Extinction

Well, temperatures are a wee bit better at last ─ Google says that here in Surrey where I live, at 6 p.m. the heat registered at 29º C.  Yesterday and the day before, the temperature was deep into the upper 30s.

However, we still have to contend with trying to sleep at night, and last night was looking impossible since my wife was home (I had the bedroom to myself the two nights previous to that).

So around 9:30 p.m. last evening, I tried bedding down outside on the backyard lawn. I had on a pair of shorts and an open short-sleeved shirt, and was covered over with a sheet to offer some protection against any roaming mosquitoes.

Fortunately for my wife, I had retrieved a good-sized standing fan from the backyard toolshed that everyone but me had forgotten about, and she had that for our bedroom to give some assist to the inadequate ceiling fan. 

In short order upon bedding down, I began perspiring copiously as I lay with the sounds of the world all around still very busy because it was not yet dark.

It occurred to me that I would soon be in something of a hydration deficit, for I hadn't brought any water to drink. Nonetheless, I endured. And eventually, I was aware that my younger brother was again bedding down on the backyard sundeck ─ his third consecutive night there.

However, before then, and perhaps before I had yet managed to sink into any sleep, my observant wife had come out and retrieved my cellphone, calling forth as she escorted it back into the house that the night air and any resulting moisture would be ill for the device.

And that left me with no idea on the time from thenceforth.

Ultimately I found myself sufficiently awake in the depth of the night that I decided that I would rise and come back into the house to get some work done here at my computer. As I rose, I rather inadvertently spake aloud to myself, and was rewarded with the stirrings of my brother as he, too, started to get up.

I suspect that it was not so much that I disturbed him as it was his need to divest himself of some of the beer he had earlier consumed that was ever since trickling its way through his system.

So he came into the house to deal with that need, and I similarly sought a different bathroom; but he returned to the sundeck, whereas I remained in the house.

I think that it may have been 2 - 2:30 a.m.

Whatever the case, I got some work done, but I never managed to add any content into the draft post that is languishing at near-completion at one of my two hosted websites. My burning eyes just did not seem hale enough to handle that added burden.

As the night was yielding with dawn's imminence, around 4:30 a.m. I carefully checked on my wife in our bedroom, and I could see her lying atop the bed entirely uncovered, the fan blowing directly at her with the ceiling fan running above. She was lying mostly on her back, her limbs rather splayed out, with one arm across the boundary where I would have been had I also been abed.

In other words, there seemed no room for me; but I was already prepared for that eventuality. And so I bedded down on the floor here in the small room where I keep my computer ─ the room is directly adjacent to our bedroom.  

However, even with the ceiling fan running, it was practically stifling. I just lay on the bare carpet in my shorts and open shirt, with my head on a pair of less-than-plush pillows. And there I remained until around 8:30 a.m., alternately lying on one side until my hip began to object, switching to my back for a time, and then turning onto the other side, all while occasionally slipping into a little sleep.

When I rose, I was aware that my youngest stepson was just about set to head away for work. His older brother has an afternoon shift, so no one else was up.

When the younger lad left, i did make a check on my brother, and saw that he must have come back into the house to avoid the bright day ─ our backyard is more or less on the east side of the house.

I had plans for us to watch a movie around 10 a.m., and he conveniently chose approximately then to finally emerge from his bedroom for the day.

The movie was 2018's Extinction.

I have to give credit that the movie certainly proved interesting enough ─ it was not boring. However, it ended inconclusively, as so many movies seem to do. I prefer to have a sense of what the future holds for the characters ─ not be left with no idea at all.

Wikipedia certainly has a sloppy description for the feature. I'm glad that it at least informed me who a rather athletic and large black dude was (he played the boss of the main character). The actor looked so very familiar, but I just could not place him. And now I know that it was Mike Colter ─ T.V.'s Luke Cage himself!

But the small cast roster at Wikpedia uselessly identifies who played "Ray, Samantha's husband"; and who played "Samantha, Ray's wife"; and even who played "Ray and Samantha's daughter". But nowhere in the movie write-up does the article explain who those three characters are! There is not one mention ─ not even a description of any of them that is of an anonymous nature.

They are entirely dropped from the movie description and plot recap.

Hey, I want to have a bath ─ my first since this past Friday; and it is already 7 p.m., so I am going to take a short pause.

oooooooooooooo

It is now 8:42 p.m. I had my bath, and then decided to have a beer and a wee bit of supper while watching some T.V.

But I'm not done with that movie.

Yes, I enjoyed Extinction, but the plot had huge holes in its logic.

So the viewer is lulled along from the start by being made to believe that we are seeing ourselves about to be invaded by aliens.

But as we find out well into the second half of the movie, the invaders are actually us ─ the 'plain folks' being invaded are synthetics. 

It is told how most of the synthetics on Earth have opted to have their memories erased concerning the events half a century earlier when they rebelled again humankind and exterminated everyone who didn't manage to evacuate to Mars where the humans ever since built a force designed to take back their planet.

The reason most of the synthetics preferred to have their memories erased and be lulled into believing that they are human is because of the awfulness of the massacre 50 years earlier.  

Okay, I was willing to accept that.

Supposedly, our main (unknowing) synthetic main character began to have memories of that earlier rebellion and massacre, and came to believe that what he was remembering was actually a prediction of what was about to occur.

His wife and two little girls of course had no idea that they are also synthetics.

The huge flaw here is that the little girls were actually the synthetic children of a real human couple who had been killed in the original rebellion 50 years before. Our main character and his newfound (50 years before) love interest decided to take the two girls as their own.

That's great ─ seriously, I'm not being sarcastic. And of course, they all chose to have their memories erased and have implanted memories of being a genuine human family.

So now explain how the little girls ─ the oldest who should be approaching 60 years of age, and the youngest who would have to be in her mid-50s ─ never sensed something was funny each time they were having a birthday celebration every year?

Or are we supposed to believe that somehow, every synthetic on Earth is somehow abducted on an annual basis to have their memories readjusted?

That bugs me!

It also didn't hold muster that the sympathetic human invader Miles, who explains to our main character just what he and his synthetic wife really are, also says something about how nice it must be to be able to have memory of the rebellious holocaust erased, and have new and pleasant memories installed as replacements.

In conclusion, Miles says something like, "But humans can't do that." In other words, humans have to live with their awful memories of the past.

Well, maybe so. But Miles couldn't have been around 50 years earlier ─ he was only a young soldier in the movie. He could not possibly be remembering any of it. He would only know what he was taught.

So that element fell apart for me, too.

Too much of the movie just didn't work for me. It was as if once it was revealed that the people we were identifying with were actually not real humans, then the movie-makers just got shoddy with the remainder of the story and concluded it as quickly as they could.

That certainly would explain the open-ended non-finality of the movie.

I hate those.

And that's my final word on the film.   

I want to close now with two supposed wise quotes that hugely apply now to the worldwide plandemic / scamdemic / casedemic, and all of the brainless sheep who embrace that lie:

"You can beat 40 scholars with one fact, but you can’t beat one idiot…with 40 facts.”

"When an honest man discovers he is mistaken, he will either cease to be mistaken or cease to be honest." 

So pull your head out of the sand or your arse or wherever you have it if you truly do think that there is some raging pandemic scourging the world.

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💀☠💀☠💀☠ And the Heat Continues

I have just checked Google, and it claims that at 5 p.m. today the temperature here in Surrey where I live was 40º C. (104º F.).

If true, then it would have to be a heat record. I have lived her since the start of 1957, and I don't ever remember the temperature reaching 90º F.

Last night I lay atop my bed naked and uncovered beneath the ceiling fan to try and sleep. I rose in the neighbourhood of 1:30 a.m. to find that my younger brother was still watching T.V., but he was seated on a chair in the middle of the living room directly under the ceiling fan which he had running at maximum. 

I doubt that he stayed up more than another half hour, but instead of going to his bedroom for the night, he instead went out onto the backyard sundeck and spent the night there. 

I remained up until maybe 3:30 a.m. and then returned to bed, this time lying with my head at the foot of the bed. Earlier, even though I was naked and uncovered, I was perspiring so badly that the bedding beneath me was soggy.

This is insane.

I remained atop my bed until about 5 a.m., and then I rose to dress and go outside to water the front yard garden plants. It was daylit by then, of course. A check of my younger brother on the sundeck revealed him to be lying on his left side on the pad that I use when I sun my back. He was dressed in just his shorts and a short-sleeved top and otherwise uncovered.

It would have been too cool for me, but he was quite drunk when he retired there; and he probably has well over 20 pounds on me despite being slightly shorter. He may even be 30 or more pounds heavier than I am, for I last weighed-in a couple or so days ago at a hair below 180 pounds while stripped down.

I returned to bed and remained there on top of the covers, still naked, until perhaps after 9 a.m. By then my brother had sought his bedroom.

He soon enough rose and had a fast shower, by which time I was downstairs ready for him with Odessa Orlewicz's latest video all set to play via on T.V. our Android TV Box: June 27- Tomorrow! Huge Court Case In Toronto With Guest Vladislav.

The video is something under a half hour in duration, but presently only available at YouTube, so I had no choice but to link to it there.

The only other show of note was one I had downloaded previously onto a USB flash drive. Unfortunately, I now realize that it was the second episode and not the first of Jack Whitehall: Travels with My Father, season four. There are only two episodes in the season, so I must now seek out the first of them. 

We were to watch T.V. until late into the noon hour, and then my poor brother sought his bedroom for some further rest before he headed away in the very hot early afternoon to begin drenching himself with cold beer somewhere.

I had some exercises scheduled for the backyard toolshed ─ three different types of movements. However, by the time I completed the first exercise in three sets, I was far too overheated and wet with perspiration to continue.

I had to perform the next exercise later in its two sets; and then later still, I performed the final exercise (push-ups) in a single set in some shade outside.

Unfortunately, by that time I had succumbed to reprehensible conduct. Perhaps I was too reluctant to undertake the session of sunning I had been planning on daring out there in the dreadfully hot backyard.

I am going to close today's post (I have two cans of strong beer that are now probably close to freezing that need drinking), but I want to close with the following ─ a post I just made to my Facebook account:

How many of you have heard anything about the four British Airways pilots who have all died within a few weeks of each other, apparently after being vaxxinated with the “perfectly safe” vaxxine?

(I am purposely misspelling the word to try and keep from the notice of those moron Facebook fact checkers.)

These four pilots are not the only ones, it seems. But naturally, you’re not going to be hearing about it on any of the news stations you tune in.

This is the best account of the situation that I have yet come across ─ a June 25 article titled “BA refuse to deny pilots died after covid jab”.

Sure, you can keep ignoring accounts like that. But maybe reconsider taking any long haul flights. After all, as the third paragraph in that article says:

“Pilot deaths are rare, and it may well just be ‘bad luck’ or a ‘coincidence’, but according to a retired RAF pilot who was also an airline captain who flew for several independent British airlines: ‘Airline pilots are a very healthy bunch. I worked for a number of airlines, and I actually cannot recall a pilot dying of any illness before retirement. Four in a few weeks? Unheard of.”

Did you catch that? Such pilots just do not die (outside of accidents) this side of retirement.

But hey ─ the vaxxine is “perfectly safe”! Except … maybe look up the word “perfect” in a dictionary if its definition eludes you.

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Hottest Day Ever Here in Surrey?

This is ludicrously unbelievable. Google claims that here in Surrey where I live, at 5 p.m. the temperature was 89º C. (102.2º F.).

Exercise is impossible. Or at least, near enough so that I settled on the grocery shopping expedition I underwent early this morning as my day's workout. It was also my exposure to the Sun, so I never felt that I was being omissive by not sunning this afternoon. 

However, I almost never went shopping.

I slept so poorly overnight. I had retired around 9:30 p.m. last evening, but just lay atop my bed naked with the ceiling fan running.

I rose around 12:15 a.m. and came here to my computer for maybe an hour before returning to bed to lie there naked and uncovered until around 4 a.m. when I next checked the time.

My shopping destination was the nearest Real Canadian Superstore that is a 5.625-mile round trip hike from here, and which opens at 7 a.m., so I needed to leave as near to 6 a.m. as I could.

I left at 6:10 a.m., but as I said, I nearly called the trip off. I was so damned underslept. I had a mug of black instant coffee before I left, but I drank it without heating the water ─ I just used cold water from the kitchen tap.

There wasn't anything I direly needed, but I try to make that trip every two weeks, and this was the time for it. However, I was going to have to be careful because my chequing account only had $69.35 in it ─ but at the time, I thought that I had read the balance to be $60.35.

The Sun was immediately in my face as I set out, for that was the direction of my hike. I was dressed in black denim jeans, and a black sleeveless top over which I wore a black sleeveless denim jacket. The jacket has deep inside pockets that come in handy for carrying things like face masks and my cellphone, so it is relatively indispensable. 

Before I was half way to my destination, sweat was trickling down my face and dripping from my nose. But I persevered, and accomplished the errand.

Note that when I was cashing out with the few things I had selected, the bill came to $60.14. I didn't remember exactly how many cents over $60 I had believe my account to hold, but I was fairly sure that it was well over that. Nevertheless, it was a relief when my debit card was approved in payment.

Need I state that the trip home was drenching where sweating was concerned? The socks in my boots were even drenched.

This is beyond ridiculous.

Anyway, my younger brother was not yet up, so I decided to return to my bed to lie naked atop of it once more in the pursuit of any nap that I might slip into.

It was nearly 10 a.m. when I next checked the time, so I rose in the hope that I would be able to intercept the T.V. so my brother and I could watch some fare of my choosing. Unfortunately, he was already sitting under the living room fan watching that dreary The Nature of Things that he seems so invested in each Sunday.

I used to feel considerable respect for the guy (David Suzuki), but I learned last December that he is one of the duped or even the corrupt who are 100% behind COVID-19 face masks, lockdowns, 'vaccines', and of course, "Climate Change" measures that will be our undoing and put everyone firmly into the grip of the elite who want control of the world for themselves.

He's either a sell-out, or a coward, or else he's not at all intelligent after all.

I was forced to sit through the show before my brother offered control of the T.V. to me so that I could put our Android TV Box into action.

I led us off with Odessa Orlewicz's latest video recorded yesterday (and 46 minutes in duration) titled Will The Cards Start To Fall? The Illegal Cover Ups Are Publicly Being Displayed Now. 

That link and title is for the Rumble version ─ it can also be found at Odysee and BitChute.

My brother and I were to watch T.V. together until 12:40 p.m., and then he sought a slight rest before he headed away for the afternoon to eventually start soaking up cold beer somewhere.

I have never truly stopped perspiring today. However, I think that beginning tomorrow, temperatures are going to begin dropping by several degrees.

I keep forgetting that I have been intending to link at Substack.com to a young woman far more attuned to what's going on than dense David Suzuki seems willing to be.

Her name is Celia Farber who bills herself as follows: Investigative historian of deep fake virus agendas, from "HIV" to "Covid-19," anti-tyranny in all forms, contributor to The Epoch Times, UnCoverDC.

It was this June 17 report of hers that grabbed my attention:

The Kirsch Report: "We're Going To Show You Proof That There Are Over 25,000 Excess Deaths And Most All Of Those Are Due To The Vaccine"
Steve Kirsch, Executive Director Of The Covid-19 Early Treatment Fund

Link To Presentation Here

This presentation, linked above, and the video posted below, Bret Weinstein’s Dark Horse Podcast, are essential listening. We must face what is happening head-on, and not concern ourselves with losing friends, alienating family, losing careers, being canceled, de-platformed or anything else.

We are in an absolutely shocking chapter of American history, and I agree with Steve Kirsch, that Anthony Fauci is complicit in mass murder. So is everybody who makes excuses for him, or defends him. This is no longer speculative. The injections are outright killing people of all ages, and the media steadfastly refuses to report on any of these deaths. Instead they bully and malign those who decry them, as “anti-vaxxers.”

How about “anti-deathers?'“

“Tony Fauci funded the virus research. The escape from the lab was an accident, but when Tony realized the virus he funded escaped, he conspired with Kristian Andersen, Jeremy Farrar (of Wellcome), and others to cover it up. So this whole thing is Tony's fault, and he lied to Congress, covered it up, and the emails were improperly redacted so we can't see what really happened. This is all well documented and laid out in Chris Martenson's excellent videos (see Fauci's Dishonesty and Co-Conspirators Revealed!). Jeremy Farrar didn't answer my email to him (I know him) to explain what happened. Kristian blocked Chris on Twitter and removed 5,000 tweets to cover his tracks so nobody else would figure it out. NOBODY is asking any questions about that. In Bret's interview we discussed how the virus may change society forever and we may be dealing with it forever. The ADE caused by the vaccine may make you more vulnerable to future outbreaks. Yet Fauci hasn't even been given a slap on the wrist! By not talking about early treatments, the press wouldn't consider the work done on ivermectin and fluvoxamine credible. He's responsible for the deaths of millions of people worldwide and trillions of dollars in damages by creating the virus and then suppressing early treatments which could have saved people's lives. Why isn't anyone calling for his resignation? For criminal charges for obstructing justice for lying to Congress? For involuntary manslaughter? I will allege that Tony Fauci is the greatest mass murderer in history. Instead, he's still in his job and nobody except Senator Rand Paul is asking any questions? One Senator! Everyone else in Congress supports him 100%. By comparison, I am guilty of 2 hours of rude behavior (the last 45 minutes was more civil). Who is the real villian?”

—Steve Kirsch

How to save the world, in three easy steps. ~ Bret Weinstein's Darkhorse Podcast

I had to drop a couple of invalid links, and replace yet another.

Hey, it is already well beyond 7 p.m., and I have a couple of cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer sitting in the fridge's icebox, so I am going to close out here and log in a little T.V. downstairs where the heat is less oppressive than it is here upstairs where I have been working on this post.

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Near Encounter With a Vicious Pitbull

Although I did not post here yesterday, I did not do so legitimately ─ that is, I had justification.

First, though, I wish to report on a few things about the day ─ for one, it was so very sunny and hot. Sleep is even more problematic, and the house has a number of fans running throughout the days and nights.

After I had joined my brother around 10 a.m. that morning to watch some T.V. via our Android TV Box, at his suggestion we sampled a video that had been recommended by Odessa Orlewicz in a video of hers that we had watched on Thursday.

The recommended video was hosted by someone ─ most likely Canadian ─ who calls herself Amazing Polly: Are Leaders Being Threatened by the International Public Health Mafia?

The video was 42 minutes in duration, and left me so very impressed that I am going to now make her material 'must' viewing henceforth as are Odessa Orlewicz's videos ─ we have watched everything Odessa has put out ever since I 'discovered' her sometime last Fall. 

Anyway, my wife had to work the full day yesterday, so she of course had to rise and soon enough leave on her fairly long drive for her 11 a.m. start at her friend's Thai restaurant. I still don't know where exactly she went Tuesday evening to go 'camping' (she only returned early Thursday evening), but through her Facebook posts, I understand that there were three other probably-Thai women, and two Farang guys like me. 

I don't know who they ─ the White guys ─ belonged to.

Everyone had obviously gone into the mountains; and some photos were taken at what she reported as being a "rest stop" at "Loon Lake". Unfortunately, Loon Lakes are not exactly uncommon.

At their camping spot, I saw that there seemed to be at least one tent; and a motorhome. 

But enough said about that.

Both of my stepsons were away to work in the afternoon yesterday, so after my brother left to "play pool" early into the afternoon, I was free to do whatever I wanted to without restriction here in the house.

Despite the heat, around mid-afternoon I somehow managed to keep the day's session of exercising out in the backyard toolshed. However, I had to reduce the number of overall pull-ups and chin-ups I might otherwise have totalled in those exercises because the thick bars I have to use to work from quickly became slick to the grip; and the raised atmosphere in the rafters where the bars are stretched across was sweltering.  

Then I had just lain down with the intention of sunbathing when it occurred to me that I could honourably dispense with that heated experience by instead making the four-mile round trip to the nearest government liquor store to purchase some Scotch for my younger brother's upcoming birthday.

I tried checking out the websites of two different private liquor stores that are closer, but neither of them offered any description of their spirits. I am a pensioner who must heed his financial limitations, so the more distant destination became unavoidable. I need to know prices beforehand, and only the government liquor store offered those online.

I made the trip, but it took me some time before I was finally able to get myself away from here ─ in fact, it was almost 6 p.m., and my youngest stepson had just newly arrived home.

I ended up buying my brother two 750-ml bottles: one each of John Barr Blended Scotch Whiskey, and The Famous Grouse Smoky Black. I also bought myself a half dozen Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol).

On my way back home, I had a wretched incident approximately a half mile from here.

I was coming along one of those enclosed walkways that take pedestrians through various neighbourhoods, and this one intersected with another similar walkway.

Well, just as I was coming to that intersection, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of a slathering dog. Then, just as I was arriving at that intersection, a young South Asian man appeared who was just ahead of another South Asian companion who had a grotesquely enormous dark brown or maybe even greyish-black pitbull on a close leash.

The two guys were in their 20s or maybe even their 30s.

The first one appeared somewhat taken aback to find me almost upon him, and I arrived at the intersection of walkways just as the second guy and the grotesque pitbull arrived.

There was no warning for any of us that this coincidence of pedestrians was about to occur.

I had the Scotch bottles in a tote bag in my left hand, and the beer cans were in a backpack that I was carrying upright by a convenient strap handle that I had gripped in my right hand. The man with the dog was at my right as well.

The enormous dog immediately erupted into a slathering, snarling lunge, its open jaws so wide that it appeared they could have encompassed my entire head. Fortunately, my pack was betwixt the beast and myself.

Oddly, despite some surprise, I was not as shocked or startled as I would normally have been ─ I most certainly would have reacted in extreme distress in the past, even if I was not displaying it.

The monstrous dog could not reach my body because the pack was something of a barrier between us, and its handler was struggling to reign the beast in.

I never paused or showed any sort of reaction as I kept my easy pace onward, and actually said softly in a sarcastic manner, "Lovely. Just ... fucking ... lovely."

As I passed between the first young man (who was essentially now walking backwards) and his companion with the dog, and I steadily proceeded on with the same slow pace that I had been using all along, I heard him say to the dog-handler, "I knew something like that was going to happen."     

By this time my back was to the trio, but I could hear the monstrous dog still viciously choking and slathering in its insanity to get at me. 

I honestly have no idea why I was so inexplicably calm throughout this encounter ─ I never would have been so in my past.

Curiously, of late before this I had been thinking a lot about dog attacks, and what might be the best defence in a life-and-death situation. I have wondered if maybe the thing to try and immediately do would be to somehow break one of the forelegs of an attacking dog instead of just wildly lashing out with a defensive kick.

Break one of its legs, and its attack is over. I think that I had even been musing on this scenario earlier in my hike.

In the case of my real experience, however, I was in no position to deliver any such blow. Nevertheless, perhaps I somehow still had some confidence and did not feel completely powerless despite being 71 years old.

What the experience has done, nevertheless, is make me realize that it is best to have some devastatingly effective weapon or two. Say, something with which to swing and break bones; and also maybe a large blade such as the "Guardian" machete that you can read about here and here. 

I have wanted to own that very blade for several years, but it is very expensive ─ and I am Canadian, so those U.S. dollars would be much, much higher after being converted into Canadian dollars.

Unfortunately, even if I could afford the Guardian, I could hardly be bearing it about without immediately being confronted by the police every time I went anywhere. And I sure could not be walking into a store with the thing strapped to my back.   

Yet if I had some bone-breaking device and a smaller deadly knife for close-quarters deployment if ever need be, that would be perfectly acceptable.

After that experience with the pitbull yesterday, I am going to be more serious about acquiring first some effective bone-breaker, and then I will look into knives. As long as I can in short order break some attacking dog's leg with something I was carrying for that purpose, I could thereafter do with the beast as I pleased ─ even batter it into oblivion.

Any irresponsible dog owner who forces me into such an action had better not interfere! 

I conclude this unpleasant dog talk with this cute dog cartoon:

Anyway, so much for yesterday's walk. I later celebrated the outing with two cans of that strong beer.

It is so damned hot! Google claims that here in Surrey where I live, at 6 p.m. today it was 37º Celsius, or 98.6º Fahrenheit. Sleep is practically unattainable for any length of time.

Even so, I put in some sunning this afternoon after an abbreviated exercise session in the backyard toolshed. It was so sweltering in that shed that just climbing up to where I could grasp the bars I use for pull-ups / chin-ups, reaching up to grasp those bars immediately started the backs of my hands and my arms to bead with perspiration. And the bars were hot!

That was without even attempting a pull-up! This is ridiculous.

Yet I sunned afterwards. Beginning at 2:25 p.m., well over a half hour for my back, and then well over another half hour for my front, all while wearing just a pair of swimming trunks.

My brother had gone for the afternoon by then, but my wife was home dutifully preparing a meal for us all. And then around 4:00 p.m. or so, she left us ─ probably to go in to Vancouver. I don't expect her back until tomorrow or Monday (such is our sorry marriage).

It is presently approaching 7 p.m., and I have just put two cans of that strong beer into the fridge freezer. I normally drink my beer at room temperature, but I have a pronounced hankering for cold brews this evening.

And with that said, I am going to bring this post to a close.

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Continuing Genealogical Standstill

The sunshine and heat continues. And rather bizarrely, I saw a news item this morning on T.V. warning that there was a heat wave on its way to parts of the province ─ is it not already here?

I spent my usual hours overnight working here at my computer after logging in most of the latter evening as time in bed. I think that it was something like 12:18 a.m. when I checked the time and decided to get up and come here to my computer.

One of my last acts before returning to bed was the watering of the front yard garden plants, but by then it was daylit. I was probably back to bed around 5:30 a.m.

My official morning start was around 9:30 a.m. when I next checked the time and rose, expecting to find my younger brother downstairs watching T.V. But he was not yet even up.

However, that soon enough developed.

I joined him around 10 a.m. to watch some T.V., and soon had our Android TV Box in action. I led things off with Odessa Orlewicz's latest video: June 23-Clinton Campaign Official Jailed For Secxz With Children & Bil C-10 Update and More!

It was nearly an hour long, but I had to pause the programme for at least 15 minutes because the 'widow next door' ─ who is about to move away ─ came to the door and my brother volunteered himself to help at least three other guys she had assisting her to move some large metal contraption.

The woman had actually come seeking my eldest stepson ─ the 26-year-old is very brawny. However, as my brother informed the lady, the lad has an afternoon shift and was not yet up from bed.

Naturally, after my brother volunteered himself and left, my eldest stepson suddenly came into the kitchen, finally up for the day.

After my brother returned and we finished watching the video, we only had time enough for an episode of Black Sails, and then my brother sought some bed rest ere heading away for the afternoon to eventually resume his daily drinking somewhere.  

I am still involved in E-mail exchanges with my Edmonton cousin Doug regarding family lineage, and most especially the absence of proof of the parentage of our great grandmother Sarah Anne née Bird.

I even composed a lengthy message and sent it off to a certain Stan H. who was doing his best to help, but whom I have not heard from in a week or more. I sent him my recent research involving my great grandfather, and how I was able to trace his lineage all the way back to an ancestor born around 1585 in France.

Why, I rhetorically asked in exasperation, is such a thing possible, yet we cannot validate the parents of my great grandmother from the latter 1800s, fully three centuries later in the province of Manitoba? Heck, as my cousin Doug said in a message from yesterday (and note that Andrew McDermot is supposedly our great grandmother's grandfather):

I was digging more into that Mormon site, familysearch.org , and I found the listings for Andrew McDermot and all of his kids. So I checked every one of them. And I checked all the Birds. Ellen and Thomas Bird do not have a child named Sarah listed, nor do any of the other Birds. I don't understand how Sarah could have been Andrew's granddaughter unless she was illegitimate and not listed or registered. Literally hundreds of McDermot's and Bird's, but no Sarah.

And the Manitoba records link from the Metis site has free access to birth records from more than 100 years ago. When I search for Sarah, 'no records found'..... Her census reporting says she was born in Winnipeg in 1862. But neither Manitoba or Red River has any record of her. It makes no sense. Unless she is simply not registered.

As I said to Stan H. in my message today, we are only spinning our wheels despite how comparatively recently the woman lived, in relation to how far back I was able to trace my paternal line.

Anyway, with such another sunny day, I got in further backyard sunning ─ beginning shortly before 3 p.m., just over a half hour each for both my back and then my front while attired in just a pair of swimming trunks.

I had my day's first meal after that, and then I soon needed to lie down in darkness and surrender to some very deep rest.

Upon rising, I have since dealt with an Angus Reid poll, and then I started work on this post. It is now working its way towards 7:30 p.m., so I wish to stop blogging for the day and enjoy a beer and a little T.V.

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Camping Weather ... Apparently

I fared poorly during the latter evening yesterday, seeking to gain some restorative sleep to fortify me for the several hours that I was likely to be sitting up overnight working on a few projects here at my computer.

My wife had worked that day at her friend's Thai restaurant, and I was to have my peace disturbed after her homecoming as I attempted sleep. She came into the bedroom a couple of times for rather prolonged periods, fussing about. I think she was even putting away some laundry.

I usually wear a bandana blindfold, and that was the case last evening.

When she vacated the bedroom, I took a check of the time, and was quite disappointed to discover that it was only 11 p.m.

I finally decided to just get up and dress.

While I was doing so, she returned, and it was then that I learned that she was about to head off to go "camping", and would be back on Thursday.

I admit that this caused me some hurt ─ that she would simply waltz off like that with no explanation beforehand. At least she was not taking her car ─ she had one of her sons use it to drive her to whomever she was probably going "camping" with.

I did my best thereafter to weather the disappointment, and remained up until maybe 4:30 a.m. before returning to bed for some further sleep.

My actual morning was to commence around 8:30 a.m.; and by 10 a.m. I had joined my younger brother downstairs to watch some T.V. via our Android TV Box which I exclusively operate. I led things off with Odessa Orlewicz's latest video: June 22- I Interview The Team Putting On The Sunset Beach July 1 Event.  

I honestly do not much feel like blogging, so I am going to bring this post to a quick close. I will only add that I never did have an afternoon nap; and I did some afternoon backyard sunning while attired in a pair of swimming trunks ─ just over a half hour each for my back and then my front, beginning at 3:28 p.m.

I never had my day's first meal until afterwards.

If not for some E-mail correspondence that consumed my time after that, I probably would have sought a nap.

Anyway, it is already 7:17 p.m. as I type these words. I want to have a can of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) and maybe a wee bit of wine, and catch some T.V. before having another early evening of things. I ought to sleep better this time, since I am more tired, and I know that my wife will not be showing up later to disrupt any sleep I might be enjoying.

Debunking a Family Origin Tradition

My wife arrived home early last evening while I was watching some T.V. and unwinding with two cans of strong Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) that I then followed with a decent helping of red wine.

Although I was to get to bed very shortly after 9 p.m. (and very soon after the arrival home of my younger brother from wherever he had been drinking), the combination of so much alcohol consumed in such a short time, combined with the overall stress of the four-mile round-trip hike in the Summer heat that I had undertaken to get to the nearest government liquor store ─ an excursion made in the latter afternoon ─ seemed to have resulted in an especially debilitating hangover that is still with me.

Even so, things might have been different if only I had slept the night through instead of rising late in the midnight hour and sitting up overnight until nigh 5:20 a.m. ere getting myself back to bed.

It was clear in all that while that I was unwell, but I am quite the slave to self-imposed duty.

I was to remain in bed until around 9:30 a.m., but I was not recovered. Nevertheless, I did join my brother downstairs at 10 a.m. to soon put our Android TV Box into action to watch some shows together, beginning with Odessa Orlewicz's latest video: June 21 - THe WHO says what still?? WTF is going on?! WHO says not for kids still !

My brother and I watched T.V. together until 12:40 p.m., and then he got himself ready to head off for a haircut and to spend the afternoon away elsewhere, ultimately to re-engage his daily drinking.

This has been our third scorching hot Summer day, but I was too seriously in need of some further time in bed in the early afternoon to be able to both tackle the day's scheduled exercising and to then do any sunning. Right now as I type these words it is 3:18 p.m., and I do still intend to at least exercise, but I am first having one of my sustaining and very rich, hot caffeinated beverages.

My wife had to work the full day today at her friend's Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time, so she rose soon after I did this morning, and was away on her drive in plenty of time to make her 11 a.m. start.

One of the tasks that kept me up overnight was a researched response to an E-mail from my Edmonton cousin Doug. He, I, and another relation of ours who is named Danae have been trying to verify that our great grandmother Sarah Anne Bird's parents are Thomas Bird and Ellen McDermot.

Thomas Bird would be a son of James Curtis Bird, and Ellen or Helen or Helena McDermot is a daughter of Andrew McDermot. One would think that verifying that the children of two such fairly well-known men yielded a daughter named Sarah Anne would be simple enough, but we have had no success despite enlisting outside aid in our enterprise these past couple of months. 

Doug and I know enough about our great grandfather George Barcelo, Sarah Anne Bird's eventual husband, but none of the family genealogists ever seemed to have taken an intense look at her.

Doug and I recently discovered ─ and none of our family seemed to be aware of this ─ that Sarah Anne Bird was born with plenty of Indigenous blood. Her grandmother Sarah McNab ─ who became wife of Andrew McDermot ─ was Métis. 

And if Thomas Bird is Sarah Anne Bird's father and also the son of James Curtis Bird, then Thomas was also Métis because James Curtis Bird quite liberally 'fraternized' with Indigenous gals. One possible mother of Thomas was Métis, and another a full-blooded (I believe) Salteaux.   

So establishing these facts about just who are Sarah Anne Bird's parents is what has Doug and I so consumed.

Ever since I was a boy, I have known something of the 'legend' behind my family name. Paternally speaking, our ancestor(s) came to North America from what was always believed to have been Barcelona, Spain; and my father was quite proud of this 'Conquistador' connection. 

But beyond even that, the family legend extended us all the way back to ancient Carthage, and claimed that we are descendants of the famous Barca clan (Hannibal was the most famous member). It was proposed that because the Barcas were so heavily involved in colonizing the western Mediterranean, that the city of Barcelona owes its origin and even its naming to them.

In effect, our ancestors had almost the status of royalty.

Well, that would be nice if it could be proven, but of course it cannot.

However, what got me involved last night was this message from Doug:

I tried accessing the resources on the Alberta Metis site and ran into a bunch of brick walls. Perhaps I'll try calling them in a day or two when I have more energy.

The Mormon site, familysearch.org , goes waaaaay back to the 1200s in Germany on the Dunlap side, but the Barcelo/Bird lineage ends at George/Sarah. I'm actually surprised that it doesn't go back to Quebec for George, since all those Barcelos were likely registered with the Catholic church.

Danae said something about George, or George's father, being disinherited because their Great Grandfather, the king of Spain decreed that their marriage to a non-Catholic Native broke the family lineage. I don't know where she got that, because when I talked to her mother, Judy, she was unaware of any Native connection. Perhaps it came from cousin Diane. I know Danae is talking to her. So she is suggesting that there is a 3rd Native bloodline. The first being that Sarah McNab, who married Andrew McDermot, was the daughter of Mary Jane Indigenous, who was the full blooded and only daughter of the Ojibwa Great Chief Buffalo. The 2nd line being that perhaps Thomas Bird was the son of Mary (Swampy Cree Woman). The third being that George's father married a Native, perhaps making George a half breed.

I don't know how much of this is accurate. But I'll keep digging. And no, I don't have a library card.

Well, I made an initial response to that message, and ended with this:

The King of Spain as a great grandfather of George or maybe Oscar? I'll save comment for now.

I later responded with this:

Doug, I advanced upwards from Oscar Barcelo for at least five generations ─ so that would have been to his great great great grandfather at very minimum.

No King of Spain.

Here's the Google Translate of where I ended up ─ a Jean Barsalou for whom there is no further data.

But notice that his son Gerard was born in France in 1673, but died in Montreal? Perhaps he's the guy who made the original leap to North America?

And if so, then that might be why there is no record of his father beyond the name Jean Barsalou because it has been too arduous from a genealogical perspective to learn anything at all about the guy's father ─ not even the town or date of birth. Ditto the mother. And both of their names sound more French than Spanish to me, so they were likely born in France too.

Gerard Barsalou probably had to list the names of his parents for sundry legal reasons after he came to North America, but no background on them was required. And now there is none.

Or that's my speculation.

No, I don't see a direct Spanish king connection ─ if there was, then what king? Why isn't that known? ─ surely that sort of detail can't have been lost!

Besides, Wikipedia doesn't show any family names for Spanish kings as being anything like Barcelo. It could only have been a spin off from a daughter, and that probably leaves us far out in the cold because there's still a living Bourbon descendant today.

Granted, it's not as far-fetched as my father's belief that we're direct descendants of the famous Barca clan of Carthage, but ... well, 'the proof is in the pudding', and 'seeing's believing', to throw out a couple of apt phrases.

There may just be a lot of fictitious wishful thinking going on over the years.

If there is any royalty, it was probably less imposing, like maybe someone from the line of counts of Barcelona (there was even a dynasty called the House of Barcelona).

But if we have a direct ancestor named Jean Barsalou who was likely born in France sometime in the first half of the 1600s, it seems to me unlikely that we can claim royal Spanish lineage. It's going to be impossibly diluted ─ all bled out, if you will.

I've always wanted to be a proven descendant of the Carthaginian Barca clan!

But I was not yet done. This was what I busied myself with overnight:

It seems I was right, Doug!

I found this:

The first Barsalou to come to North America was Gérard Barsalou ─ Jean Barsalou and Hélène Lamarque's son.

Gérard Barsalou was born on May 10, 1673 at Agen, Lot-et-Garonne France and died August, 8 1721 in St-Laurent, New France. He married Marie-Catherine Legras-Lalonguealle on May 6, 1700 in Montréal, New France.

Marie-Catherine Legras-Lalonguealle was born April 9, 1684 Montréal, New France. She died on February 5, 1737 in Montréal, New France.

Gérard Barsalou and Marie-Catherine Legras-Lalonguealle had fifteen children: Jean Barsalou, Joseph Barsalou; Jean-Francois Barsalou; Marie-Catherine Barsalou; Jean-Baptiste-Barsalou; Geneviève-Catherine Barsalou; Marie-Charlotte Barsalou; Gérard-Maurice Barsalou; Angélique-Catherine Barsalou; Ignace Barsalou; René-Jean-Marie Barsalou; Marie-Louise Barsalou; Jean-Francois Barsalou; Marie-Josephe Barsalou and Jacques Barsalou.      

Jean Joseph Gerard Barsalou (March 3, 1703) ─ one of the sons of Gérard, and who was apparently named after Gérard's father ─ is our direct ancestor.

Young Jean begat Jean Francois Barsalou (August 28, 1724).

Jean Francois Barsalou begat Louis Barsalou (January 10, 1767).

Louis Barsalou begat Jacob Barsalou (sometime in 1789).

And Jacob Barsalou sired Oscar Adolphe Barcelo ─ George Barcelo's father ─ on April 18, 1819. Oscar apparently changed the family surname.

But let’s now trace back (or above) Gérard Barsalou, the first Barcelo to come to North America. As noted earlier, he was the son of Jean Barsalou and Hélène Lamarque.

I’m going to start at the remotest known Barcelo (Barsalou). I am only bolding the names of our direct ancestors (male and female), so feel free to skip past lineages that don’t contain a bold name.

The first Barsalou was named Salvi-Salvy Barsalou and was born circa 1585 in France. No one has yet found the name of his wife nor where and when he got married. Salvi-Salvy had only one known son called Joseph Barsalou born circa 1600 in France and died February 28, 1659 at Foulayronne, Fromenty, Lot-et-Garonne, France.

Joseph Barsalou was firstly married to Francoise Valade in 1622 at Ste-Foye, Agen, Lot-et-Garonne. Francoise was born in 1602 and died in 1632 in France. Joseph Barsalou and Francoise Valade had three children: 1) Louise was born circa 1620 in France. She fistly married Jean-Guillaume Brugières and secondly to Jean Miramont. The marriage between Louise Barsalou and Jean Miramont happenned after her father had passed away. 2) Jeanne was born circa 1622 in France. She married Bernard Boutoute. 3) Pierre was born circa 1623 in France. He married Peyronne Amouroux. They had five children: Catherine Barsalou, Guillaume Barsalou, Magdalaine Barsalou, Marie Barsalou and Peyronne Barsalou.

Joseph Barsalou secondly married Catherine Cominal in October 23rd, 1634 at Artigues, Foulayronnes, Lot-et-Garrone in France. Catherine was born in 1614 and died on 1665 in France. Joseph Barsalou and Catherine Cominal had five children: 1) Bernard Barsalou was born circa 1636 in France. He was married to Jeanne Constan in France; 2) Guillaume Barsalou was born circa 1638 at Foulayronne, Lot-et-Garonne, Guyenne, France. He died as of February 23, 1711 in France.

Guillaume Barsalou married Bernarde Duparier and had nine children: Catherine Barsalou; Claire Barsalou; Jean Barsalou; Bernard Barsalou; Francois Barsalou; Hélène Barsalou; Raymond Barsalou, Antoine Barsalou and Jean-Pierre Barsalou. Antoine Barsalou was born circa 1640 at Foylayronne, Lot-et-Garonne, Guyenne, France; Francois Barsalou was born circa 1646 in France.

Francois Barsalou was firstly married to a Marie, there is no known last name. He and Marie had one child named Catherine Barsalou.

Francois Barsalou was secondly married to Jeanne Delamas; Jean Barsalou was born circa 1648 at Agen, Lot-et-Garonne, Guyenne in France.

Jean Barsalou was married to Hélène Lamarque on July 12, 1671 at Agen, Lot-et-Garonne, France.

Jean Barsalou and Hélène Lamarque had five children: Gérard Barsalou; Guillaume Barsalou; Jeanne Barsalou; Marie-Anne Barsalou and Thérèse Barsalou.

And that of course brings us to emigrant-to-Canada, Gérard Barsalou.

There were a lot of confusing first and second marriages in that history, and the various names of children that would not directly lead to us, but like I said before, I tried to just bold the relevant biological players who would have been responsible for our existence.

It’s still bloody confusing, and I might have messed up. I have a hangover ─ I drank a little too much last evening.

And with that, I believe that I essentially demolished the family legend of a royal Spanish connection. If there is one, then it had to have been centuries earlier; but certainly, there was no king of Spain who was a great grandather to our great grandfather George or his father Oscar in the latter 1700s or early 1800s.

oooooooooooooo

It is now 6:13 p.m., and I took a break to dispose of that bit of exercise ─ I actually performed quite well. And then, beginning at 4:48 p.m., I managed to accrue just over 40 minutes sunning my front in the backyard while attired in a pair of swimming trunks.

Before going outside, I weighed in at 178 pounds. Yesterday I believe that I was 179 pounds.

I ought to mention that after I got home late yesterday afternoon with my liquor store purchases, my youngest stepson transferred over to me $50 ─ it was his conscience kicking in over not having done anything on my behalf this past Sunday, Father's Day.  

My wife, however, did acknowledge me that day even if her two sons did not. At 7:14 p.m. she texted:

Happy Father's Day

And included with the text were three emojis ─ the first must not have been recognized by my phone, for it was simply a question mark within a square. However, the other two were a bouquet and a pair of wine glasses clinking together.

I responded back:

Oh you sweetheart!

Then at 8:56 p.m. she texted me again:

Thank you for everything

This time her emojis were that question mark in the square again, as well as a pair of hands clasped in supplication. 

She can be quite thoughtful at times even if our marriage is sorry.

The final thing I want to mention today is the report about some Florida parents who recently sent six of their kids' face masks to a University of Florida lab to have them tested for pathogens.

Are you a parent who has one or more kids that you insist have to wear face masks? 

If so, then pay heed.

The six masks in the article had been worn by children aged between six to 11 for a period of time ranging from five to eight hours; and all of the masks prior to use were either never worn before, or else they had been freshly laundered. 

What did the lab find?

See for youself ─ if your head isn't too deeply buried in the sand that you just don't want to know. The article was published on June 16: Dangerous pathogens found on children’s face masks.

Okay, I'm in the mood for just one can of that strong beer and a little television; I'm also rather looking forward to having myself an early bedtime.

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Another Blazing Hot Day!

All I have time for is this wee report.

I headed off at 4:23 p.m. this afternoon on the four-mile round trip hike to the government liquor store for two dozen cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer ─ it's Cariboo Malt, incidentally; and a 4-litre box of Domain D'Or Red wine.

My face was already drenched with perspiration by just walking to the liquor store ─ the return trip was almost like a sauna bath. It was 5:55 p.m. by the time I was into the house and upstairs with my purchases.

But I seem to have recovered, so it looks as if this 71-year-old will be around a while longer.

I arrived back with my youngest stepson right behind me ─ I never even noticed him trailing along. He must have bused home after working the day. I hadn't even set down my two packs so that I could unlock the front door when he heaved into view, cutting across the lawn.

Anyway, no exercising or backyard sunning for me today, but I sure did atone for that omission!

Now to have one of those beers and watch some T.V.

💀☠💀☠💀☠ A Blazing Hot Day

I am only posting to make record of my failure this day to do that which I ought, rather than that which I ought not.

At least I only wasted the early afternoon, and from 3:26 p.m. put in well over a half hour of sunning for each of my front and my back while attired in a pair of bathing trunks.

There is much more I would like to report on concerning today, but I threw away the time, as already cited.

But that's enough said for today ─ I am too sick of myself to be blogging.

Four Worthy Videos ─ Wake up, People!

Following yesterday's latter evening nap ─ which was possibly disturbed by my wife's intrusion into the bedroom, for she had gotten home at some point during that nap and following her full workday at her friend's Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time ─ I was aware of having had a rather unsettling experience just prior to coming fully awake.

I had actually experienced an attack of sleep paralysis.

I had been lying on my stomach, and the point had arrived where I was having difficulty breathing. I was right at the edge of the bed at the time. 

It may be that I was even experiencing some sleep apnea; but whatever the case, the breathing difficulty was such that there was a twinge of panic associated with the realization that I needed to turn over to reduce the restriction of my breathing, but I was not able to activate my body ─ my arms ─ to achieve that change of position. 

My legs were too weak to move ─ or rather, I had no strength to effect such a feat of such large body parts. An arm was my sole hope.

I remember quelling the panic, and then concentrating on trying to fully focus on the activation of muscle control to get one of my arms functioning, or to even manage to ease myself over the edge of the bed and thus drop over to the floor.

And then it may have been right around that point that my wife burst into the bedroom to fetch something. When she got whatever it was that she was after and vacated the bedroom, I was fully aware and found that I was no longer in the grip of that most unpleasant loss of control over my own body.

A check of the time revealed it to be midnight, so I rose to dress. My younger brother had already retired to his bedroom for the night.

My wife was apparently having some wine, so she was in no great rush to seek bed for the night. However, I outlasted her, and remained up until maybe 4:45 a.m., achieving a fair amount of work here at my computer.

I would even have gone outside and watered the front yard garden plants, but my eldest stepson actually outlasted me and was still up when I resigned myself to returning to bed with that task undone. I just didn't feel like any social engagement with the lad who was most likely seated at the dining table watching a movie or something on a laptop.

I managed to remain in bed until around 9:30 a.m., but I am not by any means making any claim to having been enjoying a solid and peaceful sleep in all that while.

When I rose, I came here to my computer until maybe 10:15 a.m., and then went downstairs to the kitchen to boil water for a black and unsweetened instant coffee, fully intending to watch some T.V. (via our Android TV Box) with my brother.

I quickly learned that any such activity was going to have to wait ─ he was about to ready and head away to get a haircut.

As a result, we got a considerably later start than usual watching shows together. 

And so once he was back, the first thing I was to tune in was a 38-minute YouTube video that actually had some touching moments during the testimonies made by one or two of the three doctors who were each given an opportunity to give their stories: MP Derek Sloan raises concerns about censorship of doctors and scientists – June 17, 2021.    

I followed that video with Odessa Orlewicz's latest effort: June 18 -The Smoking Gun & Tam Found In "Contempt Of The House Of Commons" And Much More. That video was an hour and nine minutes in duration. 

When that one was finished, I fully expected that my brother would seek some bed rest, but I was wrong; and so I tuned in one final video: Reiner Fuellmich (June 9, 2021) Interview - Worldwide Legal cases & what's coming this Fall & Winter.

That video was 40 minutes long, and may well have brought us to at least 2:00 p.m., at which time my brother finally sought some rest before heading away for the afternoon.

While he was resting, my wife also left ─ just after 2:15 p.m. As she did so, she announced that she would be away until sometime on Monday.

She normally spends most of her weekends somewhere in Vancouver (such is our sorry marriage). 

Note that the video source that I linked to above for that final video may not be the very one that my brother and I watched, for I simply happened upon a link for the unplanned feature while scrolling through the latest posts at Librti.com when I realized that my brother was still intending to watch some T.V. following the finish of Odessa Orlewicz's video. 

One final video ─ it is only 11 minutes in length ─ that I would like to link to is described thus:  "The first goal is to reduce the population numbers on Earth. That is the Satanic goal": Russian GRU officer on the purpose of the COVID crisis:

• Russian Army Officer: The Depopulation Programme Is Real

It is Russian, subtitled in English, and is an interview from back on March 25, 2020 with "Former Colonel of Military Intelligence Service (GRU) Vladimir Kvachkov". 

If the translation and the identification of the interviewee is true, then this man knew back at the outbreak of the plandemic / scamdemic / casedemic that this was never about a virus at all, but was instead something deliberate that can only accurately be labelled as 'pure evil'.  

If you have bought into it, and have even submitted to getting 'vaccinated', then you have been seduced and are in bed with Satanic forces. 

I will say nothing more on the topic.

Today has been a respite from any sunning, for the sky has been thickly hazed over or even overcast with so much light cloud that the sunlight seldom appears. 

But that suits me for today, I think. With my brother and wife home in the early afternoon, I was not inclined to be doing any sunning. Also, I was short on sleep, and needed to have a latter afternoon nap once I finally had my first meal of the day.

Anyway, my evening is well upon me, so I am going to close here so that I can have a beer and watch some T.V. ere my brother returns home later this evening.

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Finally Sampling Star Trek Continues

It seems to me that although I may have sought yesterday's latter evening bedtime soon enough after 9 p.m., it was not until around 1 a.m. that I next checked the time and hurriedly rose. Some of my concern was that I would be unable to find the time to add as much content into the post draft that I have had in progress for a few weeks now at one of my two hosted websites, and this was to prove true.

My wife was still up, but she soon enough sought bed for the night. As is usual for a Friday, today was to be a full working day for her at her friend's Thai restaurant where my wife is employed part-time.

By the way, before I proceed any further, I want to mention that two days ago, her eldest stepson let me know that he had transferred $1,000 into my chequing account as his and his younger brother's contribution towards both the annual home insurance that I had paid on June 14th, and the upcoming monthly mortgage that will most likely be debited from that account on June 22nd.

I had recently written here that I had gotten no contribution towards the home insurance, apart from a cheque my younger brother had written out to me for a third of the actual billing. I have yet to deposit that cheque; when I do, I will then likely kick back a little of my brother's contribution.

Or maybe not. I have just now done the math. All that remains of the boys' $1,000 contribution once I factor in both the figure that they of late often collectively contribute towards the monthly mortgage, added onto the 'thirding' of the annual home insurance, is $19.33.

I might as well just reconcile that the lads contributed $19.33 over or above what they usually offer to me towards the mortgage.

And I reckon 'that is that', as the saying goes. 

Next up: the annual property taxes that are due a day or two into July. That bill is monstrous, having jumped $411.53 above what it was last year, despite what our lying mayor Doug McCallum earlier tried to claim to Surrey homeowners was to be taking place with these taxes (i.e., a 2.9% increase, on average) ─ the following two articles are from PeaceArchNews.com and dated June 7 and June 8 respectively:

• Huge increases in property taxes gobsmack Surrey business owners 
• Surrey residents criticize ‘smoke-and-mirrors’ property tax hike   

Whether or not there are various taxes within the umbrella term 'property tax' is irrelevant ─ citizens do not readily realize nor understand that essentially niggling distinction. We get a single annual bill that is deemed to be 'property taxes' in an overall or collective sense, no matter what comprises that total.

Thus, claiming that our 'property taxes' would only be going up an average of 2.9% when in truth the overall bill would see ─ in our property's case ─ a leap of 13.28% is the only math that matters to me.

I am so fed up with prevaricating / deceptive claims like Doug McCallum's.

But returning to my overnight vigil, I of course do much more than just work on a website post draft. And so as a result, it was perhaps 5:30 a.m. before I returned to bed for a little further sleep.

I remained abed until around 9:30 a.m., at which time my brother was of course downstairs watching T.V. And when I joined him at 10 a.m., it was not long before I put our Android TV Box into action and led off our viewing with a Liberty Coalition Canada video: Interview With Pathologist, Roger Hodkinson. 

We were only to watch one further show ─ the first episode of Star Trek Continues, an episode titled “Pilgrim of Eternity”. I did not know so when I tuned in the episode, but I quickly understood that the actor portraying the episode's aged central character (the god Apollo) also portrayed the same character back in the latter 1960s in the original Star Trek series when actor Michael Forest was a younger man, as was Apollo back then.

I still vaguely remember that original episode titled "Who Mourns for Adonais?" The new series is practically like watching a final lost season of the original series ─ I definitely like it. 

Anyway, that Star Trek Continues premiere episode took my brother and I to noon, and that was when he announced that he was going to seek a little further bed rest ere taking off for the afternoon.

Note that my wife ─ who is legally able to drive again as of Wednesday afternoon when she paid the fine to have her driver's licence reinstated following a three-month driving prohibition ─ left us around 10:45 a.m. When she had not yet emerged from our bedroom at 10:20 a.m., I went upstairs to check on her, but she had already risen on her own.

Will she come home after work this evening?

She has been doing so ever since her driving prohibition, but it was atypical for her to be doing so. When she drove, she generally headed directly on in to wherever it is in Vancouver that she spends her weekends (such is our sorry marriage). 

So will that pattern now resume?

Or will she show up here after work and spend the night as she has been these past few months, not leaving for Vancouver until tomorrow afternoon or early evening?

I have no idea.

But returning to the noon hour, my brother never bothered napping. By 12:30 p.m. I could hear him freshening up as he readied for his departure to eventually resume his daily drinking somewhere. I found myself sufficiently weary, however, that just after 12:30 p.m. I returned to my own bedroom for something over an hour in bed, and thus I was not witness to his departure.

This nap got me a late start at sunning, for it was six or seven minutes after 3 p.m. before I began doing so ─ over a half hour each sunning both my back and then my front whilst attired in just a pair of bathing trunks.

The sky was somewhat hazed over, so conditions were not as intense as they likely would otherwise have been.

I finally had my first meal of the day thereafter, but it overloaded me and I had little recourse but to lie down ─ this time fully clothed ─ for another hour or a wee bit more to allow the meal to settle somewhat. Also, my eyes needed the rest after being outside.

But it is now already after 7:30 p.m., so I must conclude this post. I want to watch a little T.V. while enjoying a can of strong (8% alcohol) beer. My supper will be very light.

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Alex Cosh

I now realize that my contention in yesterday's post was wrong ─ that is, that my wife is yet unable to drive because her driver's licence is being mailed to her following payment yesterday of the restoration of that licensure upon the completion of her three-month driving prohibition.  

She was surely given some interim document allowing her to drive until the arrival of her official permit.

And so it was this morning that she had risen and exited our bedroom at 8:30 a.m. to ready herself for some special outing that saw her looking beautiful in a long Thai-designed dress. My guess is that she had some function to attend at the Thai Buddhist temple in Burnaby. Officially, the temple is the Buddapanyanuntarama Buddhist Monastery.

I don't believe that it has a website, but this is its official Facebook account.

Anyway, my wife left around 9 a.m. at latest, and never returned for about four hours.

This has been a gorgeously sunny day, I must say. I put in over a half hour each of the sunning of my back and then my front, all the while clothed in naught but a pair of bathing trunks. That session began at 1:56 p.m., which is especially early.

When I was watching T.V. earlier with my brother, it did not seem possible that I would be able to first handle the exercise session scheduled for today out in the backyard toolshed, for I felt in need of a nap, and I also felt 'stiff and sore' as if from overtraining.

Yet after one of my sumptuous hot caffeinated beverages, I performed at least as well as my best showing thus far on my current toolshed regimen which I have been following now since possibly before the end of the past year.

That was delightfully unexpected.

And when I weighed myself following the sunning while stripped right down, I never weighed any more than around 179 pounds. If I am allowed to say so, I was looking darned buff ─ even for someone far younger than my 71 years.

This post is going to be short due to having my wife home. However, before I sign off, I want to mention the Odessa Orlewicz video that I spoke of in yesterday's post in which she criticized a phony sensationalist young 'journalist' named Alex Cosh for having no scruples.

Well, it seems that the crybaby ─ Odessa attacked him because he was smearing a mother involved in a petition to have schools remove their face mask mandates here in BC ─ then ran bawling to Facebook and got Odessa banned from posting there for 30 days.  

What a damned limp dick.

My Wife's Three-Month Driving Prohibition Has Ended ... but She's Not Yet Quite Able to Get Back on the Road

Today's post is just a quickie update.

My wife never had to work today, so she has been home ─ apart from just after noon when she had her youngest son drive her to an ICBC office (Google Map) so that she could have her driver's licence reinstated now that her three-month driving prohibition has expired nearly a week ago.

Her eldest son had loaned her his VISA card to pay the penalty ─ something like $731, if I am remembering correctly. However, it appears that her youngest son will continue to get use of her car for a time yet ─ he has been using it these past three months.

It seems that although the driving prohibition is now officially lifted, her actual driving documentation will be mailed to her. Thus, she cannot yet be on the road and behind the wheel. So who knows? Maybe the 23-year-old will be driving for as much as another week!

The day has been a mix of Sun and cloud. I sat out in the backyard for just over 40 minutes this afternoon beginning at 2:35 p.m. to do some sunning. But I was only barefooted and shirtless ─ I still had on a pair of jeans. I hadn't expected it to be as warm as it turned out to be ─ I could have been in shorts quite easily.

Even so, I didn't get much over a half hour of full sunshine due to passing cloud.

The final item I wish to mention is the video that my younger brother and I watched two days ago ─ it was Odessa Orlewicz's latest to that point, and just over 45 minutes in duration: June 14- Exposing Alex Cosh-Admitted Communist & Marxist And Other News Of The Week.

It had some interesting information. And from what Odessa had to say about this Alex Cosh, he warranted her condemnation ─ he is supposedly a young journalist, but he clearly seems only interested in sensationalist reporting and not the accurate telling of just the facts.

I cannot help now but wonder how well he can take being 'muckraked'. Will he prove just a crybaby?

💀☠💀☠💀☠ Yesterday's 'Western'

In my post yesterday, I expressed my intention to try and watch a movie that I had originally planned to watch with my younger brother, but which he said he had already recently watched on his own.

Well, I was able to watch it in its entirety early last evening, drinking two cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer as I did so. My wife was even home ─ she arrived when I was quite early into the movie.

To end any suspense, the movie was 2017's O Matador ─ better known in English as The Killer.

It kept one's interest, but there wasn't a main male character who was 'good'. The main character ("Shaggy") named himself because he had been raised in the desert by a killer who had found him about to be eaten by a cougar when "Shaggy" was a mere squalling baby. However, "Shaggy" was left on his own when he was likely a pre-teen when the killer ─ only known as "Seven Ears" ─ made one of his solitary day-and-a-half trips to the nearest town and then never came back.

So the boy waited until he was a man well into his 20s before he finally went in search of "Seven Ears" at the lawless town where "Shaggy" knew "Seven Ears" always went.

"Shaggy" had absolutely no morals because "Seven Ears" never bothered to let him know a thing about Christianity ─ he only taught him how to survive and be an efficient killer.

"Shaggy" easily killed people, but he drew the line at women and children ─ he just didn't happen to form attachments with them. However, he learned that precious stones had value ─ and they were especially valuable when it came to whoring, something he truly became addicted to.

I don't want to go on talking about the plot, suffice to say that the whole storyline revolved around its telling by a young man with two small boys off in the desert wilderness who seemed to have fallen to the mercies of a pair of very hard armed men who found the story entertaining ─ this was the basis for the tale.

One got the impression that only the story-telling was keeping the young man and the two little boys from coming to harm by the gunslinger-type desperados caught up in the tale.

"Shaggy" reminded me somewhat of the retarded Jesus character in the Preacher T.V. series. His dental work and mouth had that same 'retarded' look ─ like he was slack-jawed or open-mouthed and basically simple. 

Actually, there were a few people who either were like that, or else who looked very similar to being so.

Anyway, "Shaggy" ultimately learns that "Seven Ears" was killed by another killer only known as "the Gringo", but that latter killer was occasionally employed by the same man (Monsieur Blanchard) that "Shaggy" got himself employed by as a hired killer.

"Shaggy" apparently got to work for Monsieur Blanchard for a number of years, for there comes a time when he learns that the first whore he got sexually involved with had produced a son from their union, and the boy was ─ by the time "Shaggy" learned of him ─ possibly anywhere from eight to 10 years old, by my estimation.

"Shaggy" learned of his son because another woman was unloading him onto "Shaggy" as a result of the boy's mother having just been sexually abused and killed, and this other woman ─ probably another whore ─ didn't want the responsibility of the kid.

I won't say anything more about the movie except that none of the characters had anything redemptive to offer a viewer hoping for some uplift.

Yes, it was an interesting movie; but its conclusion was open-ended. That is, it had no real conclusion. We do learn who the young man telling the story to the two desperados was, but I cannot recall that it was explained who the two young boys with him were, nor what their circumstances were.

Basically, it was an 'empty' movie that should only appeal to viewers who enjoy action-laced violence, and care for little more ─ except for maybe some sexual depravity.  

Sometimes an actress or even an actor in a foreign movie garners sufficient attention from me that I find myself considering seeing more of their work, but that was not the case with this movie. 

Incidentally, the movie was fairly well dubbed into English, but I noticed other versions were in Portuguese with and even without English subtitles. (Yes, I was using our Android TV Box to locate sources.) 

💀☠💀☠💀☠ 

I took a break this afternoon, and then got around to absolute iniquity and exhausted further blogging time. I have nothing further I care to say.

Incidentally, my wife had to work the full day, so she left us around 10 a.m. to catch her bus for the final time, I reckon. Tomorrow she keeps an appointment in which she ought to be getting back her driver's licence following the termination recently of her three-month driving prohibition.

Again ─ enough said for today.