Are We Being Set Up?

X (formerly Twitter): illuminatibot

During my latter evening 5.625-mile round trip walk yesterday to do a little grocery shopping at Real Canadian Superstore, it was sometimes raining so finely that it was barely perceptible visually except when directly within the glare of lights. It was barely managing to dampen the pavement, and never did I feel the need to button up my denim jacket.

I arrived back home to find my drunken brother passed out before the T.V.

I put away my purchases and changed clothes in my bedroom, and then went downstairs with two cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) to watch some T.V. with him.

He was still deeply passed out so I took direct control of the T.V. and activated our Android TV Box, tuning in Glitch ─ episode one ("The Rare Bird") of season two.

It was only well into the second half of the episode that the sot my brother often becomes began to evince signs of consciousness, albeit not a regaining of senses.

He uttered some nonsense at one point that I ignored, well understanding that the pea-brained dullard was only thinking he was fooling me into believing that he had been aware all along. Yet very soon, he was passed out again.

The next time he roused, he actually challenged me with a growled, "Are you watching this?"

In other words, he had no idea what show was on ─ nothing was recognizable despite it being the seventh episode of the series, a series he normally enjoys. So he was desirous of something else because this show that his blurry eyes beheld had no interest for him whatsoever.

Again I ignored him, and again he passed out, only to revive a bit later and managing to catch what remained of the episode.

Yes, I am speaking very harshly. I love my brother, but this drunken lout is not him ─ my genuine brother disappears after a certain amount of beer and this senile facsimile takes over.

I next tuned in Wanted ─ episode four of season two.

I was forced to pause the episode fairly early in order to respond to my dense brother with a recap of recent events in the series because he no longer had grasp of them ─ I actually snapped at him that it was no wonder with him being passed out so regularly!

When the episode was done, so was my brother ─ he was quick to retire to his bedroom for the night.

I remained watching some YouTube videos while having a final fairly light meal and then brushing my teeth. And then upstairs here at my bedside computer, I passed some further time. I am now blank on which side of 3 a.m. I managed to get to bed.

My morning was to begin when I checked the time at 8:05 a.m. after sitting up to do so.

An hour later I was downstairs to take control of the T.V. because my brother had not yet emerged from his bedroom.

Soon, I was watching a 49-minute video published July 29 to Rumble's A Warrior Calls channel: Christopher James on The Sarah Westall Show.

SarahWestall.com

I watched it all, and still my brother had not manifested.

So I tuned in an hour-long video published July 18 at Rumble's Deprogramming With Graces Dad channel: Are We Being Set Up For A False Prophet?

Steve Deace provides his insights into one of the most important questions facing us today, in light of our responsibilities of being prepared and fighting evil.

Refer to the video link for links referencing the several video clips that were included in the episode.

It was just after 10:40 p.m. that my brother made his appearance and watched what remained of the video with me. We then watched three short videos I will not bother mentioning.

And then I tuned in a previously recorded (by me) video that we had already watched the first half of a couple of days ago: "The Power of the Doctor".

It was a Doctor WHO special ─ the final appearance of Jodie Whittaker as the Thirteenth Doctor.

If interested in the nearly 1½-hour (1:27:54) special, it is presently available at this link at Supernova.to.

Following the video, it was time for my brother's bed rest. I had a meal, and was thereafter into my own bed for a nap when he emerged from his bedroom and left for the day.

I did not rise till just after 3 p.m., and discovered that for the first time since Sunday we were having some sunshine. Maybe I'll be back to some sunning tomorrow afternoon.

I passed some time in the early evening watching some T.V. via our Android TV Box ─ The Guardian. This time it was season one's episode three ("Paternity").

Guest actress Justin Miceli was not known to me, but I found her strikingly beautiful. I loved NYPD Blue, but I cannot claim to remember her as a regular.

Guest actress Karina Logue as a prostitute mother of a crippled son, and who was facing a two-year prison term and the institutionalization of her son for that time, was also undeniably attractive ─ today, she is 58 years old, having had her most recent birthday on February 27.

The crippled son was played ably by Jesse Plemons.

I am truly enjoying this old series, and drank two cans of Cariboo Malt during the episode. But it is disappointing that neither of the two story arcs had a positive outcome ─ I hope that this did not become a trend in the series.

I have a wee a.m. five-mile+ walk planned, so it would be darned cool if I got to bed early enough to rise well before 2 a.m. My wife never came home last night ─ will she tonight?

Speak of the Devil

X (formerly Twitter): Elon Musk

It was just past 11 p.m. last night before I got to bed due to iniquitous delays, but I set my cellphone alarm for 2 a.m. to get me up to ready for a five-mile+ walk.

Rather surprisingly, I did not feel as poorly slept as I was expecting, even though I was awake a lot. My wife had come home at some point since my retirement and had gone to bed, and no one else was up.

The day-long rain had ceased, and there was some drying.

My fully clothed weight (sans jacket) when I was set to go was at most 182 pounds, and a second weigh had resulted in 181 pounds on our analog scale. It was 2:31 a.m. once I was outside the locked front door and about to head away.

I was not in a good mood. I was full of self-hate, and furious at God's never-ending refusal to help me in any recognizable way despite seeing me become more and more disinterested in any kind of existence ─ it is almost too late to help me, for I am almost past redeeming.

I was also furious that when He does help, it is almost Loki-like, embodying the concept spoken of in the phrase "Be careful what you wish for." In other words, your wish or prayer might come true, but in some disastrous fashion.

I was also angry at my wife for imposing upon me for the $700 she thoughtlessly guilted me into giving her yesterday ─ she clearly monitors our chequing account and knows when my monthly pension income is directly deposited.

When I got to the elementary school playground approximately three blocks away for some exercise, I walked around the far side of the school to the playground equipment near the back of the school ... only to discover some idle 𝔞𝔰𝔰-𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢 seated there on the ground ─ it was his cellphone-like flashlight that I had actually seen. Judging by the dark shape in the gloom of night, I believe he was alone.

But why the Hell did he have to be sitting there on the ground just when I wanted some exercise ─ I only get this opportunity three nights a damned week!

So I never stopped ─ I just cut through the playground and carried on to the rear of the school as if that had been my intention. There is a smaller kids' playground on the other side of the school where I could salvage my exercising.

Yet sure enough ─ on that side of the school was yet another 𝔞𝔰𝔰-𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢 ─ this idiot seemed to be changing his clothes, or else trying some on. At maybe 2:45 a.m. ─ just like anyone else might be doing ... when they are not, of course, seated on the ground for some oddball reason with a white light as might be provided by a cellphone app.

So yet again, the Fates worked against me, and I had to continue on to the street and then proceed past the school

On top of the mood I was already in, this pretty much put me over. I cursed one and all with a pox, and did so for long afterwards.

Naturally, there were to be further occasional revivals of my foul mood when various vehicles on the streets enraged me, whether by blinding me with unnecessarily bright headlights, rocket-like roaring engines of speeders, or even something as simple of coinciding with me just when I was in the process of crossing a road and seemingly deliberately thwarting me.

I chanced the school again as I was returning home, this time finding it free of aimless loiterers. However, at this point I have become quite stiffened from my walk, and there is less of any drive within me that might have earlier been present.

In anticipation, a block or so before getting to the school, I did as much limbering of my shoulders and related areas as was possible while walking, but without a lot of exaggerated motions that might make me appear to be high on drugs ─ or else retarded ─ should anyone I was unaware of be witnessing me.

Somehow ─ after wiping a jungle gym monkey bar dry to exercise on ─ I matched my recent maximums of pull-ups in the first two sets (7 - 2), chin-ups in the middle two sets (3 - 3), and pull-ups between two bars in the final two sets (2 - 2), holding the very last pull-up for a reasonably comfortable 30-count.

I then performed a dozen slow, full-range decline push-ups on the nearby cement ramp kids use to enter the school at one doorway instead of having steps leading up to it.

At least I was finally able to feel better about myself.

It was 4:40 a.m. once I was back home. And I was back into bed just ahead of 6 a.m.

I believe that it was well ahead of 8:30 a.m. when I rose, finding my younger brother not only already up, but about to return to his bed ─ I later learned that he had been up since maybe 6:30 a.m. due to sleeping illy.

Since my brother is no fan of Christopher James' 'broken record' ranting, I played for myself the video published July 26 at Rumble's A Warrior Calls channel: MAKE AMERICA GULLIBLE AGAIN /CANADA IS FINISHED.

My brother did join me fairly late into the video, and thus was present when my wife rose and left for work shortly after 10 a.m., evidently with a full workday in store.

Note that I had risen to find that all was wet outside ─ it was again lightly raining, and probably did so throughout the morning.

The above video was the only one we were to watch because my brother wanted to watch the 10:45 a.m. Olympic Games gold medal match between favourites New Zealand and Canada.

We were to lose, despite getting the first seven points.

My brother got something in the mail that was extremely aggravating and 100% out of the blue.

At least three years ago, he had to undergo "remedial" driver training due to getting nabbed for driver intoxication. It was very expensive; but at least due to COVID lockdowns at the time, he was able to 'attend' mandatory Responsible Driver Program sessions by phone here at home.

Heck, maybe this was all four years ago?

Anyway, he thought it was all over with, but a letter he got today proclaims that at the time he had been pegged with nine negative points on his driving record.

Well, once a five-year 'window' of driving has been determined, "a driver’s cumulative score within" that window will be reviewed ─ and this was reportedly done:

"... When a person accumulates a minimum threshold of remedial program points for alcohol and/or drug related driving events as shown in the table below, the Superintendent has the authority to require the driver to attend or participate and complete the Responsible Driving Program (RDP) and/or Ignition Interlock Program (IIP)."

In his case, for anything ranging from nine to 10 points, the "Cumulative Remedial Requirements" are that he is again under the penalty of this wretched programme for a period of six months.

It appears that apart from having to physically attend the sessions that he got out of having to attend previously due to lockdowns, he seems also to have to have an Ignition interlock device installed on his van at his own expense.

The "Responsible Driver Program" itself is listed as now costing $1,200, but that has nothing to do with the installation of this personalized breathalyzer. And I just bet that there will be other unmentioned financial penalties.

But if he has to have this device installed in his van for six months, it means that he would never be able to use his van during that time if he had anything at all to drink. He would have to walk or bus.

And he goes drinking absolutely every single day, so this is going to be a major inconvenience! His usual drinking haunt is two miles distant ─ he's hardly going to be walking there and back. It will require at least some busing.

Now remember ─ these are all penalties with which he was punished several years ago. The corrupt, thieving bastards have decided that they have the authority to re-penalize people with duplicate punishments these several years later!

Of course, we do not know for certain that the Ignition interlock device will be required this time, but he has 45 days within which to respond and learn exactly what is in store.

The sky has been solidly overcast this afternoon, even if there was no rain ─ which may not have been entirely the case. It is hard to tell when all appears damp if not wet outside.

My brother had his midday bit of bed rest, and then drove off to socialize. I soon enough thereafter had a short nap. Since both of my stepsons were away to work today, I did some extra laundering ─ all of my bedding.

I often peter out by early evening when ─ like tonight ─ I have a latter evening walk planned. I wish to perform the 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore, primarily for a three-kg pail of creamed honey.

I lied down some while; and then I resorted to a little T.V.

I put our Android TV Box to work and tuned in Prodigal Son ─ episode two ("Speak of the Devil") of season two. I also enjoyed a can of Cariboo Malt and a shot of brandy.

That helped.

It is now a little past 9 p.m., so I must ready and be on my way. I will be sitting up later with my brother, watching at least one of our shows.

💀☠💀☠💀☠ Straighten Up

The time was around 9:23 p.m. last evening when I left my bedroom and headed for the outdoors and my 5.625-mile round trip grocery shopping hike to Real Canadian Superstore, finding the sky deliciously overcast and thus bringing some earlier darkness than would have otherwise been the case.

And throughout the entire uneventful walk in both directions, I occasionally felt a very fine speck or two of rain.

I got back home to find my younger brother of course watching T.V.

Once I had put things away, dressed myself down, and then joined him, it was midnight when he turned the T.V. over to me so that I could activate our Android TV Box, but he cautioned that he only had it in him to watch one show.

I selected The Outpost ─ episode nine ("There Will Be a Reckoning") of season two.

True to his word, that was essentially it for my brother. However, I was determined to sit and watch random YouTube Udon Thani nightlife videos via the SmartTube app while I drank a second can of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol), bringing my total for the entire evening to three such cans and one of Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% alcohol); also, I had a final smallish meal and then brushed my teeth.

I got further delayed from bed when at my bedside computer I became caught up in what was for me an especially difficult game of Microsoft FreeCell that I may have spent as much as a half hour or more seeking to resolve.

Frankly, the darned game may have taken me an hour to crack. I just remember that it was around 3:30 a.m. before I finally got into bed.

My wife was still not home from work at the Thai restaurant that employs her part-time, but her bedroom door was closed when I rose this morning at 8:50 a.m.

My brother was already up and watching T.V.

It was finally raining, and was to do so pretty much for the day, although it has only ever been a very fine, light rain that hardly seems to be penetrating far into the ground (I dug a bit of a hole in the front yard garden plot to properly plant some manner of large flower bulb around mid-afternoon, and the earth below the surface was only vaguely damp and still light-coloured).

When I joined my brother for some T.V., we were to watch two enjoyable-enough videos via our Android TV Box.

First was an hour-long video streamed July 24 at Rumble's childrenshealthdefense channel: DNA Contamination and VAERS Data.

After years of researching mRNA injections and documenting adverse events, we are just scratching the surface of corruption in the marketing, manufacturing and militarizing of the COVID shots. Scientists, doctors, journalists, elected officials, parents, and students — people from all walks of life, of all ages and with differing levels of education – are joining the fight to find out what was pushed on the public, who was behind it, and its impact on public health, both now and into the future. Watch this episode of “Good Morning CHD” with host Jessica Rose, Ph.D. and her guest Rebekah Barnett to find out more.

I like both of these ladies, so I enjoyed their meandering ramble. As well, Rebekah somewhat reminds me of actress Uma Thurman, so she's good to look at with my ageing eyes.

The second video was 48 minutes, and was actually a Bloomberg documentary, but this source was published November 19, 2023, to Rumble's TheWarAgainstYou channel: The Forever Chemical Scandal. Global Contamination of All Life. Especially Humans 11-8-2023.

IN REALITY MOST OF THE TOXIC AND HARMFUL CHEMICALS USED BIG INDUSTRY NOT ONLY IGNORED THE HARM CAUSED-
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BUT IN MOST CASES INTENTIONALLY USED THEM AS A MEANS OF LIMITING LIFESPANS AND AS A EUGENICS - STERILITY ATTACK AGAINST THE GLOBAL POPULATION
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THIS IS ALL PART OF THE SILENT WEAPONS FOR QUIET WAR AGENDA
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RoundUp was Never an Accident, but an Intentional Biological Weapon used as an Attack Against the Global Population...
***
PFAS chemicals are used in thousands of products aimed at making life easier. But the chemicals are now almost everywhere, including in human blood, and are being linked to severe health problems.
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Correction Note: At 37:45, this video incorrectly identifies the year Minnesota's ban on PFAS in food packaging will begin. The ban takes effect in 2024.

My brother pursued some bed rest after this, and I had a meal before seeking a short nap. He was gone for the day when I rose.

My wife of course rose late, and bravely tackled a sink load of dirty dishes left for her by her two adult sons.

I was delighted that my monthly pension income was directly deposited today into our joint chequing account ─ more than I have yet received, for it was well in excess of $2,900.

Despite my numerous debt expenses I have that are all attributable to my weakness in the past to standing up to my avaricious wife, I felt most hopeful. Maybe this next month I could even buy a pair of high-quality hiking boots.

So I transferred $2,900 of the deposit out of that account into my personal account that my wife cannot access.

But before she was to leave for work around 3:15 p.m., she came to me ─ clearly cognizant that money had come ─ and implored that I transfer her $700 to send to her mother in Thailand.

She already owes me $1,400 from the past couple of months that she has been remiss in repaying anything towards ─ I have been promised $500, which would be all I would ever likely get back.

And now she has guilted me into extending her a further $700, promising that when next she is paid, she will reimburse me $500 ─ not towards any of the previous recent debt, but just this one.

So now I realize that the $1,400 is a total write-off, and now I will be lucky to even get back $500 of the $700 she got from me today.

Why the Hell does she work? It's costing me a bloody fortune! If she was unemployed and grounded like me, wholly unable to socialize and having to remain housebound like I am, I would save so damned much money.

At one point in the late afternoon, it actually poured rain briefly.

Early into the evening I ventured downstairs to watch some T.V. so that I could have a couple of cans of Cariboo Malt ─ I needed the mood-numb.

I tuned in Chesapeake Shores ─ episode six ("Straighten Up and Fly Right") of season six. It sort of helped, dealing to quite a degree with addiction as it did.

I also found myself quite impressed with actress Emilie Ullerup ─ not just her expressions, but even her voice at times seemed absolutely natural.

This is a bath day for me, so it is useful that I was not confronted with choosing not to sun in the afternoon. However, I did not bathe until after watching Chesapeake Shores and drinking the two beers. I had not even supped as yet.

But I do not feel the worse for it as my bedtime approaches.

I hope to be rising as early as 1:30 a.m. overnight to begin readying for a five-mile+ walk, so bedtime shall not be much longer as I type these words at 8:58 p.m.

Trouble in the Family

As intended, I rose at 4 a.m. overnight, and probably did not feel too poorly because I had no alcohol last evening.

I even managed to be away on my grocery shopping expedition by 5:57 a.m. ─ this was to leave me a few extra minutes so that I could stop at the elementary school playground three or so blocks from here in order to engage three token sets of pull-ups and chin-ups.

Well, I had no sooner laid down my wrapped up tote bags and was about to ascend the jungle gym monkey bars when I saw some aimless fool about a third of the way across the nearby play field and slowly walking my way.

The field had been empty when I first approached the playground.

This was so damned infuriating that I immediately picked up my tote bags and headed away, audibly cursing that "aimless fool" and my foul ill luck. You can be assured he was not there in order to work out his upper body with any strenuous exercising ─ he was simply possessed of nothing else to do with his time but ruin my plans.

My ill mood lasted a long, long time.

I put in my usual five-mile+ walk, stopping on the return at Save-On-Foods about ¾ of a mile from home where I did some shopping, and then I proceeded for home. I first meant to bypass the school, but then it occurred to me that if no one was around it, I might have enough vigour remaining to at least handle those three sets.

There was a possibly older (Asian?) chap slowly ambling the play field ─ a lean chap with his hands clasped behind his lower back, yet with a swollen belly. In other words, no one who does anything more physical than walk slowly for activity.

So I started in the direction of the playgound.

He appeared to be going in the direction of the opposite side of the school, but no sooner did I begin my course for the playground than he stopped ... and began idly ambling towards there as well, walking as slowly as if he was going to live for eternity.

I actually wondered if he had noticed that I was going in that direction, so he decided that he might as well, too.

And yes, the thought was enraging.

There is a kiddies playground on the opposite side of the school that had initially seemed his course, so I switched course myself and went there.

Finally, I was able to have my three sets: five pull-ups in the first set, three chin-ups in the second set, and two pull-ups between a pair of stationary rings in the final set ─ I held the last pull-up for a fairly comfortable 30-count.

That was all I wanted to do, but this wretchedly overpopulated region makes such opportunities so extremely difficult to obtain.

Even when I was a young man, I felt too inhibited to exercise if anyone was nearby ─ and I was good at it back then. Now that I am 74 years old, I am not so strong and capable.

After I got home and put away my purchases, and then dressed down in my bedroom, I did not waste too much more time before returning to bed to see if I could nap, for no one else was yet up.

I roused maybe an hour later ─ it may have been around 9:30 a.m. As I lay, quite reluctant to yet rise, I began to believe that I could hear the T.V. newly turned on. My brother was evidently finished looking through the Sunday morning edition of The Province that I subscribe to. I had never heard him leave his bedroom and go downstairs earlier, so I must have managed a nap.

I soon enough joined him, and we watched some of the currently ongoing Paris Olympics coverage ─ specifically, the women's gymnastics competition. Naturally, the Canadian team was being featured.

I was reminded to mention to my brother something that I forgot to write about in yesterday's blog post.

When I was on my early a.m. walk and had travelled just over ¾ of a mile ─ I was walking along Fraser Highway at the time ─ I was to see someone coming in my direction. It was maybe 3 a.m. at the time, or slightly after.

At first I thought that it was some lean South Asian male.

But as we began nearing one another, I could scarcely believe my eyes! Instead of a lean fully clothed male, it was a beautiful young Black girl garbed just like one of the female Olympic athletes, whether a gymnast or else one of the powerful sprinters. Her gorgeously sculpted dark chocolate-hued legs were absolutely magnificent.

Why she was out at that late time of night dressed as she was, I cannot even speculate. But I could see that she was likely uneasy about me as we approached, even though the sidewalk is very wide and includes a bike lane. We had some woods and a creek in quite a ravine to our side, which likely added to her concern about me.

So gentleman that I am, I kept my eyes on hers, rather than gawking at the rest of her; and as we were about to pass, with a sincerely warm smile on my face, I offered out a somewhat hi-toned and friendly, "Hu-lo!"

She responded likewise right away and with a bit of a laugh, smiling hugely.

Once we had passed by one another, I did not look back after her ─ it was out of concern that she might be looking behind her at me to ensure that I wasn't about to sneak up after her.

What a beautiful young thing she was ─ quite likely she was yet in her teens, and she was fairly short. Because she had so little on, she looked very fit and trim; but had she been fully clothed like the young Asian male I had originally taken her for, she would have of course appeared as someone with a substantial physique and have been a larger presence.

She was inspiring. And once again, I was keenly reminded of just how socially insulated and isolated I am, having no one in my life beyond my household comprised of my brother, my aloof wife, and my two adult stepsons.

But back to morning T.V. with my brother. Once the women's gymnastics were off the focus and men's volleyball was set to commence, we both agreed that it was time to watch something else. I tuned in a couple of what I consider to be poor YouTube videos, so I will not mention them.

And then I played the video we had to cut short yesterday for want of time ─ we had about 40 minutes of it to watch.

At 58 minutes (58:23), it had been published "5 years ago" to BitChute's Adaneth channel: Chivalry and Betrayal: The Hundred Years War | Trouble in the Family: 1337-1360 (Episode 1).

A 2013 History Documentary hosted by Janina Ramirez.

Dr. Janina Ramirez explores the fall-out of the longest and bloodiest divorce in history, when little England dared to take on the superpower France.

Episode 1: Edward III rips up the medieval rule book and crushes the flower of French knighthood at the Battle of Crecy with his low-born archers. His son, the Black Prince, conducts a campaign of terror, helping to bring France to her knees.

Episode 2: https://www.bitchute.com/video/iT4dhnX7Ar17/

That Janina was darned cute ─ and distracting! There were two or three occasions when I got so drawn into checking her out and "imagining" that I neglected to concentrate on what she was saying and 'lost the plot' for a bit.

The more I learn of what England did to France back then, the more I find myself detesting them as ruthless invaders.

The video brought us to possibly 12:15 p.m., so my brother then headed on back to his bedroom for some bed rest prior to leaving for the day to socialize.

I had a light meal, so I wasn't yet into my bed for a nap when my brother eventually emerged and left for the day. My wife had been up for quite some while by then.

My nap left me feeling worse overall than before I had taken it ─ I was near to having a headache. The afternoon had become quite sunny, and I felt obligated to sun, but I had no desire to subject myself to the brilliance and heat of the afternoon.

After my wife left to work in the latter afternoon, I had to force myself to at least sun for a short while, so soon after 3:30 p.m., I put in what I would estimate was at least 40 minutes, if not even around 45 minutes. It's not going to be sunning weather all year, after all.

Part of my early evening was spent watching 9-1-1: Lone Star ─ episode 12 ("Swipe Left") of season four. Along with a slight meal, I then drank a can each of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) and Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% alcohol).

That actress Natacha Karam as character Marjam is one outstanding beauty!

Immediately after the show's conclusion ─ I had been home alone ─ my eldest gym-rat stepson (29 years old) came riding home on his Harley-Davidson while a number of our South Asian Sikh neighbours were out front in the cul-de-sac.

He seemed to make quite a hit. One young boy was put onto the back of the bike by the lad's father, but the boy was too timid of the bike's roar to sit there while the bike was idling.

There was some interaction with the father and my brawny stepson, and then they tried to coax the guy's mother to climb onto the back of the bike ─ despite her full draped female Sikh garb.

Naturally she was not tempted, but all seemed to enjoy the interplay.

It made me feel a little better about our neighbours, I confess.

I want to have a latter evening 5.625-mile round trip shopping hike to Real Canadian Superstore ─ it closes at 11 p.m. Consequently, I am going to try and rest a little if I must after readying for the trip, so I am going to sign off here at 9:01 p.m.

Rape?

Due to not managing to get to bed last evening until nearly 10 p.m., I felt obliged to set my alarm for 1:45 a.m. to get me up to begin readying for a five-mile+ walk.

Perhaps as a result of the two cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) and one of Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% alcohol), my sleep was poor and I happened to be conscious when my alarm chimed.

I already knew that my wife had come home at some point earlier, but only my youngest stepson was still up.

My fully clothed (sans jacket) weight when I was finally set to leave was around 187 pounds; and it was 2:31 a.m. once I had slipped outside and was beyond the locked front door and about to begin my walk.

The sky was not overcast, so a forecast I had heard yesterday was wrong.

When I got to the elementary school playground three or so blocks from home, I found myself lacking ─ were those brews at fault in any way?

My opening set of pull-ups ended at just five. I had felt tight and lacking in fluidity ─ it was as if I was insufficiently recovered from previous exertion.

I performed two further sets of two pull-ups apiece, and then two sets of three chin-ups in each, before doing another set of two pull-ups.

And since the gymnastics-style rings were out of commission because vandals had wrapped the chains out of reach around the very high support bar, I did two pull-ups between a pair of jungle gym monkey bars in each of two final sets; and I held the last pull-up for a 30-count.

Then it was over to the sloping cement ramp for a dozen slow, full-range decline push-ups.

While in the playground, I had noticed a satellite in the eastern sky for a brief transit time before it faded out of sight. And then I caught glimpse of a bright meteorite briefly flash nearby.

I recall nothing further of note about my walk, and was back home at 4:35 a.m. with every intention of watering front yard garden plants.

I was first checking the ground in several locations to see if it felt damp, and it rather did. But as I was doing so, I heard a couple of people running into the cul-de-sac we live in. They seemed to be along the opposite side.

This is an often enough occurrence ─ young people with an excess of late night energy.

One of the people was female, and it sounded like a probable male companion was playing a game of hide-and-seek with her, for she was rather vocal and kept calling out after him.

There was a large commercial van parked across the cul-de-sac from me, and it may be that the male had run and hid behind it until his female companion had passed along it; he then rushed by on the side opposite her and retraced his route while she continued on unawares.

Maybe if she was not so vocal she might have heard his footsteps, for I certainly did.

She continued on to the driveway of a second house from the van, and still calling out, began rummaging around in the carport while still being noisy, and then even began knocking on the house door while still calling out.

Then she turned back to the house nearer the van and proceeded to do the same thing ─ rummage about noisily in the carport while constantly vocalizing in desperation, and then door-knocking.

No one is going to answer their doors at 4:40 - 4:45 a.m. when its some strange young woman sounding like she's strung out on drugs.

Unfortunately, it was at that point that she finally became aware of me, betrayed by the motion-sensor light by our front door that had turned on when first I came near to the door.

She came pattering directly over to me, calling out, "Is that you?"

I was pretty annoyed by this time, and harshly spoke out, "Well, I'm ME, so I guess so!"

She then recognized that she did not know me, and frantically asked if I had seen her companion, and then began hysterically sobbing that he had raped her.

"Why would he do that?" she wailed.

I had no idea what was going on, for it seemed to me that when she was first seeking the guy, she may have called him by his first name. Besides, if there was no vehicle involved, they must have been on foot together, for why would a solitary young woman be walking the neighbourhood streets at that hour only to be accosted by some guy independently doing the same thing?

In addition, if she had all this energy and could be running around defiantly pursuing him, then why didn't she use that same vigour to fight the guy? He simply raped her and then she got up and began chasing him? Didn't she need to maybe pull up her pants or something? ─ for she was wearing pants and not a dress or skirt.

It made no sense to me.

She certainly looked hysterical enough when I saw her face. She was fairly short, and a wee bit heavy in the thighs, and was all the while clutching a bundle that may only have been her bunched-up white jacket, but possibly there was more to the bundle than I could discern.

So I explained that the guy had already run back in the direction from which they had come. There is a side street another couple of houses along, so he could have taken to it if he did not just continue down the main street that ends here at this point as our cul-de-sac.

I escorted her out of our property, and did somewhat escort her as far as the base of that side street, but she continued to wail that she had been raped, and wondered where he could be, and also kept lamenting, "Why would he do this to me?"

She proceeded plodding along the main street, looking as if she was inclined to start banging on more doors, so I opted to make myself scarce and get back home.

I ensured that the motion sensor light was off once I got inside, for I didn't care to have her easily find her way back and to start banging on our door.

Maybe I'm wrong, but she was high on something other than adrenaline; and I cannot believe that she and the guy she was seeking had not earlier been together. There are no woods or such around here where a stranger could have dragged her to securely rape her ─ there are nothing but homes. There is a park a couple of blocks away, but I cannot see how she could have been raped there, and then got her pants properly pulled back up and somehow chased her rapist and was hot on his heels all the way to our cul-de-sac.

My suspicion is that something went sour between her and a male companion, and she began inventing this crime just for my sake.

But as I said, it was impossible to know for certain ─ however, there was something else not right about her beyond the hysteria of having been raped. If she had been more believable, I would gladly have assisted her, but she was carrying on almost incoherently. There wasn't anything wrong with her ability to run around and cause all manner of disturbance, and that seemed a stretch for someone who had just been raped by some total random stranger.

Possibly she and a boyfriend of sorts had just undergone a fight and he opted to ditch her, and now she was frantic to get him back ─ and thus her irrational behaviour. She was desperate and clinging, and he preferred to have a break from her.

I never dared water the garden plants, but fortunately they did not seem in need.

I may not have returned to bed until at least 6:10 a.m. Nevertheless, I don't think I rose for nigh on three hours. My younger brother was undoubtedly reading the Saturday morning edition of the Vancouver Sun that I subscribe to, for the T.V. was not yet on.

I could easily have remained in bed a while longer, but I believed that my wife might have to put in a full workday today at the Thai restaurant that employs her part-time, and thus would be rising soon if she had not already done so.

It was not too much longer when I heard the T.V. go on, so I ventured downstairs to join my brother, first boiling water for a black instant coffee to wash down an aspirin I would be taking.

When the T.V. was yielded to me so that I could put our Android TV Box to work, I led us off with a 14-minute (14:28) video published yesterday by Odessa Orlewicz: Watch Bonnie Henry DROP The VAX Mandate For BC Healthcare Workers.

Bonnie Henry in BC Canada has just DROPPED the nonsensical covid vax mandate for healthcare workers. John Rustad and the BC Conservatives forced her, Dix, and Eby's hand to "change the science" as soon as the BC Conservatives started polling better than them. John Rustad (and also the independents) were very vocal about dropping the mandate and the public was swaying away from the NDP. Bonnie pretended that the science changed. Politics changed. This woman is a compulsive liar. I also have the video of Adrian Dix's public statement and will post that next...

Despite Odessa's jubilance in her video, she soon posted a qualifying X (formerly Twitter) post: Odessa Orlewicz.

Next I tuned in two videos from Rumble's AMidwesternDoctor channel:

• Jimmy Dore The Suppression of Sleep Medications. (18:38) July 2

• Rogan and Dore on the Ivermectin of Sleep Medications (3:38) July 15

Then it was a 28-minute (28:45) video published "1 year ago" at BitChute's TheWhyFiles channel: Are all these UFOs an Alien Invasion or has Project Blue Beam finally begun?

Your world is not as it seems. Everything you know to be true is a lie.

Hidden behind the façade of our everyday lives is a secret and powerful organization with a dangerous agenda. To manipulate the minds of the masses and usher in a new world order. They call this program "Project Blue Beam".

If the program is successful, we won't see it coming. Borders between nations will be dissolved; all religions will be dismantled; and technology will be turned against us.

The architects of Project Blue Beam will distract us with false flag operations like global pandemics, strange weather events, and news reports of UFOs being shot down all over the world.

What's frightening is: the general population will go along with Project Blue Beam, willingly; without resistance.

Even more frightening?

It's already begun.

I disagree with much of what the host dismissed. Because he does not believe in a Biblical God, he is incapable of seeing beyond anything achievable by Man on his own. Unfortunately, that is not what we are confronted with ─ there really is a powerful Satan.

We also watched a 19-minute video uploaded December 21, 2015, to YouTube's Proper Gander channel: Atlantis - Forbidden Past - Secret Teachings Documentary. However, neither my brother nor I even found it to be entertaining, let alone offering anything educational, so I will not waste space describing it.

The final video was nearly an hour, so we suspended it was some 40 minutes remaining. I will report on it once we've watched it.

There may have been a short video we also watched, but nothing is coming to mind. Perhaps I am wrong and there was no such video.

My wife did leave this morning a little past 11 a.m., so I assumed that she was leaving for work considerably later than she normally would ─ I believe that the restaurant opens at 11 a.m.

After my brother and I had finished watching videos, he sought bed rest before leaving early in the afternoon to socialize. Since this is my Sabbath fast Saturday, I never ate, and thus had returned to bed for a needed nap whenever it was that my brother emerged from his bedroom and left for the day.

I suppose that I rose from my nap around 2:30 p.m., and soon realized that noises I was hearing in the kitchen were not attributable to either of my stepsons ─ it was my wife. She had not gone to work after all ─ probably only grocery shopping.

She was likely still scheduled to work in the latter afternoon, so she soon came upstairs to ready herself in the bathroom. The sky was somewhat dulled with very thin haze, but otherwise sunny; so even though I did not much feel like sunning, I began doing so in the backyard around 2:47 p.m.

Who knows? Maybe I put in a minimum of 1½ hours. But my wife had meantime left without a word to me. She did later text to report that she had forgotten her house key, so I simply responded that she had best ought not to stay out too late.

I will not be watching T.V. with my brother this evening, but I do intend to try and get to bed by 11 p.m., for I desire to rise overnight at 4 a.m. so that I can be on my way by around 6 a.m. on a grocery shopping hike.

Very early this evening I had a fully nude weigh-in to see what my progress has been, for I've taken in no calories since before sunset yesterday; I was around 177 pounds. Certainly I likely was not wearing 10 pounds of clothing (including boots) this morning ere I left on my walk, but I rather feel that my actual body weight loss should have brought an overall poundage spread greater than 10 pounds.

I petered out the daylight by watching some Thailand videos via the SmartTube app that I have downloaded into our Android TV Box ─ no one else was home, so I had the T.V. and the house to myself.

I ended up watching some Udon Thani nightlife videos, since it is the only city I had much to do with. I ended up breaking my fast a little before total darkness, for I wanted to have eaten before my brother showed up. Also, I don't want to go to bed directly after eating, so I wanted to space some distance between the two acts.

I wish that I could visit Thailand ─ and Udon Thani ─ before I get too much older, but that's going to require a lottery win, alas.

💀☠💀☠💀☠ Senseless

It may have been approaching 9:30 p.m. by the time I slipped away on last evening's walk ─ my destination was to be the Green Timbers Liquor Store where I bought another 1½ dozen cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol).

It may be best that I seek to limit myself to just one brew prior to that sort of errand, for I found myself in full control of my attention when I was making payment.

The trip was not uneventful, however. For one thing, I forgot my cellphone, so I was unable to maintain certainty of the time (the store closes at 11 p.m.).

That might not have been an issue, except that something over halfway there ─ travelling Fraser Highway, I had passed well beyond its intersection with 140th Street (Google Map) and was at least a third of the way to 96th Avenue, when someone came upon me from behind ─ it was homeless Charles "Stickman" McCarthy.

It seems he had noticed me back at the intersection and had been hustling along in an attempt to catch up to me, but was a little unsure of my name and thus was not calling out. He was also shaky on confidence because a day or two ago he had hustled after someone else he believed was me, only to discover that it was a stranger.

So he held me up some time in conversation; and as usual, he was both difficult to comprehend at times, and equally hard to get to understand my meanings.

He still has not located the identification documents that somehow disappeared in the widespread debris in the forest where he has an encampment of sorts ─ when we last talked nigh a week ago, he had brought me to the mess in order to show the documents to me.

He now speculates that there is a conspiracy against him, and that certain people are trying to put the run on him.

He also spoke of confirming that there is a cobra nearby his camp; and he tried to explain some other serpent discovery that made absolutely no sense ─ his explanation seemed to involve something serpent-like that easily travelled through the ground and was attracted to the artificial rubber-based soles of footwear. I got the impression that this creature might be able to penetrate up through such soles into the foot of anyone hapless enough to have attracted the creature's notice.

He claimed to have somehow verified this creature for himself, possibly by using his makeshift walking pole to draw the serpent forth.

I asked him about his sticks, for sometimes he has remarkably long poles that might be 10 feet in length. Specifically, I asked him if the police ever harass him.

That was most definite, he said. In fact, just recently the cops stopped him and broke his pole right in front of him.

I don't know if Charles gets wasted on drugs or pot; or if he is naturally unwell mentally merely because of his marginal and solitary existence.

I finally had to explain my urgency ─ that I was after beer, and the store closed at 11 p.m. Neither of us knew the time.

He would have been welcome enough to have accompanied me, but perhaps the notion did not occur to him. Or else he was not inclined to have to travel as rapidly as I was clearly going to be doing.

He did say that he still intended to repay me the $15 I gave him that last time we coincided in the night. I didn't point out that I had actually given him $30, but I had already written it off ─ I do not expect any repayment.

My beer bill for 1½ dozen cans of Cariboo Malt comes to $33.50, I believe; but I always tell them to round it up to $35 by way of tipping.

I definitely had my concerns on the return walk, for I might again cross paths with Charles, and I did not wish to be delayed. I honestly would not mind having even a couple beers with him, but I wanted to get back home to watch some T.V. with my brother ─ we only tend to watch our shows in common three evenings a week.

I got back to find that my wife had shown up after two nights of absence, and my brother was even conscious. After I dressed down in my bedroom and then joined him, and he turned the T.V. over to me so that I could put our Android TV Box into play, I selected Chilling Adventures of Sabrina ─ episode six ("Chapter Twenty-Six: All of Them Witches") of season or part three.

As for my brother's earlier bus transit to rendezvous at a pub with one or more drinking buddies, he was to learn that no one else was coming. He was still okay about going there, however, because he is sweet on a specific waitress.

Well, it happened that she was not on shift.

And that was why he appeared back home around 7:40 p.m.

Anyway, after Sabrina, even though it was only around 12:30 a.m., my brother claimed to be bagged and unable to watch anything further. So I just tuned in the SmartTube app to play random videos, and he ended up watching at least a sitcom's worth ─ we could have watched one of those that we follow in common.

My wife had already gone to bed in her bedroom, for she was to have a full workday today at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.

Following my brother's retirement for the night, I resorted to my bedside computer. And so time elapsed in iniquitous fashion. Ultimately, I do not believe that I got to bed until after 5 a.m. ─ it was already daylight outside.

I did manage to rise ahead of 9 a.m., but my brother was already downstairs watching T.V. This left me scant time to research what videos we might best watch via our Android TV Box.

My wife emerged from her bedroom soon after I did mine. She was to leave us around 10:10 a.m. on her fairly long drive to work.

It developed that my brother and I only watched two videos.

First was a two-hour (1:59:21) video streamed yesterday to Rumble's Vaccine Safety Research Foundation channel: VSRF Live #136: Pfizer Whistleblowers Tell All.

On this week’s VSRF Live, Steve meets with 3 key Pfizer whistleblowers spanning 3 decades of activism against the pharmaceutical giant. First Steve will speak with Kim Witczak, an international drug safety advocate who successfully brought suit against Pfizer after the sudden death of her husband in 2003 due to an undisclosed drug side effect of SSRI antidepressants. She was instrumental in helping to get FDA Blackbox suicide warnings added to antidepressants in 2004 and 2006.

Next, Steve will speak with Justin Leslie, a scientist whistleblower turned investigative and undercover journalist, and producer of the film “Project Whistleblower.” From March 2021- April 2022, Justin worked directly on the COVID-19 Pfizer mRNA vaccine platform in formulations and eventually joined Project Veritas where he produced the infamous “Pfizer Directed Evolution” viral undercover story which proved that Pfizer is deliberately mutating COVID despite the illegality of “gain-of-function” activities. Justin also produced the “Pfertility” story on the impact the vaccine has on menstrual cycles.

Lastly, we welcome back VSRF LIVE regular Brook Jackson, famed plaintiff in the latest high-profile whistleblower lawsuit against Pfizer. Jackson, a 20-year veteran of the clinical research industry, was hired in 2020 to manage one of Pfizer’s Covid-19 vaccine clinical trial sites. When she witnessed egregious legal and procedural violations taking place in the trial, Ms. Jackson notified the FDA – and was swiftly fired. Now it’s Brook’s mission to bring Pfizer to justice and hold them accountable for their reckless and dangerous business practices.

‌Join us for a fascinating discussion with 3 fearless whistleblowers determined to take down Pfizer’s dangerous pharma cartel and more importantly, bring justice to the victims.

They really need to edit their video descriptions when there are changes ─ it was not Steve Kirsch who performed the interviews, but rather Dr. Pierre Kory. Steve did make an appearance, however, to explain his recent sudden potential blindness in one eye.

We also watched a 25-minute July 11, 2019, upload to YouTube's Talasbuan channel: Off Grid Life | Most intense time of the year (making hay).

Episode forty-one, in which we're worried about if we are going to get the hay in before the rain, and other urgent smaller building projects.

It was some bed rest thereafter for my brother. I had an extremely light first meal of the day, and was to bed for a nap whenever it was that my brother emerged from his bedroom and left for the day.

I needed that nap!

There was some very light cloud cover, but I still did sun in the afternoon beginning around 2:30 p.m. It may have been near 1½ hours.

I heard that it is supposed to be cloudy tonight, but tomorrow is expected to be hotter and sunnier than today.

I shall be undergoing my Sabbath fast.

But ere beginning it this evening, along with a supper, I drank a couple cans of Cariboo Malt and one of Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% alcohol) while superbly enjoying two shows here on my bedside computer.

The first was Law & Order: Criminal Intent ─ episode 10 ("Senseless") of season seven. I have only watched the series and that specific season for the five episodes that featured Alicia Witt. This was her final appearance, and so my final visitation to the series.

If at all interested, I watched the episode at this M4uHD.net link, and it played through flawlessly. The opening scenes in which the three young Blacks were basically executed hit me emotionally.

Next I watched The Rookie ─ the finale episode 22 ("Under Siege") of season five. As I said, it was darned good as well.

And if interested, I watched that one flawlessly at this link at TinyZone.org.

I was sorely tempted to eat more than I did; but I also wanted to drink more alcohol, and thus considered some booze.

However, I have an early a.m. five-mile+ walk planned for overnight, and I hope to be in bed by 9:30 p.m. so that I can rise at 1:30 a.m. to begin readying for the outing.

I'm so sick of me and my pointless existence.

It is already 9:11 p.m.

The Dead Owl

Despite not getting to bed last evening until a little past 10 p.m., I set my cellphone alarm for 1:45 a.m. to get me up to begin readying for a five-mile+ walk.

When that time arrived, I did not feel too illy slept; and the house was in darkness, so there was no need to ready surreptitiously in order to avoid notice by one of my two stepsons. For a second consecutive night, my wife had not come home either, so I had access to the bathroom without concern that she would suddenly burst forth from her bedroom to use it.

When I was finally all set to go, my fully clothed weight (sans jacket) was just slightly below the 185-pound mark ─ almost negligibly so.

It was 2:23 a.m. once I was outside the locked front door and set to go under a lightly overcast sky ─ the air was tinged with a pleasant coolness. The cloud cover enhanced visibility in unlit areas due to reflected light ─ when the sky is perfectly clear, terrain with no artificial light sources is considerably darker. Thus, I am able to see my way with more clarity under a cloudy sky.

"Authorities" who never go walking in the dark can dispute that all they may like, but it is true. Just in the black alleyway beside our home, on nights with clear skies, I am at risk of stumbling over obstacles like cement Jersey barriers that might have been shifted from their usual resting places as can sometimes occur; but when the sky is overcast, I can see them quite distinctly and negotiate them without using a flashlight.

The same is true of forest trails. With a clear sky, the trails are almost impossible to make out; but if the sky is overcast, the way may still be gloomy, but at least I am able to discern the trail and its twists and turns without use of a flashlight.

Anyway, I had my usual stop three or so blocks from home at an elementary school playground for some exercise, doffing my jacket to have the usual number of repetitions for the half dozen sets of pull-ups and chin-ups I engaged: 7-2-3-3-2-2.

I always open with a pair of sets of pull-ups, then a pair of sets of chin-ups; the final two sets are pull-ups between a pair of gymnastics-style rings. I hold the final pull-up for a 30-count, although I am failing by then.

And I close with a dozen slow, full-range decline push-ups on a sloping cement ramp.

But this time, later into my walk ─ at least 1½ miles into it ─ I had just left Green Timbers Way and was proceeding along 96th Avenue (Google Map) eastward, or to the right as you look at that map.

There is only a sidewalk along the 'top' part of 96th Avenue. As I was approaching Willow Trail, I could see something laying out on the avenue. My hope was that it was not some unfortunate critter, but only debris of some nature.

Even when I drew abreast of it, I could still not make out just what it was, so I ventured down a narrow strip of mowed greenery between the sidewalk and the avenue, and then recognized that I was looking at a freshly killed owl.

It deserved better than to just be left there to be obliterated by ever increasing traffic, for at this point it was only around 3:15 a.m., so I decided to fetch its body and leave it on the strip of greenery.

At that point I was almost at the mouth of Willow Trail.

When I lifted the owl by its two feet, its wings limply flared out quite magnificently. As yet, it did not seem to have been run over ─ it had only been struck once by whatever vehicle killed it.

I noticed a quite wide possible aluminum band around one of its lower legs just above the foot, so it had been tagged at some point in its short life.

If I had brought a plastic bag with me, I would have placed the owl into it and carried it with me in the gym bag I was carrying that contained my Titan baton flashlight (and stun gun), but I had nothing like that. I felt myself with scant choice but to abandon the bird.

Only afterwards as I was walking towards 148th Street did it occur to me that I could have used my cellphone to photograph the bird and even its leg band. But by this time, I did not feel like retracing my steps because my walk tends to be long enough.

However, I resolved to try and remember to research at home somewhere that I could send an E-mail notification about the owl.

I was to get back home at 4:28 a.m., but remained outside a while to water front yard garden plants. Then once into the house, I got distracted responding to someone's earlier E-mail.

I finally did remember my project, and actually located an E-mail address for the Surrey Nature Centre ─ as you can see on this Google Map, it is on Green Timbers Way and only a short distance from where I had found the owl.

So at 5:47 a.m., I sent off this message:

I doubt that anyone will see this in time for it to matter, but on an early a.m. walk I saw a freshly killed owl on 96th Avenue quite near to Green Timbers Way. 

The time was around 3:15 a.m. 

Rather than leave the unfortunate creature to just get juiced by the traffic that would soon be thick along there, I carried it off to the grassy strip between the sidewalk and the avenue. 

The bird ─ probably a barred owl ─ had a metal band around one lower leg. 

I never thought until after I was on my way in the direction of 148th Street that I should have maybe tried photographing it with my cellphone ─ perhaps there was an identifier on the band that might have significance to someone. 

If a coyote or some other scavenger hasn't desecrated or 'stolen' the body by the time you see this, I left the owl on the grassy strip on the avenue side of the sidewalk, and almost across from the mouth of Willow Trail.

I did get a reply at 8:43 a.m.:

Thank you for your email. It is really helpful for us to know this information, and I have passed it on to Parks staff who deal with biodiversity and wildlife.

Thank you for your concern about wildlife in our parks!

However, my conclusion was that it would be highly unlikely that the owl would still be where I left it. There is nothing but forest on both sides of 96th Avenue in that area, so coyote or other predation by something not unwilling to claim an easy opportunity for an ample meal, is most likely ─ it was already 5½ hours later by this point, and only growing later.

Even if the body had not been disturbed by a coyote or even passing pedestrians (someone might just toss the body into the woods, not realizing that a "Parks" official would conceivably be seeking to locate the bird).

Or infernal crows could well have desecrated the body.

Whatever the case, I am not ever going to know, for I do not expect that I shall be hearing back from anybody who might have gone searching for the bird at the location I had given.

I think that it was around 6:20 a.m. by the time I returned to bed for a little further sleep, rising around two hours later.

I was to gain possession of the T.V. after 9 a.m. because my brother did not emerge from his bedroom prior to then.

We were to watch just one video on T.V. via our Android TV Box ─ an excellent 1¾-hour interview published yesterday by Odessa Orlewicz: The CARD The Canadian Judges PULL To Avoid Having To LOOK At The Science- Important Interview & Message With Tom Marazzo.

An Important Interview With Tom Marazzo- Author Of The People's Emergency Act. How The Canadian Courts Get Away With Not Having To LOOK At The Science, The Importance Of Staying Unified, And Remembering What The Canadian Flag Stands For." The last third is especially important for those Canadian leaders that stood for freedom the past 4 years. https://a.co/d/17Zpq5J To see Tom's Epic Book and Tom's Substack: https://tommarazzo.substack.com

I felt that this video was good enough to post about on Facebook, so I did that.

The morning grew progressively sunny rather quickly. My brother sought bed rest shortly after 11 a.m., for he would later be busing off to rendezvous at a pub with one or two drinking buddies. He was still home when I claimed my nap well into the noon hour after I enjoyed a meal.

This was a bath day, so sunning was off the books. I do not have the time to sun, blog, and bath ─ I just do not have the time for everything. I also want to get out for an evening walk of some description so that I can later sit up and watch at least one of our shows with my brother once we are both back home.

We are actually both home now, for he unexpectedly showed up around 7:40 p.m. To do so as early as that on a bus day means that he probably got bombed fast, for he generally has to take two buses in each direction.

Whatever the case, despite his presence downstairs with the T.V. on, I watched Magnum P.I. ─ episode 16 ("Run With the Devil" "Suffer Little Children") of final season five ─ here on my bedside computer while enjoying a can of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol).

The episode was definitely a good one.

And it played flawlessly at this OK.ru link, although there were Turkish or Arabic or some similar subtitling across mid-screen instead of down low and unobtrusively.

It is presently 8:52 p.m., and the walk is still on, so I am going to commence readying. I would prefer it to be a little darker than presently.

"June"

These three evenings a week when I have my second walk of the day and then sit up late drinking and watching shows with my younger brother are almost brutal.

I am now unsure, but it may have been as late as 9:28 p.m. when I left here yesterday on the 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore, withdrawing $200 along the way. I had lain down for an hour or so beforehand, well feeling the can each of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) and Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% alcohol) that I had drunk earlier.

Upon rising with some desperation when I realized how much time had passed, my vision was as blurred as if I had been lying face down and directly upon my eyes, but that was not the case ─ I believe that I was strictly on my right side.

The store closes at 11 p.m., so I wanted to arrive there well before then in order to have time to leisurely shop. I was to have to walk apace.

My vision issues lasted just about the entire distance. I think that I'm just breaking down ─ my 74 years are becoming more than I can overcome from the ageing standpoint.

I did not buy much ─ I wasn't interested in a punishing load to haul back.

Back home, I was to find my younger brother passed out in front of the T.V. Even after I came upstairs and took my time changing clothes, and then came back downstairs to join him, he remained unconscious despite me taking over the T.V. to put our Android TV Box into action.

I played Riverdale ─ the fifth season finale episode 19 ("Chapter Ninety-Five: Riverdale: RIP (?)"). My brother remained unconscious until most of the episode had played, and then he embarked upon a continuous monologue of commenting that was blessedly in such a low register that to my ears it was little more than gargling ─ bloody annoying, but not too distracting, since there was nothing I felt myself having to actually comprehend whether I consciously wanted to or not.

He drinks himself into senility.

I next hunted up American Ninja Warrior ─ the second two-part episode of the current season 16. Just as I was set to begin playing it, my brother muttered "nothing too long" ─ but in my estimation, he had no say after being unconscious for about an hour since I had been home from my walk. If he was still tired, then pass out again, or go on to bed properly, for Pete's sake.

As it was, the episode did divide itself nicely after almost an hour, so I was able to cancel out at the precise break, and we were to finish watching it this morning. It was approaching 2 a.m. last night, so even for me it was too late to continue with the show.

Honestly, I now cannot recall when it was that I got to bed. I hope no worse than 3 a.m. And I think that I only added two more cans of Cariboo Malt to my drinking total.

Still, I felt rather wasted this morning, waking much too early and then having to struggle for further sleep. I finally rose well ahead of 8:30 a.m. My brother didn't emerge from his bedroom until at least an hour later, so I was in full possession of the T.V. by then.

When he joined me, I led us off with a 21-minute video published earier today at Rumble's AKStraightSpeaks channel: Trump Alive, Biden Dead?; Queen Kamala and DEI debacle on Shadoe Davis.

My hot topics interview with Shadoe Davis.

It was actually quite a fun show!

We watched a couple of other very short videos that I will not mention, as well as another old (uploaded July 5, 2019) video at YouTube's Talasbuan channel: Off Grid Life | Fencing with the Sheep.

Episode forty, in which we're building a fence around our yard

I also watched a 51-minute (51:55) video uploaded April 2 to YouTube's Java Discover | Free Global Documentaries & Clips channel: Thailand's Sex Trade: Return of the Sex Tourists Endangering Children | Documentary.

As soon as Thailand reopened its borders to tourists, the pedophiles returned. And as poverty in the country has worsened, the successes achieved in the past decades in the fight against pedophile sex tourism are now on the line.

Officially, the child prostitution that once existed in Pattaya has ended. But according to child protection agencies and the deputy police chief “the children who are being abused are getting younger and younger, and the violence that is being done to them is getting worse and worse.”  

We investigate how the so-called ‘normal’ sex tourism creates structures in the red light districts that acutely endanger children. We speak to the European men who equate paying for sex as a kind of ‘aid’ and hear the point of view of the women forced to sell their bodies.  We also follow a case of a German tourist, who allegedly had sex with prostituted children in a bar. But to the surprise of the Thai police, he was able to leave the country by paying a 50,000€ bribe. Surprisingly, he agrees to speak to us and admits to the bribe but claims he could not get a fair trial in Thailand.

This documentary was first released in 2023.

I am unsure how much bed rest my brother got before he left for the day to socialize, for I was napping when he departed.

I was pretty much resigned to not sunning today because the morning was primarily overcast, but when I rose from my nap considerable clearing was taking place. I wasn't feeling too well anyway. But around 3 p.m. I decided that there no longer was sufficient excuse, so beginning at 3:02 p.m. or so I put in around 1¼ hours.

It seemed to cloud up again a while later, and then went through another clearing process.

I plan a wee a.m. walk that I would like to try and rise at 1:30 a.m. to ready for, so I shall not be having a late evening.

To that end, the intention was to watch an episode of a series I follow on T.V. while enjoying a couple of cans of brew. I had just gotten into it and was mostly through a can of Cariboo Malt, when I saw my brother's van showing up.

That forced me to shut everything down and hasten upstairs.

The show was FBI: International ─ the premiere episode ("June") of season three.

Wrestling with how to make that can of beer's sacrifice matter, I then resolved to watch the remaining bulk of the episode here on my bedside computer. And the source I used was this link at VK.com that played flawlessly.

I also drank a can of cider. I know the alcohol helped, but I found this episode to be emotional for me. The scenario in which athletic agent Andre Raines (excellently played by Carter Redwood) was under threat of having to have a leg amputated deeply affected me.

I would hope that I would choose death in that situation. It's one reason that I sometimes feel I should live alone ─ it is easier to die alone than to do so with others immediately involved.

Apparently the episode was the 'swan song' for actress Heida Reed (Agent Jamie Kellett). No truly good reason is given for writing her out, but I cannot help but wonder if it had aught to do with her pronounced 'saddlebags' that seemed to me to accumulate over the series on her thighs ─ hardly befitting for an action-oriented character.

I've got to get to bed ─ it is 9:58 p.m. I will have to set my cellphone alarm for 1:45 a.m.

By the way, my wife never came home after leaving for work yesterday.

Pending

Although I did rise at 1:30 a.m. to ready for my five-mile+ walk, and I felt reasonably well slept, somehow I neglected to bring my cellphone with me, so I do not know precisely when I left home nor when I got back. But I will venture that I had to have left by 2:30 a.m. at latest, so the walk is generally little more than two hours before I am home again.

Part of my failure related to the fact that my eldest stepson was downstairs at the dining table watching videos or movies on a laptop. We never laid eyes upon one another, and he may not even have been aware of me slipping away, but having to circumvent him throughout the readying and then the departure is always distracting.

At least I did weigh myself fully clothed, but sans jacket: approximately 185 pounds.

I was surprised at how cool it was outside ─ I had almost forgotten what the coolness of night was like.

There was some delay when I began the short, angling, closed-off alleyway beside our house that leads from the cul-de-sac we live in, out to a main avenue. I came upon a skunk there, and obviously dared not attempt to walk past the aimless creature.

I finally resorted to using my very bright Titan baton flashlight (it is also a stun gun) to keep the animal brightly illuminated until it finally decided to move on, for it was showing no interest in going anywhere ─ there are shrubbery and some blackberry brambles along parts of the alley, so it was casting about in search of whatever it might deem to be edible fare.

So that experience cost me a few minutes. I got the skunk shepherded along until it was finally able to duck beneath someone's chain-link gateway and thus be away from me.

Alas, I never got to exercise at the elementary school playground three or so blocks away when I reached that point. As I was approaching the playground, I could detect somebody seated in the dark on a sort of kids' play-fort platform, so I continued right on past the playground as if I was intentionally taking that route.

I thought that I could at least exercise on the other side of the school at the playground where the younger kids have their equipment set up, but I noticed a grey-hooded figured prowling about with a light such as might be a cellphone flashlight app.

It was all very irritating ─ this was supposed to be my time at the playground to be spent productively. I only have these early a.m. walks three nights a week, after all ─ pricks with nothing better to do can bloody choose some other time to be pointlessly loitering about in the dark, for you can be certain they were not there bothering to work out.

At least the walk otherwise was uneventful; and on my return, I had the school playground to myself. Of course, by then my 74-year-old frame had stiffened up from the walk, but I was able to limber enough that I just barely managed to match my repetitions of late in the two sets of pull-ups (7-2), two sets of chin-ups (3-3), and two sets of pull-ups on a pair of gymnastics-style rings (2-2).

I held the final pull-up on the rings for a 30-count before walking over to the nearby sloping cement ramp where I put in a dozen slow, full-range decline push-ups.

Once back home, I concluded that my wife ─ who had come home at some point while I was still in bed before my walk ─ likely had watered the front yard garden plants, so I didn't spent time doing any of that.

I was back to bed comfortably before 6 a.m.

And there I remained for 2½ hours before I rose for the morning. I was to gain possession of the T.V. because my younger brother did not emerge from his bedroom until at least 9:15 a.m.

My wife was to rise around 9:30 a.m., for she had a full workday today at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time. She left us barely past 10 a.m., which is a little earlier than when she usually leaves on her full workdays.

The main video my brother and I were to watch on T.V. via our Android TV Box was Odessa Orlewicz's effort published yesterday: Full Episode Version (75 minutes) Who IS Mark Carney? This NWO Head Of The Snake May Be Replacing Trudeau/Freeland. Find Out Who He Is & The Carnage He's Done Already.

Interview: Who is Mark Carney? Find out in this episode who "Carnage Carney" is, and why it is a very very bad thing for Canadians if he is installed as PM or Finance Minister. Mainstream news is pushing for him and also saying he may be the next PM. There is a shorter 30 minute clips version of this interview on my profile as well.

Odessa's two guests were Jody Ledgerwood and Cris Vleck of TFM Report.com.

It was an excellent show, but it left me feeling almost hopeless.

Next I tuned in an 18-minute (18:17) video at YouTube's TENET MEDIA that concerned an interview with someone who was present at the rally where the attempted assassination of probable President Trump took place: Eyewitness To Attempt On Trump UNIMPRESSED With Security | Matt Christiansen.

Apparently this is the X (formerly Twitter) account of "KentPittsburgh".

We finished up with a 31-minute (31:42) video uploaded June 30, 2019, to YouTube's Talasbuan channel: Off Grid Life | Unbelievably tasty butter!

Episode thirty-nine in which we make butter, milk some sheep and explaining the timber project

My brother certainly did not have much bed rest thereafter before emerging from his bedroom and leaving for the day to socialize. I had a fairly light meal, and then sought a nap.

The day was primarily sunny and hot, so I did sun this afternoon from maybe 2:25 p.m., putting in what I think may have been over 1½ hours. In my war against tormenting flies (primarily bluebottles and greenbottles), I succeeded in swatting at least two such that they were apparently converted into 'walks' (as opposed to 'flies') that individually had to work their way afoot off into the lawn and were no longer noticeable by me.

I have no idea how long a fly can live that is no longer able to fly. They're still darned nimble; but should something like a hunting wasp come upon one, I don't expect that nimbleness is much going to matter.

Upon returning into the house, I have worked upon this post. But early into the evening I tuned in FBI: Most Wanted ─ episode six ("Patent Pending") of season four. Darned if the episode was not deeply involving.

I watched it here on my computer at this link at MoviesJoy.onl, and once it began successfully playing, it did so flawlessly through to the end, although I do suspect that one particular murder scene was scrubbed or deleted.

I enhanced my appreciation with a can each of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) and Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% alcohol). The plan is to later make the 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore, while withdrawing some money along the way. I do not wish to leave here until well past 9 p.m. so as best to avoid the conspicuousness I otherwise present in the broad day to the throngs of Sikhs and Muslims who apparently now possess the Surrey I first moved into back in late 1956 / early 1957.

They tend to make it quite clear that I am regarded as trespassing anytime I venture forth afoot. And since I do not drive, I have no other option.

But enough for today. I must rest some, for it is only 7:58 p.m., and I need at least some eye-rest in the darkness of my bedroom before undertaking this hike.

God, I hate my life in what Surrey has become!

God Complex

If I am remembering correctly, it was around 9:28 p.m. when I got away last evening on a five-mile+ walk, employing a trail system in Green Timbers Urban Forest Park to best ensure that I would not be using much of 96th Avenue between 148th Street and Green Timbers Way that would massively increase my risk of again become entangled with homeless Charles "Stickman" McCarthy.

I entered Salal Trail at 100th Avenue & 148th Street (Google Map) and worked things thus that I came out onto 96th Avenue via Willow Trail just a short distance from Green Timbers way (Google Map).

Then I followed Green Timbers Way until I could cut through the Jim Pattison Outpatient Care & Surgery Centre parking lot to allow me to jaywalk 140th Street, and from there I took to Fraser Highway and headed towards King George Boulevard.

The only time I used my flashlight was when I entered Salal Trail ─ it was exceedingly dark and I would surely have walked directly into the thick trunk of an evergreen tree. Once past that spot, I was able to see, for I was no longer blinded by street traffic and lights.

My younger brother was watching T.V. by the time I was back home shortly around or just after 11:30 p.m.

Once he turned the T.V. over to me so that I could activate our Android TV Box, we were to only watch two shows.

I led us off with Bosch ─ episode five ("Chapter Five: Mama's Boy") of season one. I was rather pleased with myself that I suspected who the actress was that played "an elderly woman" who turned out to be the serial killer's mother ─ her eyes were what clued me in.

Veronica Cartwright was certainly not looking much like the rather attractive victim in 1978's Invasion of the Body Snatchers (an image here).

She is just under six months older than I am, by the way. I won't be 75 until October.

We also watched The Last O.G. ─ episode nine ("All I Need") of season three. I never said aught to my brother, but I felt that it was preposterous that the main character could possibly sweet talk beautiful Cassandra Freeman into dating him.

After my brother retired for the night and I was involved here at my computer, my wife finally arrived home after having worked the full day at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time. She had been partying.

She was wiped out and practically begged me to water her garden plants in the front yard before I went to bed. I was beat myself, but I felt an exasperated amusement over her asking me, so I did do it.

Perhaps I am misremembering, but I don't think that I got to bed until around 3:30 a.m.

My morning commenced around 8:30 a.m., but I had been awake maybe 1¼ hours earlier and opted to turn myself over and strive for a little further sleep. I had a bit of hangover from the late night and the four cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) that I drank over the course of the previous evening.

My brother did not emerge from his bedroom until possibly 9:30 a.m. or so. When he did, I had a few things lined up for us to watch on T.V. via our Android TV Box, but I will only mention a 56-minute (56:25) video uploaded on August 20, 2016, to YouTube's Real Stories channel: Cult Witness (Cult Documentary) | Real Stories.

At the age of 19 Samuel Stefan, consumed by crisis, was drawn into a cult. It would be 10 years before he was able to escape.

Using a technique called ‘love-bombing’ cults prey on the vulnerable, recruiting new members with love and warmth. After a period of brain-washing, members are forbidden to leave, enslaved through psychological control, and in Samuel’s case, even violence. He was finally able to escape in the dead of night, persued by other members and seek help.

Cult Witness is an intelligent exploration of how cults attract and manipulate their followers, sharing the disturbing firsthand experiences of Cult Witness director Samuel Stefan and six others who have freed themselves from cults: Jill Mytton (The Exclusive Brethren), Jim Bergin and Judy Garvey (The Gentle Wind Project), Lea Saskia Laasner (The Janus Project), and Celeste Jones and Amoreena Winkler (The Children of God).

Analytical insights into the cult experience are provided by leadership expert Betty Sue Flowers; Benjamin Zablocki, chair of the Department of Sociology at Rutgers University; UCLA Professor Emeritus Bertram Raven, an expert on interpersonal influence and social power relationships; psychotherapist Miguel Perlado, who specializes in cult-related problems; and Urs Eschmann, a specialist in legal issues involving cults.

Cult Witness unravels the hidden world of cults; the hold they have on their victims, the reasons people form and fall prey to them and what takes place within.

Maybe I should also mention two older videos from YouTube's Talasbuan channel:

• Off Grid Life | Would you live like this? (20:17) May 31, 2019

Episode thirty-seven, in which we're butchering roosters and experiencing a magical misty morning

• Off Grid Life | Pulled Pork and building with Timber (38:49) June 23, 2019

Episode thirty-eight, in which we're making pulled pork and Mathias father and brother is on a visit helping out with all the projects

After this, my brother sought some bed rest; and without having yet eaten, I was soon to bed in search of a needed nap.

Up until then, the day had been solidly overcast. I was not to notice sunshine until around 3 p.m., so sunning was off the books for a second consecutive day.

My wife had to work in the latter afternoon, and left here around 3:20 p.m. She never rose until after I had taken my nap, by which time my brother had already left for the day.

I intend a wee a.m. five-mile walk ─ I would hope to be away well before 2:30 a.m.; consequently, I really must ensure that I get to bed reasonably early this evening. Ideally, I would like to get up at 1:30 a.m. to start readying for the outing.

Meantime this early evening, I have watched FBI ─ the season five finale episode ("God Complex") while enjoying a can of Cariboo Malt.

It was a good episode, with suspense, excitement, and emotional involvement. I was certain that Agent Stuart Scola was going to lose ... did he and Agent Nina Chase marry? ─ either his wife, their about-to-be-born baby, or maybe even both.

I'm glad the show's producers didn't go for tragedy.

If interested, I watched the episode on my computer at this OK.ru link, and it played flawlessly.

It was tempting to have a second drink, but I withheld.

Incidentally, one of my stepsons transferred a $320 mortgage contribution to my account yesterday, so my present financial crisis has passed and I was able to make a full $500 credit card payment due tomorrow.

The minimum payment required was $256.14, but even paying $500 will probably not see the balance drop by too much over $100. Paying the minimum only sees the balance markedly escalate.

There is also enough money remaining in the account for this Thursday's fortnightly mortgage payment.

It is now 9:06 p.m., so I am done blogging for today.