Early last evening I finished watching a 2004 movie titled Clean that I had watched most of early Wednesday evening.
The lead actress was unknown to me ─ Maggie Cheung; I tuned in the film because I wanted to watch secondary actress Béatrice Dalle. Although I did not know it until now, Maggie is just about three months older than Béatrice ─ both will have their 58th birthdays later this year.
Maggie truly blew me away ─ she is a superb actress, and quickly had me rooting for her character.
Nick Nolte did a great job portraying the paternal grandfather of Maggie's young son.
I very much do recommend the movie. However, the finish was a little too open-ended for my liking. The viewer can only guess what the future would hold for Maggie's character, her character's young son, and the boy's grandfather.
I guess I am now something of a Maggie Cheung fan.
None of the sources I found for the movie in the apps that I have downloaded in my Android TV Box were true ─ despite declaring that they were for the 2004 movie, they all invariably brought up other movies named "Clean", or else they even brought up an episode of a T.V. series titled The Cleaning Lady.
And so on Wednesday evening, I resorted to watching the movie at a website called StreamM4u.net. It has a very good closed captioning (CC) option, since a lot of the movie was in Chinese and French and was not subtitled.
Unfortunately, last evening I was unable to resume the movie using that website. It kept proclaiming that the video format was not recognized and could not be played.
With much relief, I located the movie at a different website that also allowed closed captioning ─ FMovies. The closed captioning became absolutely essential at FMovies because its volume there was so low that I could barely hear what was being said.
Notwithstanding, that was a small enough bother; and I got to finish watching a pretty darned good movie.
As was anticipated for later that evening, my younger brother did not manage to make it home by bus until long past the 9:30 p.m. deadline that I had set in place for him arising from my need to get some sleep to help fortify me for the early a.m. walk that I had scheduled ─ I would be rising at 2:30 a.m., so there was certainly not going to be any late evening television for me.
Despite that, it might have been approaching 10:15 p.m. before I got to bed. My youngest stepson had been home over the evening, so it was when I heard what was likely my brother entering the house that I pulled myself from further dalliance here at my computer and got to bed.
My wife was not yet home. She specializes in getting home after I have gone to bed ─ not that it much matters in view of us having separate bedrooms ever since early last November following my serious bout of "COVID pneumonia" in October that put me into a hospital for just over 11 days.
The jury is still out on whether lying in bed with my 'vaxxed' wife was what caused my illness, for I will die before I ever again accept any manner of inoculation now that I understand the agenda behind this deliberate bid to decimate humankind's numbers.
When my alarm sounded at 2:30 a.m., I felt reasonable enthusiasm for the walk despite not having gotten proper sleep; and by 2:44 a.m. I was on my way. My wife's car was by then parked in our driveway, so she had gotten home at some point.
Ultimately the rectangular perimeter of my north Surrey walk would have approximately the 9250 block of 134th Street as it centre (Google Map); and its boundaries were comprised by 88th & 97th Avenues on two sides, and 128th and 140th Streets on the other two sides.
However, I did not exclusively tread those boundaries throughout, instead generally employing paralleling roads inside of them that ought to have been less trafficked.
And early into that walk that should have ultimately exceeded 5¼ miles, I stopped at an elementary school playground in order to perform four sets of pull-ups on a pair of the gymnastics-style rings featured there. My complete repetitions for those four sets were 4 - 2 - 2 - 1 with a 30-count between sets ─ which was my best performance thus far this year.
Fully dressed, I would surely weigh into the upper 190s (pounds) at a height of just under five feet and 11 inches. It is also notable that I am 72 years old.
By the time I was home again and standing outside of the locked front door, it was 4:38 a.m.
I was a little footsore and of course weary, but I dallied here at my computer for over 30 minutes before feeling ready to return to bed. First, however, on a whim I logged into my chequing account to see if the annual property taxes ─ which had been paid by cheque this past Monday, the due day ─ had as yet been negotiated.
Imagine my near horror to discover that my wife's greedy fingers had been reaching into that balance, leaving the account short by nearly $800, and me with no other money to transfer into the account. Should the cheque be applied against the balance that remained, it would bounce, and not only would my financial institution hit me with a $48 NSF charge, but the City of Surrey would also smack me with a penalty.
I was both sickened at this discovery, and furious at my selfish wife.
I did have a contribution from my brother ─ his share by cheque of the property taxes that I had not yet deposited; but I was depleted from the walk I already had. The sole solution I could come up with was to confess all to my wife's youngest son once he was up, and see if he could transfer enough money into the account to make up for his mother's grasping withdrawal.
So around 5:15 a.m. I finally returned to bed.
But I was in absolute turmoil. My heart was racing, and I could not settle down from the rage I felt towards my wife. Mentally, I was just about all set to kick her out of the house and my entire life, for her withdrawal had brought her debt to $4,200 where that chequing account was concerned thus far this year.
The account was once a joint account where she would deposit her paycheques, but she has not made any such contribution there in several years. All that goes into it is my monthly retirement pension, and whatever contributions towards the monthly mortgage and related bills that her two sons make.
Yet my working wife continually takes money from that account ─ which is funded mostly by my pension ─ as if it ought still to be a joint account. And there is naught that I can do ─ I have no other bank account. This has been my account for decades of my life.
I have never felt so trapped. Sleep was impossible. So I decided to rise and dress, and head out to deposit my brother's cheque at an ATM approximately a quarter mile from here, even though I had already done all of the walking I intended to this point in my early day.
I hate being abroad during the busy day. I do not drive, so I have to walk.
Well, I made the hike ... only to discover that the concerned ATM was "out of commission". It was bloody all for nothing.
And now I felt truly bereft, for even God seemed against me.
The next nearest ATM from that point was about 1½ miles distant ─ I could not make any such walk.
So in total dejection, I returned home and went back to bed. First, though, I texted my wife at 7:13 a.m.:
When [her youngest son] gets up, I'm going to ask if he can replace the property tax money you stole from the account yesterday.
I hope the government doesn't try to cash the property tax cheque before I talk to him.
You're in big trouble for this.
She is always afraid of his ire ever since it came to light maybe three years ago that she was addicted to gambling, and had depleted a line of credit related to the house mortgage. The line of credit only had about $50,000 of credit remaining at the time, but over the course of several months she blew it all.
She also racked up well over $20,000 in credit card debt, most of it on credit cards that I shared responsibility for and thus was also liable.
I am still feebly making payments on those, knowing that I will be unlikely to live to see the day when the debt is cleared ─ unless we sell the house, ownership of which I share with my brother. Actually, he has a larger share in the ownership, for he alone originally made a $40,000 down payment towards the purchase.
Due to certain benefits arising from me being a first-time home-owner (which he was not), the house was registered solely under my name. I was not married back then.
But I digress, of course.
Sending that text somewhat eased my turmoil, and at some point I drifted into a bout of sleep. When I then checked the time, it was something like 8:52 a.m., so I rose for the morning. My routine is to watch some morning T.V. with my brother, employing our Android TV Box.
Only he was yet up (my eldest stepson is presently in Cancún).
The only videos my brother and I were to watch were Rumble uploads just recently made by Christopher James (A Warrior Calls).
The main video had been uploaded yesterday, and was not too much short of 1½ hours in duration (1:20:04): Law Enforcement Has No Excuse.
Check out this 42 page Response package. Bonnie Henry has been exposed as BC Health Minister. She knew the injections were not safe, it is an email string of BC website.: https://awarriorcalls.com/pdfs/Response_Package_HTH-2021-13807-compressed.pdf
Obviously there was far more to the video than just that corrupt, lying woman. She actually figured into it just very slightly.
I do not know what to make of Christopher James (Pritchard?). He featured a short video clip of "Grizzly Patriot" Mark Friesen denouncing what he (Christoper) maintains that he plans to do with some sort of people's court that like-minded other Canadians are somehow going to unite together to enact and bring to justice absolutely everyone in this country who has been involved in the scamdemic / plandemic / casedemic.
He even maintains that the peoples of the world will be rising up in this popular 'bringing-to-account' of all of the corrupt everywhere across the planet.
Yet he never defines just how this is supposed to be getting done ─ even just here in Canada.
Nevertheless, I find his ongoing optimism to be almost stirring. It is certainly interesting, at very least. So I have begun to keep watching his latest videos.
Mark Friesen had pointed out that what Christopher James keeps spouting is unrealistic and even dangerous where the other elements of the 'freedom movement' are concerned because Christopher's people's court is a fantasy that can never be realized. Any sort of attempt to seize control like Christopher seems to think can be done will only meet with total quashing ─ along with all of the other elements of the 'freedom movement'.
It is interesting that Christopher never actually identified Mark Friesen. He only played Mark's video clip, and stated that Mark was well-meaning but lacking the depth to understand the deeper context of what is developing.
Anyway, Christopher's video cited above was more or less prefaced by two shorter videos that were both uploaded to Rumble on July 7: a 49-minute video titled GENOCIDE CONFIRMED, and an eight-minute short titled Yuval Noah Harari Evil People Exposed.
There seems to be quite a schism in the Canadian 'freedom movement'. Maybe the fight is futile ─ it certainly is if we cannot be united.
My brother sought bed rest following those three videos. And then as if on cue, I got this text from my wife in her bedroom at 12:06 p.m.:
Sorry I should put it back last night, but I deposit it now.
And with that said, she returned the full withdrawal, using her smartphone to do so.
I never understood just why she took the money, but at least she had not gambled it away as I was fearing. And because her youngest son did not get up ahead of her, I never needed to have that talk with him that would have set him off against her.
Naturally, she asked that I keep everything secret.
She really does not seem to have sensed just how close to ending our union she had come.
I must add that the cheque for the property taxes had still not been negotiated, so that was a very happy resolution. It would not be bouncing and smearing my reputation.
My wife was to work the later part of today ─ the restaurant closes in the afternoon from something like 3 - 4:30 p.m. And thus towards mid-afternoon she finally left on her fairly long drive to work. By then, my brother had long since left for the afternoon and early evening to 'socialize'.
Okay, I have a small mystery to report.
When I was getting set to embark on my early a.m. walk, I noticed that there was a tiny but brilliant purple light at the end of a stretch of garden that extends from outside the front door for maybe a distance of 10 feet.
The wee bulb is in some circular white base that has a diameter at most of approximately that of a loonie or toonie, and is possibly pushed a wee ways into the dirt ─ I have not yet touched the device.
I have asked my wife and stepson, as well as my brother, and none of them put the darned thing there. My wife and stepson, however, both confirm that they saw it last night for the first time. Clearly, somebody else trespassed and put it there ... but why?
My evening is already begun, so I must bring this post to a close because I have some essential shopping to do for a large bottle of Scotch.
Tomorrow is my younger brother's 70th birthday.
I had intended to go with him this morning when he went to pick up his girlfriend Bev at 10 a.m. and drive her to work. I occasionally use that opportunity to have him stop at the nearest government liquor store around two miles from here so that I can replenish my supply of strong (8% alcohol) malt.
Had my wife not taken the surplus from the chequing account that was beyond the figure for the annual property taxes, I would have been able to make that trip with my brother and ─ under the guise of buying more malt ─ also buy his bottle of Scotch.
So now I must get out and try and buy at a local private liquor store ─ there is one a quarter mile from here. Their prices are considerably above what I would likely have paid at the government liquor store.
I must say, though, that my eyes are burning from inadequate sleep despite a short afternoon nap. Working on this lengthy post has not helped matters. Therefore, I must first take a bit of a rest before I feel that I can brave the glaring public.
And that's it here for today.
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