The Witch's Sabbath

Upon getting an early start last evening with watching some T.V., I watched a movie that I had downloaded onto a flash or thumb drive a number of days earlier ─ our Android TV Box has a port for such a drive, thereby allowing us to watch downloaded videos on our T.V. 

The movie was a dubbed version of 1988's The Witches' Sabbath (see Wikipedia and IMDb for different reports on the movie). I was able to locate it at two different websites, but I do not feel comfortable about linking to either of them because of the adult content that both of them clearly promote with exceptional vigour, and the numbers of pop-ups that result as full-blown new browsers that I am unaware have even opened up until some while later when I eventually come upon them.

I wanted to see the movie solely for the sake of watching French actress Béatrice Dalle whom I recently first watched in the gruesome Trouble Every Day (2000), and then followed that up with the three-hour director's cut of Betty Blue (1986) because I had become quite attracted to the strange actress and decided to see how many of her movies I might be able to locate online.  

The Witch's Sabbath was the worst of the three thus far. It was senseless. It would not have been worth bothering with at all if it was not for that opportunity to see more of Béatrice, naked and otherwise. At times she can look so amazingly innocent; and at others when she is looking seriously intent, her eyes are exceptionally hypnotic.

She would have ruined me if we had ever come to know one another and she had taken a sexual interest in me. I would have had absolutely no defence against her.

It does not appear that I am going to find a free source for her movie On a volé Charlie Spencer !, alas. Consequently, I shall move on down the roster of her film credits as displayed at Wikipedia.

Once my younger brother was home last evening, I was able to put our Android TV Box into action to locate an episode each of three of the T.V. series that we follow in common: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina; Endeavour; and The Last O.G.

There will be no such late-evening T.V. viewing tonight, for I have a very early a.m. walk scheduled. As yet I am unsure of the route, but it will at least somewhat exceed five miles. But if he is home from his 'socializing' by 9:30 p.m. at latest, I will at least watch one episode of something ... unless he is blitzed.

This morning when he and I got together for some T.V. via our Android TV Box, I led us off with the Organic Consumers Association May 24 (or so) upload to Rokfin titled Bruce Gagnon - Crisis at the Russia-Ukraine Border. Basically, it was a 41-minute slideshow, but it nevertheless did prove interesting once it got going.

I followed that with the Laura-Lynn Tyler Thompson's June 3 upload to Rumble titled Ken Drysdale on the Criminality of the Pandemic Response, which was an hour and 47 minutes in duration.

Here is the website where you can view the document report mentioned in this interview: https://www.thetruefactsc19.com/

Here is the link to read the document by itself: https://bit.ly/3Mns2Rh

My brother and I have seen Ken Drysdale before ─ he is very credible. As I recall, he was previously interviewed by Odessa Orlewicz.

Anyway, this latest video took us well into the noon hour.

I sought my afternoon nap just as my brother seemed about to emerge from his bedroom following his own rest, and he was gone when I later ventured from bed around 3:18 p.m. The afternoon seemed to have some sunning potential, so I groggily stumbled my way downstairs and outside to slouch low into a lawn- or deck-chair while facing into the Sun. I was fully clothed; and I believe my session commenced at 3:21 p.m.

The target was to spend at least 40 minutes soaking up the Sun's rays, but after little more than 20 minutes I had to give up because an enormous spread of very dark cloud had obscured the Sun and I could not see an end to that obscuration ─ there was scant solar benefit for being out there.

So I came into the house and soon began work on this post. My eldest stepson ─ who had been still in bed when my brother and I finished watching T.V. earlier ─ had gotten up around the time I had sought my nap. And when I heard him leave for somewhere, I remembered that I had wanted to set up some vegetables I had bought yesterday for natural fermentation ─ two beets (stems and stalks included) and a head of cauliflower, both organic.

That process is simple enough ─ I just chop them up into a small plastic pail or bucket, cover the whole with cold water, and then liberally sprinkle the top of the vegetables with Himalayan salt. In five days, the contents of the pail will be ready to start enjoying.

I like having lots of the salty juice. I will scoop out some of the vegetables and the juice, and mix a bowl of it with natural plain high-fat yogourt or even liquid whipping cream ─ this adds just the right amount of sweetness to the sour fermented vegetables and the juice. 

While I was busy preparing the vegetables, the front doorbell rang. I could see a strange car in the drive-way, and thought that it might be someone here to see one of my two absent stepsons. When I came into view of the door window, I realized that the visitor had seen me ─ it was some guy more my age than my stepsons. 

Found out, I felt obligated to answer, fearing that it would be a solicitation of some sort.

Instead, it was someone from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who was here ostensibly only to ascertain that my brother still lived here.

I confirmed, and the chap happily left.

My brother and I once attended the church for a few years as boys ─ we even got baptized; but I stopped attending in 1964 at the age of 14 because I did not believe that the Book of Mormon was an inspired successor to the Bible. Since possibly at least as young as the age of 12, I had become convicted of the Biblical doctrination as expounded by both Herbert W. and Garner Ted Armstrong. 

My brother then announced to our mother that if I didn't have to go to church anymore, then he wasn't going either.

I confess that I was also disturbed by how much more involved my role was becoming in the church ─ that is, the expectations of me; and I was also embarrassed that schoolmates would learn that I was a church-goer.

Yet because my brother and I had been church members, the church has always sought to bring us ─ well, my brother ─ back 'into the fold'. They know that this address is my brother's; but they have never been able to track me down, so I have been beyond their reach.

That chap who was here had no idea that I was the older brother, and I hope to keep my identity unknown to the church.

I have to bring this post to a close. My wife unexpectedly showed up maybe 20 minutes ago, so my blogging time has reached a conclusion for today.