It thus far slipped my mind to mention seeing a pair of raccoons visit our yard reasonably early two evenings back (i.e., Sunday) while it was still very much daylit. I only noticed one of them initially, for I had seen through our living room window a very comely young lass pass by and enter the short alleyway that opens up immediately adjacent to our house. Wishing to enjoy the lovely vision for a few seconds more, I went to a window at the back of the house that would afford that opportunity, and in so doing I saw a raccoon scaling our wooden face separating our yard from that alleyway ─ she may have spooked it, and it was coming over the fence into our backyard.
My drunken brother had arrived home and gone upstairs to change into some lounge wear just before I had espied the lass, and he had come downstairs while I was looking at the raccoon, so I explained what I was peeking at through the window blinds.
He came to confirm the observation, and I left him to it. In his state, he immediately began concocting the notion that it must be raccoons that tear up the lawn, even though he knew that the culprits have been skunks in the past.
I guess he then decided to go out through the sliding glass door to the backyard sundeck and harass the creature.
Meantime, I was back in the living room and suddenly noticed not one, but two raccoons had progressed from the backyard into the front yard ─ a feat that would have required them to again negotiate the high wooden fence (it may be six feet in height).
This time I said nothing to my brother, who soon came back into the house lamenting that the raccoon had disappeared. I know they are innocent of the lawn vandalization, even if he was suddenly converted to his new theory. I would not be party to their harassment.
I later rued that I had not thought to photograph or videotape them, but I quickly enough realized that such a thing was not possible with my brother present. In other words, even if it had occurred to me at the time, his presence would have deprived me of the opportunity.
Yesterday evening he did not arrive home until within 10 minutes of the arrival of 9:30 p.m., so I felt obliged to have to operate our Android TV Box despite my plan to rise at 2:30 a.m. overnight for a very early five-mile walk. I have a 9:30 p.m. deadline (unknown to my brother) on those evenings prior to when I intend such a nocturnal walk.
So I tuned in an episode of Versailles despite realizing that he was drunker than I care to be sharing any time with him. At least he was conscious and seemingly interested in the episode, so I cracked open the only can of strong (8% alcohol) malt that I would dare to have in light of that early walk.
And then I noticed that his eyes were closed. The besotted idiot would rouse, and then soon they would close again. This was recurring.
Well, I had already opened the beer, so I decided that whether or not he was going to miss out on the episode's happenings, I was going to view it to its conclusion and then get to bed.
And that was what befell.
I want to note that my wife had shown up during the episode; and then she freshened up and left again after some words with one or both of her adult sons. I am no longer privy to her comings and goings. I correctly presumed that she had to work a full day today at the Thai restaurant where she has part-time employment, so if she had much good sense, she would not be out too late.
An odd thing here is that the youngest son (24 years old?) had possession of her car over the weekend, even though she was wherever it is that she stays in Vancouver on her weekends.
When she works a full day at the restaurant, it opens at 11 a.m., so she tends to try and be up by 9:45 a.m. to begin readying for her day and then the fairly long drive to work. This morning she rose accordingly; and then she left as she seemingly always does on her full workdays, exchanging goodbyes with my brother and I as we watched some T.V. together.
Where he sits, he has a full view of the mouth of the driveway and where my wife usually parks her car. Well, early into the afternoon, I noticed that her car was still out there, so I asked him if he noticed that someone was picking her up for work?
He noticed nothing.
So why is her youngest son getting the use of her car? At first I wondered if maybe she has had her licence suspended, but then she would not have risked driving last evening when she mysteriously went out.
Anyway, this ought to illustrate how much communication there is around this household. I have not even engaged the lad to find out for myself what is afoot.
But getting back to last night, I was probably into bed well ahead of 10:45 p.m., with my cellphone alarm set for 2:30 a.m. Sleep is typically difficult to obtain, and it does not help that I feel a tiny bit antsy about the cellphone alarm failing, for at least twice in recent weeks it never sounded.
Nevertheless, some sleep did come. And then so did a period of wakefulness that lasted long enough for me to concernedly make a check of the time ─ it was less than 10 minutes ere when my alarm was to sound.
Well, why waste the time, then? So I got up then.
My eldest stepson (27 years old?) was apparently still up, but I believe that I managed to slip away around 2:45 a.m. without him noticing. His mother had apparently returned at some point, for her car was back (she and I have separate bedrooms).
This was the earliest that I have embarked upon one of these nocturnal walks, so I never felt that I had to push myself; I even diverted from my route to investigate two short roads that I have never before trodden.
As usual, early into the walk I stopped at a nearby elementary school to attempt some pull-ups on the gymnastics-style rings in the older kids playground, and only managed a single pull-up in each of the four sets I essayed. By the time I had returned to the school playground at the tail end of my walk, I was so stiffened and enfeebled that I could barely crook my elbows enough to lift from the ground.
I had three interesting experiences, the first of which was close to the halfway point of my Whalley walk. I had just left 132nd Street and was venturing down 105A Avenue (Google Map) as I headed for 132A Street. There was a 'streetwalker' slowly walking along the street in my direction. When she saw me on the sidewalk, she advanced toward me and sweetly asked if I had "a smoke"?
She had a very nice voice. But it was too dark to appraise her otherwise, so I just responded, "A smoke? No, I don't smoke. Sorry!"
I suspect hers was a ploy to evaluate my potential interest in a liaison with her, but I had none.
I then turned onto 132A Street, and was very quickly overtaken by a guy who was slowly bicycling on the opposite side of the street. He stopped a little ways ahead of me to check out a two-wheeled contraption that someone had left on the roadside. I passed him by, and then made a right turn onto 106A Avenue to take me to 133rd Street, from where I would turn left and walk it to 108th Avenue where the Avalon Surrey Funeral Home is (Google Map).
I made a right turn there and walked to University Drive where I made another right turn, and then followed that to 105A Avenue (Google Map). Just as I was reaching that latter intersection where I would be turning left to get to 134A Street, the dude on the bicycle was slowly coming to the same intersection along 105A Avenue and would also be continuing along it just as I was going to be doing.
He was now towing the wheeled contraption that must have been somewhat wagon-like.
I took the far side of 105A Avenue, since I was going to turn down 134A Street; the slow cyclist road the sidewalk alongside the park that is there on the opposite side of the street from me.
Just as I was reaching 134A Street, I could hear a high-pitched sort of wailing coming from a short distance beyond, and which was in the path of the cyclist ─ there was a mound on the trimmed grass beside the sidewalk that must have included one or more people and their belongings, but it was too dark to tell.
The wailing continued, so I stood a short distance down the dark 134A Street to watch what interaction there might be from the cyclist.
He of course advanced very slowly at this point, and even stopped at least once before proceeding further.
When he arrived at the source of the wailing, I could hear him talking with a female, but I could not hear what either of them were saying. She was clearly distressed, and sobbing.
After a time he must have noticed me standing down the dark street, for he left his 'wagon' and nonchalantly cycled my way as if purely by coincidence, but I suspected that I was being checked out. By this point I just continued my walk towards 105th Avenue, but as he slowly passed me by on the opposite side of the road, I spoke to him for the first time, asking, "Is she alright? She's not been beaten up or anything, has she?"
He confirmed that it was nothing like that, but I couldn't hear what else he was saying. He continued his slow ride to 105th Avenue and then turned about and headed back towards the crying woman, probably satisfied that I was leaving the area.
Good for him if he indeed meant well!
I should here mention that although the night was cool, it was perfectly dry, and the rings I had exercised on at the early part of my walk were not in the least uncomfortable to the touch.
Well, I turned left onto 105th Avenue, bound for City Parkway were I would be turning right and then making my way to King George Boulevard after attaining 104th Avenue (Google Map).
As I walked 105th Avenue, just a short distance before City Parkway I noticed in the dark a heap laying on the rather wide gravel shoulder of 105th Avenue that roused my curiosity. I had been on the opposite (right) side of that road, so I quietly approached and then stood at the edge of the pavement trying to make out just what I was looking at.
I gradually realized that it was a person ─ probably a man. He was lying on his front in the gravel roadside, with his head almost in a puddle of water. His left arm was bent such that his palm was on the ground much as if he was getting set to do a push-up ─ or at least push himself up or over at some point.
I wasn't sure if he was hooded, or if I was just seeing a dark mass of hair.
I watched him for a time, assessing what I ought to do. Was the guy alive? It was too dark to tell if his torso was moving from the act of breathing.
Finally I saw that left arm's elbow raise a little, so I knew that at least I was not looking at someone's corpse.
But what else could I do? If he was just totally drunk and had dropped there after reaching the point where he could no longer stumble on in some state of semi-consciousness, there was nothing I could do for him. Likewise if he had come to the same collapse from the effects of excessive drugs ─ or some combination of alcohol and drugs.
Even if I lived nearby, I could hardly be walking home someone like this when my wife, brother, and my two stepsons were all in their beds asleep. Heck, I wanted to soon be back in my bed, too! But I still had maybe two miles to my walk.
Dawn was maybe an hour away, and there would be lots of cars parking along that stretch of road due to nearby construction ─ working people who would be far better suited to get the guy mobilized if he was just passed out. And if he needed medical help, they could also see to that.
I'm so helplessly deep in debt that as much as I might want to, I could not be laying cash I do not have to spare on some unfortunate.
And so I left, continuing on my way, but self-examining myself.
I travelled perhaps a quarter of a mile before I had rehearsed the situation sufficiently to have reached a nobler option than the one I had taken, but by then I was too weary to backtrack. Besides, there were just too many street people about here and there ─ I did not feel up to reintroducing myself into their awareness.
Ultimately, I just came home. Even so, a block or so from home, it began to rain. Nobody who was merely passed out would have been able to remain unconscious for long ... if that was all that had been amiss with the chap.
I was back in bed before 5:30 a.m., but it was not lost upon me just how fortunate I was to be able to climb into and enjoy my bed. It was also not lost upon me that I am not anywhere remotely a Good Samaritan.
I do not excuse myself. I know full well that I deserve Eternal destruction. I am so riddled with sin that I sicken myself.
Enough of this topic. My day will come ─ I know it.
Later this morning ─ and I did not check the time until nigh 9:30 a.m. before I rose for the morning ─ I watched an excellent interview performed by Action4Canada's Tanya Gaw that was uploaded to Rumble on May 5: Subliminal Seduction, World Religions Cults, Artificial Intelligence & Live Q&A.
The video was an hour and 24 minutes in duration:
Pastor Billy Crone is the Senior Pastor of Sunrise Bible Church in Las Vegas, NV and founder of Get A Life Ministries. He is a gifted author of over 50 books, a conference speaker and teacher, and a frequent guest on radio talk shows and television programs around the world. He also speaks to thousands of people across the United States, as well as an international community of over 200 countries. He has appeared in the Christian movie “Standing Firm” and has produced a multitude of documentaries and other Christian related media.
Pastor Billy grew up in an unchurched background and became involved in the New Age Movement (NAM) until he discovered the deception and connection to the New World Order and One World Religion. It was through this journey that led Pastor Billy to a personal relationship with Christ Jesus and a ministry boldly exposing the deception and purpose of false religions and false teachings which were designed to lead people away from the One true God and Salvation in Jesus.
Follow Pastor Billy Crone: https://www.getalifemedia.com/
I was unfamiliar with Pastor Billy Crone, but he certainly reflected much of what I believe about true Christianity, even if I do not practice it.
The video very much struck me deeply ─ as if my guilt required something like this.
I wanted my brother to watch it, for he had left to pick up his girlfriend Bev at 11 a.m. to drive her to a medical clinic as a 'walk-in patient' to try and get some blood-work or other testing done.
The whole enterprise turned out to be fruitless ─ the clinic they visited had something like a 75-minute wait, and Bev was not about to put up with anything like that.
My brother had probably driven a dozen miles by the time he was done with Bev and back home again.
I had watched the video in his absence, for it began shortly before he left to get Bev. I tried to tune it in for him once he was back home around 11:50 a.m., but he objected strenuously and would have none of the sermon he felt was in store.
It infuriated me, for he needed to hear what was said in the video every bit as much as I did.
But this illustrates the conditions I live under. A wife whom I allowed to bury me in impossible debt, and who no longer respects me; and a brother whose greatest desire each day is to get away in the afternoon to get drunk with elements of his social circle, and then who comes home and I have to put up with his often ignoble company.
The video that I did thereafter tune in for his 'enjoyment' was on BitChute and entitled "1.5 Hours of Vaccine Adverse Reactions" ─ five sources are here, here, here, here, and here.
That was the last thing we were to watch.
He was to get one or both of my stepsons involved in some early afternoon yardwork that mainly involved mowing the lawns. I meanwhile napped, or I would likely be unable to handle the little exercise I had scheduled here in the latter afternoon / early evening, nor be able to deal with this post and all of the reading incurred by my poor, damaged eyes.
It was possibly as late as 3:15 p.m. before he left to once again engage in his daily 'socializing' somewhere. And since the afternoon seemed to have considerable sunny breaks, I decided to get a lawn- or deck-chair and sit out in the sunshine in the backyard for 40 minutes, as it was to develop.
It was too cool due to a breeze to have worn shorts, so I was fully clothed but for my bared feet on the lawn. That session began at 3:22 p.m., and was the first time this year that I sat outside like that. The warm weather is taking an exceptionally long time to arrive this year.
It is presently well nigh 8 p.m., and I am in the mood for whatever boxed red wine may be left in the four-litre pouch ─ along with a little T.V. Consequently, I am going to take my leave right here.
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