose from my rest, she was no longer here ─ only her eldest son seemed present.

So she may show up at any point hereafter.

It has been quite a rainy day.

My main purpose in posting at all today is to record having watched a nigh three-hour documentary this morning with my younger brother ─ I tuned it in via our Android TV Box just after 10 a.m. 

The documentary was produced by a Dutch woman named Janet Ossebaard, and is (possibly variously) titled Fall of the Cabal ─ I believe that my brother and I watched it via this BitChute.com link.

About five minutes into it, I was ready to cancel out of it, and indicated so by saying to my brother something like, "I think I've seen about enough." 

However, he remained silent ─ I took that as his vote to keep it playing for the present. He has more tolerance for material like this.

It bothers me that the documentary seems to have been released early this year, yet not a mention is made of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic.

As well, Janet is convinced that President Donald Trump is going to save the world from "the Cabal" or "Illuminati" because he-and-his are in fact the mysterious "Q" behind the movement and group known as QAnon.

Considering that the unfortunate guy is about to be ousted from office now by Biden, this doesn't really seem very likely. I wish that I had known where the documentary was headed ─ I would not have bothered tuning it in.

Even my brother had to offer that the documentary had become "far-fetched" in its later stages, railing on and on about all of the ritualistic child-murdering that is happening all around the world by Satanists in royalty, Hollywood, the Vatican, and even by powerful political and military figures.

All-wise Donald Trump, fortunately, is poised to bring down all of these Satanists, and has been subtly presenting visual cues to his devoted followers to keep them encouraged.

What a shame. 

Perhaps it was for the best that the documentary did not involve the pandemic, for including that false threat under the umbrella of activities that "the Cabal" or the "Illuminati" have orchestrated would only make those of us who do indeed know that the pandemic is a manufactured falsehood exaggerated beyond belief, seem all the more like the utter ignorant nutters that the perpetrators of the hoax have us categorized as.

I have nothing else that I feel the need to report about today.

The COVID-19 False Pandemic: Crimes Against Humanity

I suppose that my wife left last afternoon to work the latter part of the day at the Thai restaurant that employs her. I retired ahead of 9 p.m. when I heard my younger brother newly arrived home and putting the wheelie bins out at curbside for today's pick up. 

My wife was not yet home. And after I eventually managed some sleep, it was around 12:44 a.m. when I was awake enough to be curious upon the time, and so I then rose ─ as ever, I would anon be at work here at my computer involving myself in several pursuits. My wife was home, but apparently had resisted coming into the bedroom and potentially disturbing my sleep.

My involvements overnight consumed more time than I intended, and so it was at least 5:15 a.m. before I was back into bed.

Yesterday I wrote that it can be quite pleasant having my wife home, but today that appreciation wore thin. I will explain very shortly.

First though, I want to mention joining my brother at the T.V. just after 10 a.m. this morning, and soon putting our Android TV Box into action, leading off with an early-November interview I had lined up for us to get around to watching.

The interview is available on YouTube, but that platform is draconian with censorship and might delete the copy my brother and I watched, so I will link to one at BitChute ─ there are other copies available there, but this copy should endure: Dr. Reiner Fuellmich: Crimes Against Humanity.   

I hope that this worthy lawyer and all of the others involved in similar planned legal actions manage to start throwing back the tyranny of the lying health authourities who continually impose their will over us by perpetuating the false COVID-19 pandemic. People like B.C.'s foul provincial health officer Bonnie Henry and her federal counterpart Theresa Tam have to be stopped ─ and I hope, rigidly punished for their parts in this horrendous life-ruining worldwide hoax.

Now returning to my wife, she was soon to rise because she had an 11:40 a.m. medical appointment, so she left here around 11:20 a.m. on her drive to keep it.

She was back home near the expiration of the noon hour and was soon preparing herself her breakfast. At the time, it occurred to me that I should retrieve the nutritional supplements that I would be taking with my day's first repast, but I decided to postpone the bother since I was not yet set to eat anything ─ I had a little exercise I wanted to clear away first out in the backyard toolshed.

That failure to access my supplements proved a mistake.

Before I knew it, my wife returned to bed, effectively barring me from access to my supplements ─ I keep them in the bedroom.

Time passed. I couldn't even nap, and I wanted one.

My brother left afoot before mid-afternoon to catch a bus in order to rendezvous with a couple of drinking buddies at a tavern, so I was able to resort to his bed, lying fully clothed with a light comforter pulled over me.

I did not nap anywhere near as well as I would have in my own bed, but it served.

Yet my wife was still shut up in our bedroom.

I finally had to break down and fetch myself a hunk of old cheddar cheese, and a small raw carrot and apple as my sole first meal of the day.

She never emerged from our bedroom until maybe 4:30 p.m., if not later. Her presence here this afternoon had cost me my full scheduled roster of exercising, and it was looking as if I was not going to be posting here in this blog, either.

However, she quickly got ready and at 5 p.m. or so she left us ("us" being her two adult sons and I). I don't know where she went, but I suspect that she will likely not be home again too early this evening. For all I know, she may have gone to work again.

It is not easy for me to find the drive to exercise anymore. I am 71 years old, and the sessions I engage which I deem to be important are definitely strenuous. Thus, I must feel rested; and I also need to tackle them before I have eaten an incapacitating meal, but before I have grown so darned hungry that I have no energetic resources with which to inspire exercise.    

The full availability of my afternoons are definitely crucial on all counts, so having my wife home and not away to work can be effectively crippling of my routine. In addition, I cannot exercise without full privacy.

Only some of my exercising can be done out in that toolshed. Other exercises are performed here in the house, for some require me to strip right down to my undershorts in order to apply blood flow restriction bands.

I cannot exercise once I have eaten ─ meals oppress me, and my day's first meal almost always requires me to seek a nap in the afternoon. I practice intermittent fasting, and do not even take in any calories whatsoever until after midway through the noon hour.

That point in time is when I will have my day's first delicious hot caffeinated beverage, a concoction that is extremely sustaining and forestalls the need for an actual meal for another couple or so hours, giving me the time to start exercising.

But if I am unable to tackle any exercise in that first couple or so hours after that beverage has been enjoyed, I will need to have my day's first meal and seek a nap, for I always need one due to having sat up for most of the night's a.m. hours.

I do love my wife, and she can be a pleasant presence indeed. However, she spends her weekends somewhere in Vancouver (such is our sorry marriage), and I am not often privy to any degree in her comings and goings when she is home during the week (which is primarily because we are so very much nearer to the restaurant where she works part-time).

So this afternoon's experience became an imposition as far as I was concerned ─ one entirely for her personal convenience. For all I know, she slept away the afternoon in order to make possible a long evening of 'night owling'. (A peril of having a far younger wife.)

I do not like the trend this post has taken ─ it is best that I abandon any further record for today.

Well ... she has just arrived back home at 6:40 p.m. 

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A Brief Thought or Two on "The Shape of Water"

This will be short. With my wife home until at least 3:45 p.m. this afternoon, I have had no spare time for blogging here.

The only purpose I have for a post today is to record the fact that shortly after 10 a.m. this morning, I used our Android TV Box and tuned in the 2017 movie The Shape of Water for my younger brother and I to watch.

He deemed it to be an imposition, however, for he had been given a report by a couple of his drinking buddies who both declared it to be unworthy of bothering with. They were both supremely disappointed with it.

And thus he bemoaned my determination to seek a source for it anyway.

Granted, anyone who had expected to be watching a bona fide science fiction movie would certainly have found it to be otherwise; it was in fact a fantasy.

Nevertheless, I know that my brother became invested in the story, and he watched it with considerable interest after he was deep into it.

Actress Sally Hawkins did a superb job of portraying a mute janitress at a research facility, and it was impossible for us not to feel great sympathy for her plight as a reclusive and plain-looking lonely woman into her middle years who had probably never before experienced physical love. 

Yes, the plot had its gaping improbabilities, but it was notwithstanding an arresting "Beauty and the Beast" sort of fable in modern ─ well, early 1960s ─ guise.

And as a heartless and relentless villain, actor Michael Shannon's portrayal as such was superb. He became the monster of the movie. However, it was entirely ignored that in seeing him die at the movie's conclusion, he would have left behind a wife, and a young son and daughter.

I wonder how many viewers spared them any thoughts after being gratified by the despatching of the malevolent rotter by the creature he had so ardently sought to destroy?

But enough ─ I must seek a bath, for it is nearing 7:30 p.m. and I have not even nominally supped as yet.

Last evening around 7 p.m. I was not yet 10 minutes into the 2010 Hallmark movie A Family Thanksgiving when I saw my younger brother arriving home from wherever he had been drinking. 

This was almost unbelievable that he would be home so early, and it was particularly annoying because I was well into a can of the strong (8% alcohol) beer that I try to keep in supply. Not only was I going to have to turn off the movie and the T.V. and escape to the upstairs in order to avoid involvement with my brother, but I had wasted a beer ─ I only drink while enjoying Christmas movies or else some especially good T.V. entertainment.

But then I decided to just watch the movie here on my computer, and I found a good-quality source for it on YouTube. I wasn't particularly enjoying sitting ─ my butt suffers from too much of that; so I rose, pulled this room's door to, and I turned off the light so as to best enjoy the feature in the dark.

And enjoy it I did! That first beer led to a second, and eventually even a third. And because the movie evoked such emotion and personal recollections of a deeply personal nature, I was often openly crying in my heartache.

I don't recall when I got to bed, but I know that it was ahead of 10 p.m. However, the beer ─ equivalent to having nearly five cans of beer with a 5% alcohol potency ─ did not assist an easy passage into sleep. As well, I was still rather emotional, if quite drained by then.

Alas, when sleep did come, I soon found myself to be into a hangover, for I am unaccustomed to drinking. Memory now fails me as to when it was that I rose to perform some work here at my computer, but it may have been during the midnight hour. I was feeling rough, but I remained up until at least 4 a.m. before returning to bed, taking a 3-mg tablet of melatonin. I cannot say that it helped much, or if at all.

By 8 a.m. sleep was problematic, but I resisted rising until after 8:30 a.m. My brother was already downstairs watching T.V.

But I want to speak a bit of the movie, for it is the second 2010 Daphne Zuniga flick that I have watched within the past two weeks. I thought she performed very well in the first movie, On Strike for Christmas, and had by that achievement made me a fan. 

She absolutely consolidated that distinction in this second movie.

I also enjoyed the performance of the actress portraying her sister. I cannot claim to be acquainted with actress Gina Holden, but she did seem familiar enough that I felt that I have watched her act before. I am going to try and remember her name.

Normally I don't have anything to say about the actors portraying the husbands of main characters such as Daphne's, but Dan Payne did a good job ─ I liked his sympathetic character quite a lot.

Anyway, I don't know if it was mainly the beer, or if the movie truly did catch me off guard emotionally, but I feel myself obliged to give it top marks. I may tune it in around Christmastime if my brother brings his girlfriend Bev here to spend a couple of days with us.

Early last week, I had my brother watch the documentary 1986: The Act. It can be found on BitChute.com ─ just be sure to select the proper video, for it should be shown as running for an hour and 40 minutes. I knew that Dr. Joseph Mercola had interviewed the documentary's producer, Andrew Wakefield, but I never planned that we would also watch the interview.

But this morning, I decided we would. And so just after 10 a.m., I tuned it on on T.V. with our Android TV Box: 1986: The Act- Interview with Andrew Wakefield. My brother did grumble (he does not care for Dr. Mercola's interviews), but he did watch it with sufficient interest, I thought.

I next tuned in the third season finale of Channel Zero that concluded a storyline titled "Butcher's Block". What a piece of trash that was.

Well, there is one more storyline to go, and then we'll finally be done with the series. 

I must say, I have been suffering all day ─ that hangover, I guess. I had a helpful nap around 4 p.m. that also helped me sleep through the full-body prickling flush brought on by a niacin supplement that I took with my mid-afternoon meal. I don't seem to be adjusting to niacin as yet ─ it's been a couple of weeks now since I started taking the supplement, I think. 

The long tablets are 500-mgs, but I cut each of them into three sections. I have no intention of subjecting myself to the horrendous experience that I went through when I took an entire tablet that first time!

It is after 7:30 p.m. right now, and my wife has been home since just after 6:30 p.m., so I am going to have to bring today's post to a close. I will not be engaging the last bit of exercise that I had scheduled for today ─ I need full privacy, and now I do not have it.

But it is nice having her here. No complaints ─ I don't feel much like exercising anyway. At least I did manage to perform 200 of my version of Hindu squats shortly before she showed up, so I got that much done. 

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Back to the Real Canadian Superstore After Three Months

My younger brother remained away last evening, spending the night at the home of his girlfriend Bev. However, I never had occasion to watch a Christmas movie. I doubt that I will this day, either.

I hoped to resume shopping again early this morning at Real Canadian Superstore ─ I have not set foot in that direction since the latter part of August when they mandated the public needed to wear face masks. However, now that the province has itself mandated (as of the 18th of this month?) that everyone must wear face masks in grocery stores, I had nowhere else in which to shop for groceries where I could be face mask-free.

I don't think that I was to bed last evening any later than 9:45 p.m.; and this time, I refrained from rising into the midnight hour or the ensuing hour thereafter, as is my routine whenever I retire early. I was determined to gain sufficient sleep that when I did rise, I would not find myself flagging after a few hours and need to return to bed to rest before forcing myself away to shop.

I have to walk on these expeditions, since I do not drive; and the nearest Real Canadian Superstore outlet (Google Map) is ─ by way of street travel ─ precisely a 5.625-mile round trip foray from here. To be frank, I was somewhat unsure if I would be up to the journey after not having dealt with that distance for three months.   

As it was to happen, I found myself so awake just ahead of 3 a.m. that no further sleep seemed likely, so I rose and eventually got to work setting up a second post at the new version of my website MyRetirementDream.com. My hope now is that if I work on the post daily, I may have it finished and published by mid-December at latest.

My destination store opens at 7 a.m., so I wanted to arrive there as soon thereafter as I would be able to arrange. The night had been dry, and though it was chilly out, it was well above freezing. 

I believe that it may have been as late as 6:13 a.m. by the time I was on my way into the dark. It was a later start than I intended, so I hastened my pace.

All worked out ─ as I was within sight of the store, I checked the time and saw that it was but 7:01 a.m.

I had a face mask with me, but as yet in this false pandemic, I have not even tried one on for size. And I preferred to maintain that stance ─ instead, I had a bandana around my neck, set to pull up over my nose like some old-time highwayman.

Apparently the device was acceptable ─ no one in the store said aught. I must say, though, it dramatically hampered my breathing; and I was never able to see anything below my face, for the bandana effectively blocked that range of my vision.

In fact, after I exited the store and dropped my bandana down around my neck, my eyes felt strained ─ especially my bad right one. I don't know if I had been in the store more than 10 minutes, yet afterwards that strained sensation bothered my eyes for at least a half hour. It was honestly distressing.

It is most definitely not a 'healthy' experience. 

I want to note that it was still very gloomy by the time I had gotten to the store, for the night had not fully given way to day. I love being out under such conditions! It makes me feel so very comfortably anonymous.

I don't recall exactly when I was back home, but it was probably around 8:20 a.m., and as yet neither of my stepsons had risen. My brother was not to show up until after 10 a.m.

Soon after that, I returned to bed, for I had quite badly declined. As well, since I practice intermittent fasting and would be unable to take in any calories ─ such as one of the craved rich, hot, caffeinated beverages I so enjoy breaking my fast with ─ I preferred seeking some of sleep's oblivion in place of sitting here at my computer and longing for sustenance. My fast precludes taking in any calories whatsoever until after the midway point of the noon hour. 

I did nap, but only into the early noon hour. However, after I rose and came here to my computer, I managed to well exceed 1 p.m. before I finally relented and went downstairs for the delicious beverage.

My brother had returned to his own bedroom while I was napping, but he was soon enough back out; and as I made my way downstairs for that robust and revitalizing drink, he headed away for the afternoon. He and a few of the crowd he drinks with are heavily into the NFL games as that season advances toward the playoffs. I expect that the major part of my brother's interest lies with the Seattle Seahawks as a substitute and remote version of 'our' home team now that the CFL is long done for the year ─ unwarranted COVID-19 fears cancelled the entire season. (See CBC.ca: A sad day for CFL fans as Grey Cup Sunday goes dark for 2020.)

Hmm. I have just now realized that it is not yet much beyond 6 p.m. ─ maybe I can squeeze in a Christmas movie! But first I need to discharge some exercise I feel obligated to engage.

Yes ─ I am calling it quits for today.

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Lauren Coe: One of "Three Wise Women"

As suggested in yesterday's post, I did manage to watch a Christmas movie that evening that I had earlier been unable to locate a source for in any of the 'apps' that I had tried which I have downloaded into our Android TV Box.

As I also mentioned, I had been unable to find an online source for the movie when I used Google to search for one, but Russian search engine Yandex did not let me down ─ although one must be cautious as to which link results are tested. So many are naught but lures awaiting unsuspecting visitors lacking adequate virus / malware protection.

I had already located a safe source for the movie ─ the legitimate social media platform OK.ru. 

The movie I was after was the Irish 2010 Hallmark feature Three Wise Women.

And so, using the Firefox browser 'app' that I have downloaded into our Android TV Box, I accessed the movie ─ and provided that the link remains valid, I found the movie here. 

I confess that I was not especially into the mood for a Christmas movie, and I did not initially care for the theme of this one ─ I prefer straightforward heartwarmers. This one, I fast discovered, would heavily feature a somewhat errant 'young' guardian angel and his supervisor. Heck, I couldn't even follow what was going on at the movie's start, and I thought that the movie was perhaps misfiled ─ what did the futuristic year 2049 have to do with any Christmas movie that I wanted to see?   

I had not realized that the movie had an Irish setting until I was watching it. But that wasn't a flaw by any means. I just was not expecting it.

I think that the movie was probably half over before it dawned upon me that it was really a take on "A Christmas Carol" with perhaps a wee touch of It's a Wonderful Life. It was only into the second half of the movie that I began to find myself quite deeply invested into it, but that had actually begun as soon the young teen version of the central character was enlisted by the guardian angel to help sway her middle-aged self to depart from the trajectory in which she was bound.

The teen version of the main character was played by a young Irish actress named Lauren Coe, and I found myself strongly attracted to the lively lass. However, in researching her for this post, there is not too much detail about her as this feeble IMDb.com biography reveals.

Her own Twitter account says that her birthday is November 4, but I cannot believe that she is presently 19 years old as several sources such as this claim. There is no way that I can accept that she was only nine years old in that movie ─ how in blazes could she have possibly pulled off being old enough to serve as her middle-aged self's temporary receptionist / assistant? She was clearly older than nine!

I located one ridiculous source that pegs her as being 34 years old, but those morons declare her birthday to be on February 1 ─ we have already seen at her own Twitter account that her birthday as November 4, so something is terribly amiss with that age claim.

I am going to make a speculation ─ this is entirely based upon a snippet of detail that I located in an October 19, 2013 article at website Independent.ie that is evidently a collection of questions that were posed to different members of the "Bachelor of Acting" Class of 13 that concludes with this wrap-up:

The first class of Bachelor in Acting students to study at The Lir will be performing to the general public for the first time. A series of eight plays will be presented throughout the academic year 2013-14, featuring an ensemble cast of students and directed by some of the UK and Ireland's most accomplished directors, including Nona Shepphard, Conal Morrisson, Hilary Wood, Selina Cartmell, Rachel West, Tom Creed, Lynne Parker and Wayne Jordan. Priced at €15 per show, the season kicks off this month with Owen McCafferty's 'Scenes from the Big Picture'. See thelir.ie

I know that Lauren Coe is a graduate of The Lir Academy of Trinity College Dublin, as this "Acting Profile" of her as an "Alumni 2014" well celebrates.

Well, in that previous article of the Class of (20)13, she is one of the students who is given a random question to respond to. In doing so, she is identified as being "Lauren Coe, 21, Dublin".

Ergo, if she was 21 years old on October 19, 2013 when that article was published; and her birthday is correctly November 4; then she will just have had her 29th birthday early this month in 2020.

I think that clears up all confusion. And she was around 18 when she acted in the Christmas movie.

I liked Lauren Coe and her character very early into the movie, as I have already said. However, her character's mature self was played by actress Amy Huberman. It took me well into the second half of the movie before I warmed up to the actress or her character, but at least it finally did happen.

Nevertheless, with that said, I am not going to now research whatever I can about her like I did for Lauren Coe. I noticed one claim that Amy Huberman was born on March 20, 1979 ─ and is thus 41 years old; and that's where I shall abandon anything more concerning her. The birthday claim may or may not be true.

By the way, the eldest version of the character was portrayed by well-known veteran actress Fionnula Flanagan. It seemed to me a tad peculiar that the elder version of the character had such a heavier Irish accent than did her two younger versions. 

By the end of the movie, I found my eyes burning with some emotion, which is what I seek in Christmas movies. I regret that I did not enter into the movie feeling more into the mood for it. Part of my trouble stemmed from a migraine aura and subsequent vague headache that had begun afflicting me before it was yet 10 a.m. that morning. I am still not entirely rid of the vague cranial pressure of that attack.  

Supposedly we had a happy movie ending, but closer examination rather negates that possibility insofar as concerns the elder version of the character. Her lifeline would have to become non-existent, yet there had never been any exploration whatsoever of that jarring fact. Did she not realize that she was preventing her version of herself from existing when she returned to the past timeline of her middle-aged self with their guardian angel in an effort to sway the middle-aged version of herself from the path she was on?

To successfully accomplish that mission of change would spell the extermination of the person the elder character had become, would it not? Her middle-aged self would not go on to achieve everything that the elder version did, nor would she have acquired the same friendships and other social networks. Their social and personal lives would entirely diverge.

And it was looking as if the middle-aged version would be marrying the middle-aged version of the young man who loved her when they were teens together. The elder version of the character had married someone else ─ a failed marriage, certainly. But it had happened, and that failure would have affected him, too.      

Finally, what of any kids the middle-aged version was now likely to be having with her now-alternate husband choice? There were no kids in the elder character's version. Any child would have had a huge personality-changing effect upon her, further eradicating key personality facets of the elder version of the character even if somehow she was not erased nor her world replaced with the new reality that her middle-aged self would be inspiring to ultimately come into existence. 

I wish that we had guardian angels. Ever since I was a young man, I have longed to have had such an entity who actually cared enough about me to have presented himself to me from time to time when I needed the support. A very special friend, if you prefer.

Instead, just as has been the case with everyone else, I have been left to struggle through everything as best I have been able. 

Alternatively, it would have been damned cool to have been able to have my younger self accessible ─ my elder self to give inner support and insight to my younger self; and my younger self to be an instrument to resurrect and inspire my ageing and timid present self who lacks the self-confidence I once had that saw me spending hours into the night exploring my environs for miles at a stretch.

If I had my younger self to walk and talk with by somehow the pair of us sharing timelines, it would be an enormous encouragement to both of us.

However, obviously any changes that my present self inspired in my younger self would be jeopardizing the precise personal / social world order and reality that is unique to me now. Just as I perceived with the movie's main character, I would be erasing almost everything that is true for me today. My timeline as it precisely is now would never have come to be.

I may often enough wish that I were dead, but I don't really care for the concept of having my personality mutate into what would essentially be someone else ─ someone other than whom I am now as a consequence of a lifetime of the formative experiences I have undergone over the course of 71 years of existing and living.

Let us move from this fantastic exploration.

I should mention that I had a can of strong (8% alcohol) beer and also a good shot of amber or golden rum over the course of that Christmas movie. 

And although I got to bed early enough and eventually found sleep, I found myself awake at one point and of the belief that it was probably well into the a.m. Alas, a check of the time revealed that it was barely midnight.

Nevertheless, I decided to rise and do a few things here at my computer. I was to find that my brother was only just newly into his bedroom as he performed his preretirement routine that comprises elements such as shaving and the brushing his teeth in his en suite shower room.    

Despite that nagging vague headache still largely being present, I got to work doing some research on the second post that I am planning on eventually creating and publishing at the new version of my website MyRetirementDream.com. 

I knew that I was courting trouble if I taxed myself too much, so I was probably back to bed around 4 a.m. Yesterday I had entertained notions of seeking to visit a liquor store this morning, but I came to the conclusion that such a venture would have to await the arrival of my monthly pension late next week.

Notwithstanding, I do hope early in the a.m. tomorrow to undergo the 5.625-mile round trip hike to do some shopping at the nearest outlet of the Real Canadian Superstore. I have not visited that supermarket chain since back in August when they decided to make it mandatory for customers to wear face masks.

What has changed in that regard is that now the province's health officer and premier mandated just two or three days ago that everyone here must wear face masks in public venues such as grocery stores.

I had been exclusively doing my grocery shopping at Save-On Foods because they were still lax on face masks, but now even they have to toe the line. And since the items I wish to buy are almost all much cheaper at Real Canadian Superstore even though it is well over twice as far from where I live, I will make that longer trek to save some money.

As yet I am unsure just how to deal with the face mask conundrum. To date, I have not even tried one on, and I seriously hate to break from that principle of visible defiance concerning my credence in the fiction of their effectiveness.

I do have access to a face mask, but I may just bring it along and keep it in my pocket, and instead see if I can get away with simply pulling up a bandana across my nose and mouth like some sort of old-time bandit.

That would accord me some minimal identification with still being rebellious over the face mask policy.

But what a pair of a**-holes our health minister and premier are. This whole pandemic is a farce, and their safety measures are a hoax ─ they would not work if we truly had a deadly virus threatening us all. They're bald-faced liars ─ and not just them, but every single one of those who are involved in perpetuating this mess.  

Earlier this year, I actually found Bonnie Henry to be a soothing-voiced presence antyime I saw and heard her. But I have since grown to despise the woman more than I can properly express. I have absolutely no respect for her nor anything she stands for.

I am going to call it quits here for today. My younger brother left home today before it was yet noon. He may or may not end up spending the night at the home of his girlfriend Bev. If he does, then I might try and watch another Christmas movie this evening.  

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How Family Can Infuriate!

Although my younger brother arrived home exceptionally early last evening ─ in fact, it was not yet 7:15 p.m. ─ I remained distant from him in order not to risk having to try and watch T.V. with him. I am no longer taking the chance that he will be able to remain alert and conscious throughout the evening if I try and watch T.V. with him via our Android TV Box.

Anyway, I had just newly begun watching Odessa Orlewicz's latest (November 15) video post at Liberty Talk Canada, so his arrival forced me to come upstairs here to my computer to continue with it. The post was very nearly 1½ hours in duration.

Once it was done, I remained up for a while longer, and was in fact abed at exactly 10 p.m.

My brother had seemed in reasonable shape where his drinking was concerned, but I just don't want to be disappointed by him any longer. Every show he loses consciousness during is one that I will be compelled to have to re-watch at a future date when he is sober, and I no longer care to keep undergoing that dreary imposition.

Despite retiring a little later than I have been doing in the recent few weeks, sleep proved evasive. And thus it was that when I did find some, and then later found myself awake enough to be checking the time, it was just a little past 2 a.m. 

And so I rose with the intention of soon getting to work adding content into the post I have nearly finished at the new version of my website Thai-Iceland.com. This will be its very first post, so I am anxious to finally have it completed and published. With extreme good fortune, that just might happen tomorrow; but if not, then the day thereafter for certain.

Unfortunately for me last night, I discovered a newly arrived E-mail from my youngest stepson (22 years old). He was responding to this message that I had sent him and his brother on November 14:

Why COVID "Cases" Keep Climbing

The following article was published yesterday (November 13) and should answer why it seems impossible to stop "cases" of COVID-19 from climbing:

• Why COVID-19 Testing Is a Tragic Waste
  

The PCR test is the main one that is used in Canada.

That article didn't quite make clear what a PCR cycle involved, but this National Post article explains it this way. First, a swab is taken from someone and examined:

If a trace amount of [a suspected] virus’ genetic material is detected, it’s amplified, or copied, over and over again, cycle after cycle, each cycle doubling the amount of material and making millions of copies of what you’re looking for. ...

It’s like zooming in on your computer screen.... 

So even doing this 35 times may be excessive, and yet:

In Canada, most labs set the limit of cycles to detect the virus’ genetic material, or RNA, to between 35 and 40 cycles, though some Ontario labs have “positivity” cut-offs as high as 45 cycles, according to a study first flagged by Westphalian Times.

That's too much! And as the first article said of the PCR test:

The PCR tests cannot distinguish between inactive viruses and "live" or reproductive ones. What that means is that PCR tests cannot detect infection. Period. It cannot tell you whether you're currently ill, whether you'll develop symptoms in the near future, or whether you're contagious.

The tests may pick up dead debris or inactive viral particles that pose no risk whatsoever to the patient and others. What's more, the test can pick up the presence of other coronaviruses, so a positive result may simply indicate that you've recuperated from a common cold in the past.

Yet all of these questionable detections are not only being claimed to be positive indications of the COVID-19 virus, but each positive test is being called a "case" of COVID-19 ─ in other words, the actual disease itself.

It's absolutely not!

So we're being told ─ scared ─ every day of all these hundreds and hundreds of new "cases" of the disease, when there IS no disease ─ and there may well have not even been any actual presence of the COVID-19 virus. It could have been an indication of something as simple as a past cold.

Something fishy is happening ─ there has to be some deeper reason that we're all being lied to like this. Businesses don't need to be closed down ─ there is no pandemic. The only pandemic is one of PCR testing.

"Cases" are not the disease. They may not even be the presence of the actual virus, but something else perfectly harmless instead. Yet the lie goes on.

This is insanity. Or something more diabolical.  

I spent quite some time putting that E-mail together.

My reward for the effort was this absolutely aggravating response:

Although that’s an interesting read, and you could be right: maybe there’s no such thing as COVID-19... but I find it very very hard to believe that 195 countries agreed upon this one “big lie” to scare everyone.

That, to me, seems bizarre. There’s no way in hell that the people running these countries could ever see eye to eye, and agreed to make this all up.

There’s a lot of people out there claiming this and that, everyone seems to have a PhD and experts at these things online.

It’s bold read and claims from the first article that you linked within that email... here’s another website digging deeper into who wrote that article.

https://quackwatch.org/11ind/mercola/

Regardless of what is true or false, it’s definitely interesting how much the world has changed recently from all of this.

Thanks

He never read what I sent ─ nowhere did my message imply that COVID-19 did not exist and was a fabricated disease!

I was furious, and probably spent an hour in a reply that now had to defend Dr. Joseph Mercola from some idiot I've never heard of. I've been reading Dr. Mercola's articles for more than a dozen years ─ I know how out of context each of the claims that were made against him are. 

And what was especially galling was that some of the condemnations made against him in that article are actually attacks against the truth ─ mercury amalgam fillings are harmful, as is the fluoride unnaturally added to drinking water.

Anyway, I lost so much time in that reply which will probably only be ignored, that I could not contain my upset. The loss of time meant that I returned to bed around 5 a.m. without accomplishing everything I had wanted to get done.

And even then, I had to struggle to find enough calm to eventually gain some sleep.

When I rose later well past 9 a.m., I was soon to find that my temper renewed. The kid had gone to work, but I kept rehearsing his density. How can a high school graduate interpret that I was trying to convince him that SARS-CoV-2 and its related infectious condition did not exist? Did he have a comprehension disability?

I know that much of my ire was a result of inadequate sleep. I found over the early afternoon that very minor things were throwing me into an inner rage ─ and an outer rage once I was home alone, for I sometimes burst into roaring profanity.

It was only after getting a mid-afternoon nap that I finally found myself back in control of myself.

Incidentally, while I was watching some T.V. with my brother from 10 a.m. to approximately 1 p.m., he surprised me by telling me that my eldest stepson had left early in the morning to go off to one of the mountains to try his hand at snowboarding for the very first time.

I had no idea! The 26-year-old never said anything to me about any such plan.

We've had a day that has been wet throughout, so there is no telling what the lad would be finding on one of the local mountains. I hope that he at least had a safe and enjoyable time of it, even if it was raining there too and not cold enough to be snowing.

Today is my brother's weekly rendezvous with at least a couple of his drinking buddies at a pub, so he left here afoot ahead of the mid-afternoon so he could catch a bus. He will not likely be home this evening until after 9 p.m., so I would like to enjoy some T.V. in his absence.

Consequently, since I have yet to engage a little exercise first and get it out of my way, I am going to close this post and get it published. It is approaching 6:50 p.m.

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1986: The Act

Although I now do not recall the specific time that I sought my bed last evening, it may have been around 9:15 p.m., and I did so by choice ─ as yet, there had been no sign of my brother. I am unsure that I ever did hear him show up.

I don't recall just when I later rose, either. Possibly it was barely after 1 a.m., and I seem to remember that I had found myself awake and I had checked the time before it was yet midnight. At that point I was not feeling adequately slept, so I made no effort to rise then ─ I cared not if my brother had already gone to bed.

I am doing very well at completing my first post at the new version of my website Thai-Iceland.com. Until I have that post published, I am not linking to the website because I have nothing there I care for the public to see. 

I project that I just may have the post finally completed and published in two days (November 19) if current pace at development can be maintained. Apparently I began the post on November 1st, and have never failed to work on it each day since ─ it has consumed a lot of my time. I just hope it proves worthwhile, and of some reasonable interest.

It seems that I am also going to have to surmise when I returned to bed overnight, for even that specific time now eludes me. Ergo, I suggest that I did so just shy of the advent of 5 a.m.

I was to enjoy some sleep, of course; but I rose for the morning just ahead of 8 a.m., feeling still to have not properly racked up sufficient sleep. My brother had not yet risen, but he smartly did so and was quickly enough downstairs watching T.V.

My youngest stepson had to work this morning, so he was up ahead of me, and left for work before my brother had left his bedroom.

When I later joined my brother at 10 a.m., I had a two-hour documentary set to play for us via our Android TV Box and the Chrome 'app' that I have downloaded into it.

While I was still up overnight, I had researched and found a free source for Andrew Wakefield's 1986: The Act at Bichute.com. The actual documentary was not too easy to discern among all of the suggestions that Bitchute turned up, but I knew that it was supposed to be two hours, four minutes, and 32 seconds in duration (if I am remembering correctly); knowing that proved extremely helpful in making the proper selection.

On the chance that the source remains as I found it and does not get removed, then if you have ever wanted to watch the feature, the link that I used to access the video is this.      

Andrew Wakefield has been so systematically tarred that it is virtually impossible to use the likes of Google to locate any references that do not loudly discredit him, but of course that it the way of things today. The social media giants purge whatever information they can that is unfavourable to vaccines, and instead produce references wholly supportive of only what they want you to see.

I am not going to spend further time today blogging, for my evening is already upon me. I have some exercising that I need to clear away, and then I want to watch the latest of fellow British Columbian Odessa Orlewicz's Liberty Talk Canada videos.

I have only learned of this lovely firebrand within the past couple of weeks, but I welcome her open sincerity, and wish that I was in a position financially to help support her efforts. I think she has at least one conviction that is far beyond my ability to align with, but I am convinced that for the most part she is on course. 

I would have linked to Liberty Talk Canada's YouTube channel, but Odessa has said that YouTube has taken down three or so of her video posts so far. Bitchute does not tend to practice that sort of censorship, so I prefer to withhold providing any YouTube references whenever possible. 

Okay, that's enough from me for today.

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