Woke Nightmare

In a very few months I will be forsaking this platform because Google is making it far too difficult to have a blog with any advertisements. I have no understanding of ─ nor the interest to learn ─ just what the blazes it is that I am supposed to do to pass muster and keep my blog online.

Google uses numerous acronyms that are practically meaningless to me; and even when they link to what is supposedly some simplified solution as in the following blurb, it should be apparent to most human beings that figuring out this mess will probably take one or more full days of immersion.

I will not be so bothered. I will give up my blog first.

Beginning 16 January 2024, Google will require all publishers serving ads to EEA and UK users to use a Google-certified consent management platform (CMP). You can use any Google-certified CMP for this purpose, including Google's own consent management solution. If you are interested in using Google's consent management solution, start by setting up your GDPR message.

Part of this nightmare requires linking to my "Privacy Policy" page ─ WTF? 

What am I, some corporation with a legal staff and IT whizzes who fathom all of this nonsense? No, I am most definitely not!

I am merely a pensioner with no other income source who is buried in debt and facing his 74th birthday in about 1½ months. A number of years ago ─ it was October 21, 2016 ─ I finally amassed enough of a balance ($100) in my AdSense account to merit a payout, but I am since then presently only 34% of the way towards any such further payout.

In other words, in almost seven years, I am barely over a third of the way to getting my next payout ─ so, would that be in something over 13 years from now, then? If I am still alive, I will be around 88 years old, for Pete's sake!

I am done with this.

But back to today's post.

I never had any time last evening to watch T.V., and I was to bed before 9:30 p.m. with my cellphone alarm set for 1:30 a.m. to get me up to ready for a five-mile+ walk.

When that time arrived, I was to once again see that my youngest stepson was still up in the boys' den area, but he never proved an impediment to my secret preparations. I saw that my wife had gotten home from work at some point, for her bedroom door was shut tight.

I now forget what the claimed online temperature for hereabouts was, but I believe that it was below 15° Celsius. We had gotten rain earlier.

I also checked my chequing account balance, for I saw a 'low balance' warning in the Inbox of one of my E-mail accounts ─ this usually means that my wife has plunged the account below $100.

Sure enough ─ I had left over $560 in it yesterday after receiving my monthly pension and transferring out most of it to an account my wife cannot access, but she had gone and withdrawn $500. And I saw that she did so at an ATM at the casino she is addicted to gambling at.

I was furious. I had only left the $500 in the account because over the next several days there will be automated debits coming from it that will total well over $300, and I do not know exactly just when these debits will occur because the larger of them normally strikes on the 2nd of a month, but I cannot recall if this applies even on a weekend.

And now all of that cushion money was gone, and I now would have to replace it.

I am writing calmly now, but I was almost overcome with rage and despair ─ even at God, for He knows how difficult her addiction has been and still is for me. And somehow, she always seems to strike the very day that I get my pension ─ I do not even precisely know the exact day it will show up. In my illogical hysteria, I sometimes feel that He works with her against me, and enjoys watching the desperation and emotional trauma I go through when this happens.

I was to rage aloud at times during my long walk, so upset would I become betimes.

I was further upset because when I weighed myself fully clothed before leaving on my walk, I was 190 pounds with my black denim jacket on, and 188 pounds with it off. Just two nights before that, I had been three pounds lighter, and one pound lighter when I left on my walk the night before last.

This all mattered when I stopped early into my walk at an elementary school playground for six sets of pull-ups and chin-ups because two nights prior when I was three pounds lighter, I set a new norm in repetitions that I only barely was able to match one night before last.

So perturbed over this mysterious accumulation of weight, and almost distraught over the lost money from my account that I believed was all gambled away, I had scant heart to exercise. Too, everything was dripping wet from the earlier rain, so I had to wear gloves.

When my first set of pull-ups was a failure due to my lack of heart to eke out just one more pull-up, my spirit broke ─ there would be no hope then of matching the two previous nights. All I could do was add a few extra sets as compensation for my failure.

Then to my additional misfortune, about midway through my exercising I became aware that there were two male figures in the distance advancing towards me across the school's pea gravel play-field.

I was forced to retreat to the front of the school where I spent some while out of sight watching for the pair of intruders to pass through.

They did not.

The opposite side of the school from the playground I had been at has equipment designed for younger kids, so I went there to finish up my exercising. I no sooner got set to resume, when 20 feet away at a fence bordering some bushes, I noticed a subdued light and heard a muffled voice ─ the culprits I had seen must have come around this way instead of passing by where I had previously been. Maybe they had noticed me there, and became uncertain of what they were walking into.

Now absolutely pissed off, I betook myself from there and returned to the opposite side of the school where I finally completed exercising. By then, I had lost far too much time. It was good that I had set off from home unusually early ─ 2 a.m.

There is nothing else about my walk thereafter that I can recall as standing out, but as it happened when I was returning for home and cutting through the back of the school property, I was about to be crossing right past the younger kids' playground when ─ beneath the platform on a set of stairs leading to the school's second storey ─ I saw a subdued light again, along with shapes that included one guy lying semi-curled up with his back to me.

I concluded that it was the same pair, either homeless or else junkies or some such. Either they had nowhere else to spend the night; or else they were simply wiped out physically and felt themselves unable to go wherever they should have been, and had decided to crash under some shelter and sleep as best they could.

I felt scant sympathy for them. What really gave me pause, though, is why ─ if they were indeed homeless ─ they are able to afford some sort of of light that they can keep burning all night?

If they are homeless, how do they keep it recharged, if it is rechargeable?

When I am out during my walks at night I encounter a surprising number of people who are seemingly just aimlessly loitering or wandering about who not only have lights with them, but sometimes even music players!

I don't get it at all. There was nothing like that back in the 1970s and 1980s when I was in my 20s and 30s and sometimes surviving almost solely through the mercy of my family.

Anyway, I was back home by 4:07 a.m., which was not too terrible considering the time I had lost at that school.

I do not recall when I returned to bed, but I hope it wasn't much after 5:30 a.m.

My morning began in the vicinity of 8:30 a.m. when I rose, and soon I was downstairs to watch some T.V. with my younger brother.

When around 9:10 a.m. he had me put our Android TV Box into action, I led us off with a 38-minute video uploaded to YouTube's The Telegraph channel yesterday: Canada's woke nightmare: A warning to the West | Documentary.

The description to the video is far, far too long for me to care to reproduce here, so take a chance and refer to the video write-up for yourself.

My brother left after that video was done so that he could pick up his girlfriend Bev at 10 a.m. and drive her to work, but he let me know as he was leaving that he would also be getting his hair cut and would thus be later than usual in returning.

As a result, it was possibly 11:10 a.m. before we commenced our next video; and due to how long it was running, my brother begged off from watching all of it and asked that we continue with it tomorrow.

Therefore, I shall withhold identification of the video until it has been watched in full.

Now, about my wife.

After she rose in the morning, I was much calmer, and bided time to see if she would acknowledge what she had done. Well, it was to happen that she twice made that acknowledgement in low tones, clearly not wanting her sons to hear.

She even expressed that she would pay it back "soon". I think that once she even mentioned that she was having to buy someone a birthday gift, but obviously it would not be anywhere near a value of $500.

Did she gamble last night? I never asked. Nor do I know just when she got home, but there were four empty bottles of beer in the kitchen from a case of a dozen she brought home Monday. I cannot say if she drank them, though ─ one or both of her stepsons might be responsible or at least involved.

I reckon that it was to the birthday party that she likely got dolled up for mid-afternoon earlier and then left, saying she was unsure just when she would be back. She allowed that she is expected to work full days both tomorrow and Friday at the Thai restaurant (it opens at 11 a.m.).

I will be having another early a.m. walk tonight, so I intend to be to bed no later than 9:30 p.m., and perhaps nearer 9 p.m. Thus, I do not expect to be up when she returns,

The weather cleared up considerably today, for we have had clouds, but also considerable sunshine. And sunny weather is predicted for the weekend.

I must go ─ it is approaching 8 p.m. and I must sup. I might also work in a can of strong (8% alcohol) malt.