Behind Closed Doors

It was around 8:30 p.m. last evening before I left on my 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore. The walk was uneventful enough, I suppose, but my interaction with the young South Asian cashier who served me was possibly a little unfortunate in that I  think that I left her feeling as if I had been a difficult customer, and I regret that.

Initially while she was scanning my selections that included three tins of sardines, she did them one right after the other in a demonstrable fashion, counting out, "One ... two ... three!"

I said something condescendingly teasing like, "Good girl!" or, "Well done!" And then added, "You must have watched a lot of Seasame Street!"

She looked a bit perplexed at that.

My bill came to $75.04 (rounded up to $75.05 because I was paying cash), so I gave her $90 (a fifty and two twenties because I had no smaller bills), and then offered her a nickle to make it easier for her to return to me what was owed back ─ it would then be a flat $15 instead of having to count out $10 and then $4.95 in change.

But she refused with a surprised smile, declaring that I had already paid far more than was enough ─ $90 when the bill was only $75.05. I had change coming back ─ no more payment was required.

And then she proceeded to painstakingly begin slowly counting out the change at her cash register.

I started explaining that if she only took the nickle, everything would have been far simpler for her; but my speaking to her only added to her uncertainty at the cash register drawer where she was ever-so-slowly working out my owed change, so I decided not to say anything more ─ other customers were waiting after me.

Finally she had it figured out, and then turned triumphantly to me with another big smile and almost lectured me as she handed over the receipt and my change, once again explaining as if I was thick-headed that since I had overpaid with $90 already, and the total was only $75.05, then I had ..." 

And here I overspoke and finished her sentence, "Yes, $10 and $4.95 in change coming back. But if you had accepted the nickle, then you would only have had to pay me back $5 instead of the 95¢ in change." (Or some similar words.)

This still bewildered her ─ she now looked serious and maybe a little annoyed because I was owed $14.95 ─ why would $5 be enough back? Was I somehow stupid?

I understood then that the girl was mathematically challenged and unable to cipher beyond what the cash register read out. If it said a certain figure was what the customer owed, and the customer paid with more than was required, she would dutifully obey the cash register's calculation of the immediate refund and do no processing in her own mind.

So the difficult customer (i.e., me) packed up his purchases and just left, regretting the entire interaction that had begun with what had been a cheerful young lass and who ended being visibly upset due to my intrusions into her duty as she perceived it to be.

To her credit, she did count out my change without error and thus did not 'rob' me like the cashier had done early that morning at Save-On-Foods.

I arrived back home to of course find my younger brother watching T.V. I came upstairs to my bedroom to dress down / change clothes, and then came back downstairs with the couple cans of Cariboo Malts (8% alcohol) that I intended to drink once my brother relinquished the T.V. so that I could put our Android TV Box to work.

I refrained from opening a beer while waiting for that invitation from him; but when a commercial came on and he was still not forthcoming, I looked over at him and saw that his eyes were closed and his head in the process of drooping ─ he was passing out.

So I took control of the T.V. anyway. And as I silently sought out the show I planned on us watching via the few streaming apps that I have downloaded into our Android TV Box, he began snoring.

He revived as soon as I rather loudly began playing Vera, however ─ season or series 12's episode four ("The Darkest Evening").

That was a most engrossing episode!

After it was done, it was all my brother felt himself able to sit up any later to watch, so I tuned in nothing else ─ the random YouTube video I set to play via the SmartTube app held scant interest for him, and thus he headed on upstairs for the night.

I limited myself to the two cans of beer, though I had originally intended a third because I had thought that we might be watching something further together.

Maybe it was around 2:30 a.m. when I got to bed ─ I hope no later. And for a second consecutive night my wife failed to show up.

Although I did check the time later in the morning around 7:15 a.m., I was not to rise for the morning until around 8:30 a.m.

My brother emerged from his bedroom around 8:45 a.m. to watch T.V. and start on some instant coffees.

I waited until a little past 9 a.m. before joining him for some T.V., and by then he was quite quick to invite me to put our Android TV Box to work.

I led us off with a 59-minute (59:02) video uploaded September 7, 2016, to YouTube's Real Stories channel: Behind Closed Doors (BAFTA AWARD NOMINATED DOCUMENTARY) | Real Stories.

With unprecedented access to the Thames Valley Police Domestic Abuse Teams, and the victims of violence they are helping, Behind Closed Doors gives an extraordinary insight into the most common violent crime to take place in the home.

Shot over 12 months, and starting from the moment an emergency call is received, the film follows three brave women who each waive their right to anonymity to show how insidious and terrifying domestic abuse can be.  The complex emotions involved when someone you love becomes violent are also exposed, and the difficulties for police when those feelings mean victims are not completely honest.

With an unfolding, present tense narrative, the film also exposes the lack of consistency in terms of the length of sentence given to offenders. When the Police repeatedly take one perpetrator to court only to have magistrates release him again and again, the film demonstrates how the huge ordeal of going to court for these victims of domestic abuse does not mean that, in their eyes, justice will automatically follow.

Then it was an hour-long (1:02:35) video streamed earlier this morning at Rumble's Stew Peters Network channel: Thank GOD for Israel!

TRILLIONS sent to Israel, Hundreds of BILLIONS to Ukraine (Israel 2.0), and ZERO to AMERICANS who lost EVERYTHING!

As my brother agreed for himself, I could never endure watching Stew's show on a daily basis.

Next was a 12-minute (12:04) video uploaded March 21, 2022, to YouTube's Dates and Dead Guys channel: The Jackson Assassination Attempt: Why would a house painter try to kill a president?

The Jackson assassination attempt is the first of its kind in American history. The would-be assassin fails, but why did he want “Old Hickory” dead in the first place?

Refer to the actual video description for numerous reference links.

We only got about 20 minutes into one further video, but had to suspend it with an hour or so to go so that my brother could have his bed rest.

A very early sunny morning had begun clouding over, and the sky was entirely cloud-covered for the afternoon.

I had not yet pursued my early afternoon nap when my brother came forth from his bedroom to venture off in his van and do whatever he wanted to get done before bringing it back home to leave here, for he would then be busing away to go drinking.

I was in bed when he brought the van back and then left afoot for that bus.

I seemed to nap quite well, and didn't feel as dreadful as I so often do when I was done.

In recent months I have been dreaming much, although I rarely remember any of them. But enough of dreaming.

Early into this evening, hankering a little alcoholic boost to deliver me from the stark bleakness of my present life, I resorted to some T.V. with a can each of Cariboo Malt and Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% alcohol).

My entertainment choice proved most immersing ─ FBI: Most Wanted. Specifically, it was episode nine ("Processed") of season four.

The storyline was well presented, for initially I was quite sympathetic to the central 'villain' Noah who had been told for the past 13 years since he was 15 years old that in a drunken, drug-induced state ─ which he often was in back then ─ he had lain sexually with his five-year-old step sister.

However, he could not remember the event, and wanted to know if he really was "a monster".

But then in the show he murdered a man whose pick-up truck Noah was in the process of stealing, although it is true that the owner was about to use a tire iron on Noah after throwing him to the ground ─ Noah plugged the guy with two bullets from a hastily retrieved handgun he possessed.

And even the child psychologist he had kidnapped was by then coming to believe in Noah's guilt due to his violence and ongoing recklessly threatening behaviour; besides, Noah's father was in prison for similar crimes with children.

At this stage of the episode, I had written Noah off ─ as far as I was concerned, he had to go.

Then there came another turnaround of my opinion.

So yes, a very nicely produced and acted episode indeed!

The couple of drinks ─ and the show ─ got me past most of my doldrums. And afterwards, I had quite a light supper.

I plan to rise at 1:30 a.m. to start preparing for a five-mile+ walk overnight, so I should seek to be abed by as early as 9:30 p.m.

At present, it is 8:52 p.m., so I am going to close this day's post and occupy myself with another matter of importance to me before my bedtime.

Staying in My Lane

I am bummed at myself for failing to remember early last evening yesterday to weigh myself before I terminated my Sabbath fast ─ part of the satisfaction and reward for suffering through this weekly event is to see how much weight I manage to drop.

It was at least 11:15 p.m. ─ maybe even 11:30 p.m. ─ by the time I got to bed, my cellphone alarm set for 4 a.m.

I was to eventually find myself awake enough to decide to visit the bathroom in the hope of deriving sufficient comfort the find some further sleep; and for the first time since getting to bed, I made a check of the time. I don't exactly recall when it was, but possibly it was something like 3:17 or even 3:27 a.m.

It did not allow me adequate time to actually fall asleep, but I was in some level of limbo when my alarm chimed.

My youngest stepson was still up, and wearing headphones while seated in front of his computer in the boys' den area. He was never to lay eyes on me, however.

My wife hadn't come home following her full workday at the Thai restaurant where she is employed.

There was no rush to be going anywhere. My final decision was to put in my usual five-mile+ hike, stopping at Save-On-Foods ─ about ¾ of a mile from here ─ on the return portion of the walk.

I think that I probably left right around targeted 6 a.m., finding it still dark. The sky had clouds, but there were huge black stretches of unobstructed night. However, after maybe two miles into my walk, it was basically daytime, and it was very apparent that the morning was going to be sunny.

There was nothing remarkable about the walk. My shopping experience was a different story, though. For the second time since around midyear, one of the cashiers at that same outlet on an early Sunday robbed me of a few dollars by not tendering me my change.

The bill was $51.85, and I gave her $55. She was so busy hyping the store's app and the potential savings it afforded that she didn't even give me the receipt.

I was aware of this taking place at the time, but it also seemed unreal ─ like I was some detached observer who might not really be witnessing what was going on.

The reality only set in with sheer conviction when I was leaving the store. And so I implicated myself for being a weakling too reserved to cause a fuss, and accepted my full complicity in the $3.15 theft that I had undergone.

It did rather sour the finish to my outing.

There had actually been an uplifting event earlier, after I was over two miles into my walk.

I had left 96th Avenue and turned north (i.e., 'up' the map) along the forested side of 148th Street (Google Map). There is no sidewalk on that side, so I was off the street's shoulder. A couple of cyclists were speeding along towards me, and I was to realize that they were both women, chatting to each other as one tailed the other, and the two decked out in proper cycling gear with the lead woman having a headlight on her bike (maybe the second woman did, too), as well as a bright red tail light on each bike.

Just as they were about to pass by me, the lead woman raised her hand in a wave and smiled to me, to which I responded in kind; and the second woman then also waved to me and sounded out a greeting.

This uncommon gesture of early morning social geniality from two unfamiliar women cyclists had my inner smile beaming broadly for a long time afterwards, and I even prayed that God would safeguard the dear pair.

It is unfortunate that my experience at Save-On-Foods erased whatever was left of that spiritual well-being.

Now something else.

It occurs to me that it might have been last Sunday evening ─ if not, it was likely Tuesday evening ─ as I was coming home in the night and bearing some grocery shopping, I was maybe four or five blocks from home, when a short distance ahead of me as I walked 98th Avenue towards 132nd Street (Google Map), I clearly saw a raccoon crossing from the opposite side of the avenue ... and then another behind it, followed by two more.

By the time the last two had hurried across, I was almost among them. One of them made a noisy effort of scaling a large evergreen, for there were no branches near the ground ─ only the thick barked trunk.

The tree was a mere five or so feet from the sidewalk, but I acted as if I noticed nothing was not interested in anything but my journey, so I hope calm quickly descended for the family.

They all seemed approximately the same size.

But back to this morning.

My youngest stepson was still up when I got back home, probably around 8:30 a.m. or near to it. He must surely have sat up all night ─ I don't know what's going on with the idiot 25-year-old.

After I had put away my purchases and then dressed down in my bedroom, although I did not feel too direly short on sleep, I decided to return to bed until such time as my younger brother was up and had the T.V. turned on.

I soon heard him emerge from his bedroom and go downstairs.

I seemed sorely to decline in bed, yet I was unable to relax enough to sleep. Even so, I had lost any desire to be getting up.

I finally did soon after 9:30 a.m., feeling quite unpleasant. But I boiled up water for a large mug of instant coffee with the works ─ my second of the day ─ and then joined my brother.

He was watching the pathetic pablum that Global News was spoon-feeding him, and showed no intention of turning the T.V. over to me so that I could put our Android TV Box to use and tune in some serious material ─ not the 'tea-time' weak slop that he seemed immersed into, fit only for the senile elderly.

I got disgusted when the main female anchor began interviewing some woman who had written a book about her divorce and how it affected the parents' two kids ─ give me a bloody break! My brother's mouth may as well be wide open in helpless awe ─ as I said, it was just too disgusting a display of mental feebleness for me.

So I took my coffee and came upstairs to my bedroom where I watched nearly an hour of a 2¼-hour (2:16:16) video streamed two days ago to Rumble's America's Untold Stories channel: Free-form Friday 09-27-2024.

🎉 Free-form Friday is here! 🌪️ Join us on a rollercoaster ride through this week's societal events—from chaos and triumphs to total surprises! 🎭 See every twist and turn.
Hurricane Helene has caused massive damage with a dam about to fail in North Carolina. Donald Trump is performing well in recent polls. Kamala Harris still struggles with interviews. New York Mayor Eric Adams has been indicted and Al Gonzales from the NYPD Intelligence division will fill us in.

I paused the video so that I could go downstairs and round up my day's first meal.

Well, my brother had been watching an NFL game, but apparently didn't feel committed to it, so he then invited me to tune something in via our Android TV Box (we only have basic cable programming otherwise ─ i.e., slim pickings).

Reluctantly, I decided to tune in the video for him to watch through the Rumble app that I have downloaded into our Android TV Box; but when I selected it, the app apparently synchronized with the video I had been watching on my bedside computer, and commenced playing from there.

What the heck ─ it was already just about 11 a.m.; he was not likely going to be watching the full video anyway, so I just let it play at the juncture it had determined was proper. Who cares which half of the show he watched?

At most, he watched till 12:20 p.m. ─ but that was the very most. And then it was time for his bed rest.

The afternoon seemed perfectly sunny, but with a chilly wind breezing through the upstairs windows. I could have sunned, but I have just not felt well today ─ an insufficient quota of sleep lately, and too much damaging screen time. Even my thumb joints are again bothering me from constant keyboard use.

My brother had his rest and left on foot to catch a bus to take him somewhere to do his drinking. I then had a deep nap, but it was not as restorative as I needed. As often happens, I felt most unpleasant for a long while afterwards.

As a means of perking up early in the evening ─ for I intend the 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore for a few items ─ I tuned in FBI and nursed a can of Bumper Crop Crisp Apple Cider (7% cider).

I watched the episode on T.V. downstairs via our Android TV Box, risking that I would get through it before my brother showed up. My eldest stepson was away, and even though it is now after 8 p.m., his younger brother is still in bed ─ the young fool, sitting up all bloody night and sleeping away the day.

The episode was really quite good, and I felt my eyes burn a little at the end when a 'guest' character who had been shot died in surgery ─ I quite liked the young woman as played by actress Alaina Surgener, wholly unknown to me.

The episode was season six's episode three ("Stay in Your Lane").

Okay, I've got to get ready and get out of here. I'll be sitting up late watching at least one show with my brother once we're both back home, and I'll be putting down two or three cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol).

It is now 8:20 p.m.

Fire Her!

It was getting close to 10 p.m. before I got to bed last evening, my cellphone alarm still set for 1:30 a.m. to get me up to begin readying for my planned five-mile+ walk. Even so, I still failed to sleep throughout, once rising to use the bathroom.

When my alarm did chime, I sat up and cancelled it. But I was impossibly weary and disinclined to rise ─ there seemed no sense for why I felt this poorly. Even the very cool air of my bedroom seemed unbearable.

I covered back up in bed, and lay there maybe a couple minutes, pondering my dilemma. I am nigh fanatical about my walks, so it was no easy matter just abandoning it.

I could not.

And so I rose; but I was not going to be able to just ready and go. I would need to take my time and slowly adjust to being up and the impending outing.

My youngest stepson was still up, undoubtedly at his computer in the boys' den area downstairs, headphones on and largely oblivious to much else.

An hour passed, and I felt by then that I could handle the outing, so I began readying for it. Fully dressed without my jacket I weighed around 183 pounds; with the jacket on, about 186 pounds.

While I was in the bathroom weighing myself, I heard my wife finally come home after her full day working at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time. It was at least 2:45 a.m. ─ I expect that it was actually somewhat more.

She had conversation with her son, and then seemed to get busy in the kitchen, even though she had turned on the upstairs light just outside my bedroom door. Her bedroom is next to mine, and nearest the bathroom.

I gathered up my kit ─ my gym-style carrying bag primarily containing my Titan baton flashlight stun gun ─ and set a cap neatly upon my shaven head. The cap's peak is to add some projection when I pull up my hood, rather than have the hood drape right down along my forehead. I wear a hood most of the walk now as a measure to keep from being recognized by homeless Charles "Stickman" McCarthy should our paths bring us within each other's vicinity ─ he exhausts far too much of my time, so I now do my best to avoid him.

All set, I then quietly went down the stairs. My wife's back was to me as she busied herself at the kitchen sink, so I simply carried on to the locked front door, almost silently opened it, and then locked it after me once I was outside.

It was 2:56 a.m. then as I set off in the chilliest night air that I have experienced since the Spring months.

By the time I was approaching the elementary school about three blocks away where I usually stop for some exercise, I still felt too chilly to care to doff my jacket for any exercise, nor did I yet feel the familiarity I develop with the dark night that makes me comfortable about venturing to the dark playground.

And thus I passed right on by the school, knowing that I would have that familiar night comfort by the time I was returning home ─ the sole flaw with that eventuality is that I stiffen up and it tells when I seek to perform the first set of pull-ups.

I felt myself to be making pretty good time on the walk, and only recall one incident of note. It occurred when I was walking the sole sidewalk along 96th Avenue between where I access it at Green Timbers Way (Google Map) and my 148th Street destination where I make a left turn, following it over to 100th Avenue, and then back down along that side of Green Timbers Urban Forest Park.

The incident involved my notice being attracted to a tiny blinking blue light in the short grass near the avenue. I almost chose to keep walking, but then my curiosity kicked in.

The blinking blue light was coming from one end of a tube-shaped device, maybe four inches in length. I illuminated it with my flashlight to see if it was identified, for I had no idea what it was. But even reading the printing on the item was no help.

I had risked picking it up, leery that it might be some sort of explosive device. And then the blue light that had been blinking every second or so at most just quit, so I lay it back down on the avenue's cement curb, with the light end of the device facing toward the sidewalk on the chance that the light would start up again and someone who might know what it is would find it.

I meant to try and remember all of the printing, but never thought of it again until I have been writing of it here. I forgot most of what I had read, but I did remember enough to now understand that it was an Allo disposable vaping tube in the "500" class. It seems to me that it was blue or green, and said something about being "ice" or "icy".

It seems to me that last Winter I had found something similar blinking in a bit of a snow cover that we had at the time. I was too leery to pick it up, and just prodded it with something ─ maybe only my boot, or possibly something I was carrying on me. That caused the light to turn off, and I thereafter felt bad for having disturbed whatever it was because it was truly a remarkable sight just laying there is some snow in the dark blinking this almost startling blue light ─ that time, it was along 148th Street.

Now, back at that elementary school and the playground ─ all of my nighttime unease had long since left me. I was also quite warm from my fast walking, so I was not reluctant to remove my jacket.

The equipment was dripping wet with condensation, but I had a bandana and was able to wipe a jungle gym monkey bar dry to allow my bare hands an acceptable grip for the two sets each of pull-ups and chin-ups that I have as part of my routine there.

Alas, I failed to achieve my current opening maximum of eight pull-ups in the first set, stalling at just six. However, the second set comprised three pull-ups, whereas two are my norm. Clearly, it was overall stiffness that cut short my opening set, and I thereafter had the limberness and reserves to allow doing a better than normal second set.

The chin-ups were the usual three repetitions in each set.

And all sets have a 30-count break between them.

Then over to the gymnastics-style rings for the usual two sets of two repetitions of pull-ups between a pair of the rings, but I held the final pull-up at peak elevation for a possible 50-count.

After that, the 14 full-range decline push-ups on a cement ramp were a strainful slow go, and I was cursing aloud in completing the last of them.

But boy it was good to be done! This 74-year-old had survived yet another of these gruelling challenges!

It was 4:57 a.m. by the time I was back outside the locked front door ─ I did very well, for I was only a minute over two hours.

Both of my stepsons were then up, for the eldest was readying for his 6 a.m. 12-hour shift at Tree Island Steel, quite a drive away.

I am reasonably sure that it was after 6:30 a.m. before I returned to bed; and although I had a very broken sleep, I did not check the time until 10:13 a.m.

I hastened up and dressed, but as I feared, my wife had just left on her quite long drive to the restaurant, another full workday in store. We had failed to exchange a word in the time she had been home since her full workday yesterday.

My younger brother was of course watching T.V., so I joined him, and at 10:30 a.m. got his okay to tune in something with our Android TV Box.

First up was a 19-minute (19:46) video published yesterday at Rumble's AnitaKrishna channel: Biased for Bonnie! CKNW questions Rustad's decision to fire her.

CKNW Radio Host Jas Johal shows obvious, plain bias for Bonnie Henry while questioning Rustad's decision to fire her after her disastrous handling of Covid in BC.

Next I tuned in the second half or so of a video we had to suspend watching yesterday. It was 46 minutes (46:55) and had been published July 10, 2019, to BitChute's Adaneth channel: The Emperor of the Steppes.

A 2002 Discovery Channel History Documentary hosted by Adrienne Ciuffo.

Hordes of men on horseback dominated the steppes of central Asia 2,000 years ago. They were the Hsiung-nu and their vast empire reigned from 300 BC to 200 AD. From conquests to defeats, their history is written in blood and fire. Fearsome archers on horseback, the Hsiung-nu crossed the steppes of Mongolia. Opposing the Hsiung-nu warriors was an equally fearsome army, comprised of Chinese warriors who considered the Hsiung-nu to be barbarians.

The first emperor of China had life-sized reproductions of his men placed in his tomb, each with unique facial features. Comprised of foot soldiers, archers, crossbowmen and cavalry riders, this phantom army mounted an eternal guard over its emperor Qin Shi-huang, the Hsiung-nu's worst enemy. Writing was not known by the Hsiung-nu - archaeological remains are the only trace of their history. Now, "Emperor Of The Steppes" takes viewers on an a breathtaking Archaeological expedition to recover traces of Hsiung-nu history at the Gol Mod site in Mongolia. Believed to be the world's largest archaeological undertaking, this expedition may reveal previously unknown insights into Mongolian history dating back to the 2nd century BC. Viewers will gain a close-up view as daylight reaches the tombs for the first time in 2000 years and the Necropolis reveals its ancient riches.

And then it was a 29-minute (29:54) video published March 23, 2023, at Rumble's The Why Files  channel: The Gateway Process: the CIA's Classified Space & Time Travel System That You Can Learn (Really).

The United States military is always looking for new ways to create super soldiers.

They use performance-enhancing and mind-altering drugs. They're currently experimenting with brain implant technology. They've even explored genetic engineering to try and *breed* the perfect soldier.

But those are nothing compared to what happened in 1983; when Lieutenant Colonel Wayne McDonnell submitted a very unusual and detailed report to US Army Intelligence.

It was called "Analysis and Assessment of Gateway Process". This is a step-by-step guide on how to achieve an out-of-body experience for the purpose of intelligence gathering.

But Colonel McDonnell's report went much further than that. An advanced Gateway participant can not just project their consciousness to a different place; They could pull their consciousness completely out of this reality. They could travel anywhere in the universe, and at any point in time.

The report revealed that our universe doesn't actually exist. It's a construct, created by our mind. By using the Gateway Process, you can exit the construct and see reality for what it really is.

The 30-page Gateway report was immediately classified for one simple reason: anyone can learn to do it.

Even you.

The entire thing was utter nonsense to me, but my brother claimed to have gotten something of sense out of it.

I think that was all we watched.

I have not felt up to snuff all day ─ well, last night, too. A vague sense of headache of the eyestrain variety, mostly. But I am in a brain fog as well. I never sleep adequately enough to accomplish all I want to do in a day, and poor vision demands the restorative function of napping.

Of course, today is my Sabbath fast, so that contributes to the brain fog. I have felt unusually hungry, as well.

The day has been overcast, but I am going nowhere out there. I'm basically living today just to make it to nightfall and my clearance to break my fast.

It was difficult quitting my early afternoon nap when there was nothing to be getting up for except hunger and this brain fog verging upon a headache. Black instant coffee and even an aspirin seem to have served me little, but maybe I would feel worse otherwise.

I rose from my nap around 2:45 p.m., just in time to hear my brother leaving to catch a bus and begin his daily drinking. He would probably go to his girlfriend Bev's home, and then they would visit the Whalley Legion.

Or so I am supposing.

At afternoon's end, I noticed some bright sunshine outside.

Just past 6:30 p.m. I made an attempt to phone my late old friend William's ladyfriend Sandy, but as happened when last I made the attempt two Mondays ago, her line was busy. I have too much to do to keep bothering; besides, I was having to use the telephone in my brother's bedroom, so I dared not risk him coming home and finding me violating his sanctum.

Anyway, eating time did arrive, although I had to make do with what are probably restaurant leftovers ─ my wife's notion differs quite dramatically from what I enjoy eating; and her two sons are way too snippy or thoughtless to not waste food, so the obligation to clean things up falls upon me.

I was left too full of soup liquid to care for anything like beer, so I didn't seek to watch any T.V. shows.

I have very early morning plans for a grocery hiking expedition, and intend to rise at 4 a.m. to adjust to departing here around 6 a.m. ─ rising at 4 a.m. will allow me lots of time to enjoy a big mug of hot instant coffee with all the works!

I'm going to wrap things up where today's post is concerned. It's 9:54 p.m. right now, so maybe I will endeavour to try and sit up until 11 p.m. here at my bedside computer before putting myself to bed.

What a life!

Desperate Attempt

Fortunately for me, the rain had ceased last evening when I left here nigh 8:30 p.m. on what I estimate to be the 5.972-mile round trip hike to the Save-On-Foods outlet in Fleetwood.

Mindful of weight, I did not purchase too much to be lugging home in each hand. So maybe five pounds in one hand, and almost 6⅓ pounds in the other.

I could have left home more than a half hour earlier, for it is already dark by then. I just happened to get carried away with a 15-minute lie-down that lapsed into a half hour before I realized it.

My younger brother was already home before I left, so after I got back home and changed clothes in my bedroom upstairs, I joined him for some T.V. He wasted no time before inviting me to put our Android TV Box to work.

I tuned in The Avengers ─ season or series two's episode 18 ("Warlock"). Boy, the production certainly was hoaky, and hardly any effort went into its conclusion. But I love the quaint old cinema styles in vogue back then.

One thing I was most impressed by were the legs on one of the women cult dancers ─ I suspect that it was the character "Julia" played by Pat Spencer, for if you check the five productions she is listed as having acted in, she gets credit as a dancer in three of them ─ so if that included The Avengers, then she danced in four of the five. As for the fifth production, her role is not identified at all ─ she is merely listed as having been part of the supporting cast, so maybe she danced there, too?

I would love to know much more about her, if it was indeed her that I admired so much dancing in The Avengers ─ beautifully muscled legs! Apart from her, though, the choreography was pathetic.

I next intended another British dramatic series, but my brother quibbled that it would run too long at that point, so I instead tuned in My Family ─ episode 12 ("Ben Wants to Be a Millionaire") of season or series two.

My brother deigned to watch a little YouTube via the SmartTube app thereafter, and then he retired to his bedroom for the night.

As often is the case, I do not specifically recall if I was to bed by 2 a.m. or not. The three cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) that I had drunk over the evening probably have something to do with that memory failure.

While I was still sitting up here at my bedside computer, my wife finally arrived home following work at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time. She said nothing, and wasted very little time in shutting herself into her own bedroom for the night. Likely, a tad too much to drink.

She evidently had a full workday today, but did not rise until nigh 9:50 a.m., somehow having a shower and getting herself ready, then heading away on her fairly long drive by 10:10 a.m.

I was to get a text from her at 4:19 p.m. this afternoon:

Hi, if I give you $1,100 around my next paycheque (10 October) is tha ok ⍰

She had said that she would pay me back this Saturday (she owes far, far more than that, however).

She does not yet know of it, but I am going to forgive her debt; however, I will mandate that she must never again expect to be "borrowing" hundreds of dollars from me every month and thereby continuously leaving me destitute.

So I responded back:

Sure -- just don't borrow more before then!

Her relieved reply:

Ok, thank you 🙏 no more borrow🙏😂😍⍰🙏

But I am jumping ahead.

We had a mainly sunny morning, although a mass of clouds did seem to be drifting in late into it.

I rose well ahead of 8:30 a.m., and my brother emerged from his bedroom maybe around 8:50 a.m.

I joined him a little while past 9 a.m., and when invited to again put our Android TV Box to work, I began with a 51-minute (52:22) video published September 18 at Rumble's C3RF channel: C3RF "In Hot" interview with the Hon Brian Peckford.

Major Russ Cooper (Ret'd) engages a spirited and, sometimes, emotional Brian Peckford over the Supreme Court of Canada's decision to pass on reviewing the onerous, freedom-crushing travel mandates levelled on citizens by the federal government. This heartfelt exchange speaks to the very real possibility that the desires of Canadians are being side-lined by both domestic and foreign administrative tribunals that are neither elected nor concerned with the best interests of Canada and its citizens. Strap-in for a must see warning issued by the last living first minister responsible for patriation of our Constitution and Charter.

Poor Brian is really starting to look his age.

Next came Odessa Orlewicz's latest ─ a 47-minute (47:23) video published yesterday: Bill Gates Has A New Netflix Series In Desperate Attempt To Get Us To Trust Him Again!!! Here Are My Notes. I Watched Every Episode & I Have A LOT To Say...

Bill Gates Stars In NEW Netflix Series (ie: PSYOP) In DESPERATE Attempt To Convince Us To Trust Him Again! It's Full Of Gaslighting, Silly Distractions, Full On Cover Up Of The Actual Factual Issues & Attempt At Victimhood With An Appearance By "Dr". Fauci. It Seems Creepily Desperate. Are We Winning? You don't want to miss my play by play summary explaining the latest PSYOP.

Her Rumble source had a more reasonable title: Bill Gates Has New Netflix Series In Desperate Attempt To Get Us To Trust Him Again! A Summary!

We finished our viewing with the last half or so of a movie we had suspended watching a day or two ago ─ 2005's The Amityville Horror.

I had downloaded it because of child actress Chloë Grace Moretz ─ I thought that she was fabulous in The Poker House.

I did not realize that actor Ryan Reynolds was so well-built ... or maybe he's sloughed off some since 2005. Melissa George as his movie wife was certainly in spectacular shape ─ I would like to see more of her!

If interested, the movie is presently available at this link at M4uHD.net.

I have to bring this post to a close, but I will confess that had I been so inclined, I could have sat out in some sunshine this afternoon in the backyard. I just lacked the inclination ─ too much else to do.

I began my Sabbath fast after sunset, and intend to rise at 1:30 a.m. overnight for a five-mile+ walk that I should of course try to be in bed for by 9:30 p.m. (or soon after) this evening.

Right now, it is 9:07 p.m., so that's enough blogging for today.

No Records

As self-appointed, I rose overnight at 1:30 a.m. to commence readying for my five-mile+ walk. Only my youngest stepson was still up, but he was oblivious with his headphones on and situated at his computer in the boys' den area, occasionally talking to someone.

Without a jacket, I might have weighed no more than 183 pounds once I was full dressed to go.

'Twas 1:59 a.m. once I was beyond the newly re-locked front door and on my way under a sky comprised of loads of grey clouds and lots of great patches of black night sky. The earlier rains only had the pavement looking damp, and not wet.

The consideration was there to postpone stopping at the elementary school playground about three blocks from here until I was returning, for I knew the equipment I use for pull-ups and chin-ups would be wet. But since it was no longer raining, I understood that I did not need to have my gloves get wet ─ I should be able to wipe a jungle gym monkey bar dry for use.

And so I doffed my jacket in the chilly damp air and actually managed to hit my highs yet again: 8-2-3-3-2-2. I felt it conceivable that I might have been able to struggle out a third pull-up in that second set, but my fear was that it would take too much out of me and the middle two sets of chin-ups would suffer for it.

The last two sets were pull-ups on a pair of gymnastics-style rings, and I managed to hold the very final pull-up at peak elevation for a possible 45-count.

Then it was over to the nearby cement ramp for a strenuous 14 full-range decline push-ups, and this 74-year-old managed to survive yet one more intense bout of body weight exercising without evidence of a cardiac event or stroke.

I recall nothing of particular note concerning my walk, and I was back home outside the locked front door by 4:01 a.m. ─ so two minutes over two hours, which is not at all worthy of criticism.

And my youngest stepson had retired.

After a time I was to become unduly involved in E-mailing back a chap I've never met, but who met and thus got to know my wife a year or so before I ever met her back in Thailand.

I hadn't heard from him in four years, but he just recently contacted me from wherever it is that he lives in the States ─ maybe Colorado or Virginia.

His current health is dreadful, from his description ─ he's been having a few surgeries, evidently cancer-inspired. He even had a gastrocnemius replacement in one leg ─ something I've never heard of being done to anyone.

Yet he seems to ignore information I have now sent him concerning 'turbo cancers', and has referred to me as being a COVID denier. In that vein, my E-mail this morning included an article written yesterday by a Canadian woman that was published today in Australia's Canberra Daily: It’s official: No records of the “COVID virus”.

Will he bother to read it with any particular care, or will he just dismiss the entire possibility that there may well be no actual virus and that everything related to its existence is a sham?

I am expecting that he will not bother reading the piece. When a mind is already made up, it will not be dissuaded, nor waste time with anything nor anyone attempting to do so.

This effort by me put my return to bed in the neighbourhood of 6:15 to 6:30 a.m., as I recall. And it was around 9 a.m. when I later checked the time and rose. My younger brother was just about to emerge from his bedroom and head on downstairs to boil water for coffee and watch his T.V. news programmes.

When I joined him, at his ready invitation to put our Android TV Box to work, I noticed and tuned in a video that I did not realize was not too much short of an hour (52:33), and had been published yesterday at Rumble's Bonobo3D channel: Bills C-21 and C-36 - Dr. Steven Pelech.

Dr. Steven Pelech spoke about Bills C-21 and C-36 at the Townhall Discussion, Richmond, B.C., September 21, 2024.

Although it was interesting enough, the volume was poor because Dr. Pelech was standing at a podium, and the video and of course the recording microphone were somewhere in back of the seated audience. Short of midway through the video, my brother queried on its length; and seeing what remained of it, he demurred on remaining with it to the end.

So I cancelled out, and then gave a recent documentary a shot.

At 1⅓ hours (1:20:02), this specific source for it had been published on July 10 at Rumble's Check the facts channel: Suicide Killers.

The video description is too long for me to care to reproduce ─ particularly since we did not watch the documentary. The problem was that it involved brainwashed and thoughtless fanatical Muslim suicide bombers ─ or maybe just 'potential' bombers? I can't otherwise see how any successful ones could possibly be getting interviewed.

But we got as far as into the second short interview and gave up in exasperation because it was in Arabic or whatever language was being spoken. I could just make out the rather quick, smallish white English subtitles, but my brother's vision is too impaired. Since I had no intention of maybe having to read aloud the entire bloody documentary to him, we cancelled out.

Maybe there was English afterwards, but I was too doubtful.

Next I tuned in a 58-minute (58:40) video published September 20 at BitChute's TheCrowhouse channel: The Most Sadistic and Indiscriminate Terror Attack in World History.

My brother is very 'down' on Israel's ruthlessness, but even he can see that host Max Igan is far beyond being just an anti-Zionist ─ he seems more like a complete Jew-hater. And he doesn't help his cause by talking what we perceive to be nonsense, such as espousing the possibility that entire mountains are fossilized tree trunks, as well as putting full credence into Tartarianism.

I have no idea how anyone can watch each and every video Max puts out. At best, one every two or three weeks is more than sufficient.

When this one was done, I tuned in a movie I had previously downloaded, but my brother finally announced his departure for some bed rest around 11:30 a.m. with at least 40 - 50 minutes of it remaining, so I will report on it once we have completed watching it.

My wife was scheduled to begin working in the latter afternoon, so she didn't have to leave on her fairly long drive until a little past 3 p.m. However, I am fuzzy now on whether she was up from bed for the day before I sought my early afternoon nap or not.

Apparently my brother went forth during my nap on whatever business he had, and returned to leave his van here before heading off afoot to catch a bus to go drinking at Green Timbers Pub. I was up from my nap when he brought his van back.

When he headed out afoot, he took his umbrella. There had been some very light rain earlier, even though the early morning must have had sufficient sunshine that he closed the living room blinds nearest the T.V. to block off the sunlight's brilliance.

By the latter afternoon it was raining fairly steadily. I am wondering on what I should expect with my planned round trip hike to the Save-On-Foods in Fleetwood once it becomes dark enough this evening. If I have the distance roughly calculated correctly, the hike will be approximately 5.972 miles.

And I must say as I type these words around 7 p.m. ... it has been raining most steadily for quite a long while now!

Perhaps I will put this post to rest, and ready for that long walk. I intend to be sitting up late this evening watching a show or two with my brother once both of us are back home, and for me that's going to include two or three cans of brew.

Change Partners

Last evening's five-mile+ walk began around 8:30 p.m., with only my youngest stepson home. Fortunately, I cannot recall anything of significance about it ─ almost always the best kind of walk. However, at one point as I was walking a major Green Timbers Urban Forest Park trail (Cedar Trail), I wondered if I might be hearing a trickling of water in some tiny creek that I knew nothing of, but anon I concluded that it had to be imperceptible fine droplets of rain.

I was practically home when I thought for the first time that maybe I did feel a very few fine droplets.

My younger brother was home by this time and watching T.V., so I dressed down upstairs in my bedroom and had reasonably soon joined him.

Ere long he invited me to put our Android TV Box to work, and I led things off with the first of two videos.

It was A Touch of Frost ─ episode two ["Mistaken Identity (Part Two)"] of season or series nine. This was also the season or series nine finale episode, for there were only two episodes.

Excellent entertainment, as always!

Then it was Edgar Wallace Mysteries ─ specifically, July 1965's Change Partners. It kept us interested.

I could not easily find a working link for Change Partners in the streaming apps that I have downloaded in our Android TV Box, so I resorted to a browser app and we watched the hour-long feature at this link at OK.ru.

My wife had come home during A Touch of Frost. I am presuming that her pay was finally directly deposited that day.

My monthly pension was directly deposited today, but I never went online to look for it until into the noon hour, I believe ─ even though I was up last night until probably at least 2 a.m. Over the course of the evening's T.V. with my brother, I had drunk three cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol).

When I did go to bed, my youngest stepson was likely still up.

By the way, it was raining steadily when my brother had retired to his bedroom last night, and it likely rained the entire night through and much of today ─ if not all day.

Also, when I got home from my evening's walk, my brother indicated that he had indeed left me the house keys he had gotten cut on my behalf early yesterday afternoon ─ he had laid them on the microwave, a device I only ever rarely involve myself with.

When he had offered to get the keys cut for me, he figured $5 would be sufficient, but I compelled him to take $10 from me.

Well, when two keys were cut, the locksmith or whomever my brother dealt with announced that with taxes the charge came to $9.99! So my brother joked with the guy to "keep the change". Since pennies are no longer in circulation, the tab would have been $10 anyway.

This morning, I believe that it was almost 8:30 a.m. when I rose. My brother had just gone downstairs ─ I heard him pass by my bedroom while I was dressing.

I waited until just after 9 a.m. before joining him at the T.V., getting the okay to start operating our Android TV Box.

I led us off with a 10-minute (10:20) bit of sensationalism published yesterday at BitChute's WIL PARANORMAL channel: MICHELLE (DRAG QUEEN) OBAMA RAPES JUSTIN BIEBER AT DIDDY'S PARTY - KAMALA LOSES KEY STATE.

I'm not going to reproduce the video description ─ go there if you are interested.

Next were two fairly short videos published at Rumble's Laura-Lynn Tyler Thompson channel:

• Streamed on September 21 • Prepare to Stand Tonight in Coquitlam (14:39)

Join us tonight at Westwood Community Church in Coquitlam with special guests, Mattias Desmet and Jim Ferguson. It is going to be an amazing night full of information and inspiration.

• Streamed on September 23 • The Speakers are in Calgary! (8:55)

New link for epic event with Dr. Mattias Desmet, author of The Psychology of Totalitarianism, Jim Ferguson from the UK on what’s coming to Canada and Dr. Bryan Ardis, author of Moving Beyond The COVID-19 Lies. Tonight in Calgary - Tuesday night in Winnipeg.

Then, despite it being far too long to watch at over four hours (4:04:36), I tuned in a video streamed two days ago at Rumble's The HighWire with Del Bigtree channel: Sen. Johnson Roundtable: “American Health and Nutrition: A Second Opinion”.

Senator Ron Johnson and a panel of experts provide a foundational and historical understanding of the changes that have occurred over the last century within public sanitation, agriculture, food processing, and healthcare industries which impact the current state of national health.

We concurred about suspending the video a little before its first 1¼ hours ─ just as Dr. Casey Means was being introduced. Maybe I will ask my brother tomorrow if he wants to continue with the video ─ it was certainly enjoyable enough. I didn't know Jordan Peterson has a daughter named Mikhaila ─ despite her past health issues, she is just beautiful!

We watched one further show: The Adventures of Robin Hood ─ specifically season one's episode eight ("Queen Eleanor"). I had previously downloaded the episode onto a thumb or flash drive. Unfortunately as I reported in yesterday's post, my BitChute source no longer exists ─ the account has been removed.

If interested, though, the series is available here at this RerunCentury.com link.

After my brother returned to his bedroom for bed rest, my wife rose for the day and soon went off to tend to some errands, including some grocery shopping. She had asked that I not lock the front door, for she did not have her house key. I did not seek to learn if it had been lost, or was just not being taken.

This was to stall my nap because both of her sons left, one after the other. And my brother spent far more time than usual resting, for he would be leaving afoot to catch a bus ─ no errands to be run first with his van. If I was having my nap when he left, he would have locked the front door.

Thus I was still un-napped by the time my wife had returned quite early in the afternoon.

Towards 2 p.m. I pointedly asked her if she would be having to go to work later; and upon learning that she had the day off, I announced my intention of the nap, and smartly shut myself up into my bedroom, remaining abed until 3:30 p.m. ─ it was quite a good nap.

I have whiled away the afternoon primarily working on this blog, but from time to time involving myself in other distractions. And so on into the evening.

Had my wife not been home, I might have dallied with a T.V. show and had a beer, but I have contented myself with diverse occupation here at my bedside computer.

I have a wee a.m. five-mile+ walk intended overnight, so I must get to bed in short order ─ it is already 9:31 p.m., and my brother has arrived home from wherever he had gone to drink.

Incidentally, my wife had prepared a very tasty pasta supper ─ it can be good having her home. I just pray that she does not waste her pay ─ I have not yet declared that she is not to be abusing me for any further hundreds of dollar each and every month, for I cannot bear the impoverishment any longer.

💀☠💀☠💀☠ Pressure and Time

There is nothing worse than recurring self-loathing.

I not only failed to get to bed anywhere near 9:30 p.m. last evening, but it was actually just past midnight. My wife had been home some while by then from her workday at the Thai restaurant, but I was hidden away behind my closed bedroom door.

I would have been insane to be trying to get up at 1:30 a.m. to begin readying for any five-mile+ walk, so I reset my cellphone alarm for 3 a.m. and hoped for the best.

A point arrived when I was awake after some sleep, and I recognized that I was feeling passably slept, so I peeked at the time: 2:57 a.m.

I rose then, cancelling my cellphone alarm.

Only my youngest stepson was still up. He was seated at his computer in the boys' den area with headphones on, and occasionally speaking with someone.

So I began readying.

When I was at last set to go, my fully clothed body weight ─ sans jacket ─ was around 182 - 183 pounds.

I got to the front door to sneak away, and had unlocked and opened it ... when I discovered that my house key was not in a card pocket of my wallet where I normally keep it.

I remembered when paying for the litre of whipping cream I was buying at Real Canadian Superstore Sunday evening that the key had half fallen out of said pocket when I was getting prepared to make payment. Did I then foolishly not heed its jeopardy, and subsequently had it again begin to slip out, but this time succeeding and I had noticed nothing?

I had not opened my wallet since that time, for I did not find the door locked when I got home thereafter, and this was to be my first time leaving home since then.

So I checked about around the door just in case it had fallen there; then I went upstairs to my bedroom and searched about fruitlessly. I think that I even had a look in the bathroom.

It was definitely lost.

Was my hike now off? Was I up for nothing?

That was unacceptable.

So I had no other recourse but to present myself to the 25-year-old at his computer, and request the loan of his house key. Since I would be gone for around two hours, I promised that I would leave it on his desk at my return.

Once I was finally on my way under a clear night sky, it was 3:35 a.m. And unexpectedly, the night air felt remarkably mild.

I was endowed with sufficient nervous energy that I made my early stop at the elementary school playground about three blocks away, confident enough that the equipment was going to be dry ... and it was. No condensation.

Off came my jacket, and with considerable heaving and use of my fluttering legs, I was able to pretty much match my late Summer personal bests that had become my targeted norms ... until bad Fall weather will make that impossible, and I would be wearing an encumbering jacket or coat, as well as gloves.

So this may have been a 'last hurrah' to see repetitions of 8-2-3-3-2-2 ─ a pair of sets each of pull-ups, then chin-ups, and finally pull-ups on a set of gymnastics-style rings with the very last of those held for a 40-count (maybe even a 45-count).

Then it was over to the cement ramp for a very difficult 14 full-range decline push-ups, the final of which had me cursing as I struggled to complete it.

And so this 74-year-old finally felt some encouragement.

There was to be one strange event during my walk, and it occurred when I had made the right angle turn that converted 97-A Avenue into what Google Maps indicates as both 137-B Street and / or 97-B Avenue. I just think of that short stretch of road as an extension of  Whalley Boulevard directly on the other side of Fraser Highway.

As it was, I was heading for that very intersection, and had quickly noticed that about midway along the short stretch of road was a large dark mass.

Was it trash? Some large injured or dead animal?

It is quite dark along there. It was not until I was essentially abreast of the dark mass that it seemed to me that I was perceiving the soles of a pair of feet facing my way. In the gloom of the night, I was certain that I could even make out a human form, possibly wearing a hood.

Just lying there in the centre of the road.

My suspicion was that it was somebody overcome with whatever drugs he had been taking, and who had simply crashed there because maybe the pavement had still been fairly warm. There is only the rare vehicle that uses that bit of road so very late into the night.

The figure was 'protected' by being within a painted median of sorts that separates the two lanes; so even though he was difficult to discern in the dark, no passing vehicle ought to be a threat unless the driver was recklessly speeding and not in control, or else was driving under the influence of something.

Since it was after 4 a.m. at that point, I felt that whoever was laying there was relatively safe enough, despite the risky choice.

Of course, he might already have been the victim of a hit-and-run driver.

As I always say, I am not out there in the wee a.m. hours of the night because I want to meet people ─ especially street people, the homeless, or junkies. So I continued on.

Sooner or later even a cop car would travel that route ─ I have seen them. And cabs are abundant enough ─ one of the drivers could contact the company dispatch, radioing in the discovery.

All else I have to report is how much heavier traffic along the rest of my route was to become ─ this is too late towards morning for me to be out walking, so I must ensure that I do not make this weekday error again.

I hurried on to be done with the outing, and was back outside the locked front door at 5:32 a.m., if I am remembering correctly ─ three minutes under two hours.

My youngest stepson had gone to bed, and even his older brother had risen and left for his 6 a.m. 12-hour day shift at Tree Island Steel.

I never returned to bed until around 7 a.m.

It was nearly 9:30 a.m. when later I rose, expecting that my younger brother was watching T.V. But he had not even yet emerged from his bedroom. My wife had already gotten up, though, apparently with another full workday in store at the restaurant where she works part-time.

We were only to exchange a good morning, and then say our goodbyes when she left just past 10 a.m. on her goodly drive.

By then I had been watching a 1⅓-hour (1:22:37) video published yesterday at Rumble's A Warrior Calls channel: PRESSURE AND TIME / WORLD IN CHAOS BY DESIGN.

Thursday Sept 19th 2024 Live Stream
Another powerful stream to educate all quickly on the solution with truth.
Pressure & Time is mounting in our world
There is ONE powerful solution again shown here for the world
Learn WHO you are then we take back Public Courts
Move Claims and Courts against people who Trespass
No Man or Woman can Hide behind the Maggot Lawyers/BAR

Ignorance remains the enemy as this evil worldwide attacks mankind.
We can stop this evil it requires correct conversation FIRST!

My brother had not yet come forth from his bedroom, and was not to do so until near 10:30 a.m. and the finish of the video.

He is no longer a fan of Christopher James Pritchard's episode after episode ranting, so I felt no guilt about having tuned in the episode and watched almost all of it by myself.

I then played some videos I had previously recorded, leading off with the last 20 minutes or so of a video we had to take leave from a couple days earlier. At 1⅓ hours, it had been published on March 25, 2022, at Rumble's America's Untold Stories channel: Levine's Bungalow Colony.

In the 1950s and 1960s working class New York families escaped the city to the Catskills. Mark Groubert of course had more adventures than most.

Mark Groubert's reminiscences can be an absolute hoot ─ I love the guy!

There were two or three short videos I do not deem worth mentioning, and we ended our viewing with The Adventures of Robin Hood ─ episode seven ("The Challenge") of season one.

I have now discovered that my original source on BitChute for the Robin Hood series has had his or her account removed. Fortunately, there are other sources, such as here at RerunCentury.com.

I must say, the bard involved in the show had a most soothing voice ─ was he the same singer singing the theme music? I have no idea ─ the credits say nothing of him.

Oh, dear, it's already after 7 p.m. ─ this blogging takes up so much of my time!

I had thought that my evening walk would involve me visiting a locksmith, but my brother early this afternoon said he would visit one on my behalf while he ran some errands before returning home to leave his van and then head off afoot for a bus so he could go drinking without legal risk.

I pushed $10 onto him of the remaining $15 that I had in my wallet, telling him to get more than one key.

Well, he left, and I soon was into my bed in pursuit of a needed nap. Meantime, he evidently returned and left again, but nowhere are any new keys.

I cannot have my evening walk if at least one of my stepsons are not home. The youngest is at present.

Note that the morning was so brilliantly sunny that I was wondering how to fit in some afternoon sunning. But by midday it had clouded over so utterly that no sunshine made further appearance.

Anyway, I considered having a beer and watching something on T.V., but I decided against having a drink until I was back home again from my walk.

My youngest stepson surprised me with a couple of tartly spiced pieces of take-out chicken that were most welcome, for I had eaten but once thus far. And now I am fortified for that walk.

It is 8:18 p.m., and I must be away!

Flip Flopping

X (formerly Twitter): REAL

I was almost certain yesterday that I was forgetting to remember and mention a morning video that my younger brother and I had watched ─ well, I happened across it this morning by sheer chance.

At 19 minutes (19:27), it had been published on September 19 to Rumble's Bonobo3D channel: Stop Logging Stanley Park!

Michael Robert Caditz is one of a group of four Vancouver residents taking the City of Vancouver to court, to stop the logging of Stanley Park. In this interview Michael reveals what he's learned about what's behind the destruction and harm to Vancouver's celebrated urban forest. The destruction of thousands of trees is causing irreparable damage to the ecosystem, putting the public at risk of injury, and increasing the chance of fire.

Stanley Park Preservation Society
https://savestanleypark.ca

Petition:
https://www.change.org/p/halt-logging-of-stanley-park-immediately

I have now signed the petition.

Okay, about last evening.

It was around 8:30 p.m. when I left here on my 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore for a mere litre of Dairyland whipping cream (33% butterfat) to use in my coffees as the creamer. I still had enough in the container that I am currently using that I might have been able to wait until Thursday evening, but certainly Tuesday evening if not Thursday. I just required a walking purpose.

However, fairly early into the walk I almost abandoned the shopping destination in favour of just having my usual five-mile+ walk, but I had not brought my Titan baton flashlight stun gun ─ I like to have it with me anytime I plan on using any of the Green Timbers Urban Forest Park trail system at night.

Sure, I had my dagger on my hip, but a dagger is a final resource that I would prefer never needing to employ.

So I held fast to the shopping destination, and actually had quite a treat in the form of the woman just ahead of me in the lineup. She was massive!

Either Black or maybe South Asian, she might have just barely topped me in height, but her dimensions otherwise were nearly phenomenal.

She wore a pair of black tights that had a sheen to them, and these encased shapely and hugely muscled legs. Even her buttocks were massively filled out, but not in the way of so many Black women who have a ridiculous caboose that protrudes out behind them in generally grotesque fashion.

Instead, this woman's behind was naturally contoured and proportional to the rest of her ─ so huge in that fashion. Yet it did not project outwards to the sides, either. Again, her contours were completely proper. No sign of saddlebags.

How buttocks can be as juicy and as massive as hers, yet not be at all gross to behold, just mystifies me.

She was broad-shouldered, and wide even in the area topping her sides, having that telltale taper that someone well-muscled has when viewed from the back.

She and the cashier spoke several times, and her voice was definitely female, as was her face.

Honestly, I have never seen a woman in real life with her dimensions. As I said, she was only possibly a bit taller than me ─ so an inch or so less than six feet. But judging by her massive musculature, she would have to have outweighed me.

Yet she was exquisite physically ─ absolutely exciting to this male!

Note that the very light afternoon rain had long stopped, and the pavement everywhere was almost all dried out. But early into my walk I was certain that I likely felt a few tiny specks of rain.

This seemed even more so as I was approaching home. Later on that evening, it was to start raining anew.

Anyway, I got home to of course find my brother watching T.V.

After I dressed down in my bedroom and got around to joining him just ahead of 11 p.m., at that hour he offered over control of the T.V. so that I could put our Android TV Box into action.

I led us off with American Ninja Warrior ─ I believe it was season 16's "Episode 5", the final of the qualifiers. We have fallen well behind in our viewing, so I am going to have to tune the season's episodes in more often than I have been doing.

The second and final show we were to watch was Doc Martin ─ the premiere episode ("Preserve the Romance") of season five. And as usual, it was most entertaining.

After my brother retired to his bedroom for the night, I was to get involved in a damned lengthy E-mail that I never finished off and sent away until 4:16 a.m. ─ I could scarcely believe it! By then the three Cariboo Malts (8% alcohol) that I had drunk over the course of the evening with my brother must surely have burned off.

My morning commenced well ahead of 9 a.m. ─ actually, I believe that I rose even before 8:30 a.m.; I did not expect that my brother would already be watching T.V. downstairs as he was.

I waited until just after 9 a.m. before going downstairs to join him, and get invited to put our Android TV to work again.

First on the agenda was a 13-minute (13:42) video published yesterday at Rumble's AnitaKrishna channel: Jagmeet Singh's Flip Flopping Relationship with Trudeau.

It's the off and on bro-mance between NDP leader Jagmeet Singh and PM Justin Trudeau, that's driving Canadian crazy. Make a decision and stick to it. You're together or you're not!
Call an election then! Let's have a non-confidence vote and trigger a carbon tax election, but no, Singh didn't.

Next were two videos published at Rumble's HealingEarth channel, both of which had been published earlier today:

• SCOTT RITTER - Israel Will Never Again Sleep In Peace! The Shocking Truth l Dialogue Works (43:29)

Source: Dialogue Works
https://www.youtube.com/@dialogueworks01

• CRAIG MOKHIBER, International Lawyer - Western Media Can Be Prosecuted For Its Role In Gaza Genocide (28:05)

Source: Palestine Deep Dive
https://www.youtube.com/@PalestineDeepDive

Normally there would have been time for some further viewing, but my brother had a 1 p.m. memorial he wanted to attend for the local Whalley Legion branch president Tony Moore who had died very recently. 

And so he knocked off ahead of 11:30 a.m. for some bed rest before he rose anew in the early noon hour and readied, then left to catch a bus, leaving his van at home so he could get involved in drinking.

I believe that there was very light rain this morning, but if so, I cannot say if it was an unbroken condition of the night.

My early afternoon nap was enjoyed, and it finished with a pleasant dream that involved some potential relationship-building with an attractive young woman working in some manner of shop.

What is rather unusual is that when I was coming out of the dream, I knew that I had now visited this young woman for the second time and was expecting her to have the same appearance, but her hairstyle was different and thus the aspect of her face.

What is unusual is that I think that my first interlude with her was in some previous dream, and it was how she appeared then that I was remembering.

Quite strange.

When I nap, I usually leave my cellphone downstairs so that I will not be disturbed. When I fetched it, I saw that my wife had phoned me at 1:45 and 2:52 p.m., so I phoned her back.

To my surprise, she had been home briefly during my nap and had even begun a load of laundry that she wanted me to take care of.

But the big deal here is that she wanted me to transfer her $500 ─ she had some dire need for which the money just had to be in some account by midnight tonight; she promised to pay it back tomorrow when her twice-monthly pay is supposed to get deposited into her bank account.

I had to explain that I did not even have $40 to access online ─ I won't until my monthly pension income arrives later this week.

For some reason she did not seem to fathom what I said and then launched into the importance of having the transfer, so I had to interrupt her and stress anew the details of my situation.

This rather alarmed her, for she was desperate about the $500.

She then asked if her youngest son was yet up from bed, for he had not been when she was here. But he was not ─ the 25-year-old can spend 12 hours straight in bed somehow.

So she asked me to have him phone her when he did get up.

I later did that. And it turned out that he told her that he did not have that much money either. However, he may have been lying ─ her sons know that she is a money pit or black hole. She constantly makes the sincerest of promises when these credit-based emergencies of her own foolish creation strike; but sincere or not, there is no reality to her ability to keep her promises.

And so it was going to be up to her eldest son ─ the 30-year-old was at work, having a 12-hour shift today from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. at fairly distant Tree Island Steel.

The younger brother was to tell me that his older brother was unlikely to make the loan either because their mother already owed him a lot of money ─ further broken sincere promises.

I feel sorry for the woman, but she refuses to learn that she should have absolutely nothing to do with credit. She just cannot leave it alone, alas.

Even though this was a bath day, I made an attempt to phone my late old friend William's ladyfriend Sandy, but it appears that I am going to have to look into purchasing either a new connection cord for the old phone here upstairs, or just buy some cheap new model.

I ran out of free time for the call by all the fussing around I was engaging ─ maybe I can just use a cord for the call from the phone downstairs. My brother may be showing up at any point now, so the time to make the call has long gone.

I intend an early a.m. five-mile+ walk, so I would like to try and be abed by 9:30 p,n, to facilitate rising at 1:30 a.m. to begin readying for that excursion. There will be no evening T.V. for me ─ tomorrow evening will be the proper evening for some beer and entertainment.

Darn! It is already 9:31 p.m., so I am wrapping up this post ─ Tʜᴇ Eɴᴅ.

A Rather Different Sunday Morning

I cannot remember if I was still up at 11 p.m. last evening or not, but I went to bed with my cellphone alarm set for 3 a.m.

At something like 2:15 a.m. I found myself awake and in need of a visit to the bathroom. Since it was earlier than I wanted to be getting up for my planned five-mile+ walk that I was going to have in lieu of doing any later morning grocery-shopping hikes, I returned to bed in search of a little further sleep.

When my alarm did finally chime, I felt less rested than I had expected would be so. As a result, I did not force my readiness.

My youngest stepson was still up, and my wife hadn't shown up following working at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.

Once I was ready to leave, my fully clothed weigh-in ─ without a jacket ─ was a rather pleasing 183 pounds. Since my departure on the previous early a.m. walk I had dropped three pounds.

It was 3:35 a.m. once I was outside the re-locked front door. The night sky was seemingly quite clear, and it was not as chilly as it had been on my previous walk.

Perhaps that aspect of feeling not quite adequately slept played in this, but I opted to pass by the elementary school about three blocks from here and not visit its playground for exercise until my return.

There was not to be anything remarkable about the walk ─ almost always a good thing. Even so, about ¾ of a mile from my return to home, I did notice a chap ─ likely homeless ─ seated on the top step of the stairs leading from the termination of what must be 137th Street and thus connecting pedestrians to Fraser Highway (Google Map). The termination of that street is at an elevation of over six feet or more than Fraser Highway, so it cannot be presently connected to it ─ the entire street from 97-A Avenue would need to be demolished and major excavation done in order to reduce the dramatic grade and make connection of 137th Street with Fraser Highway possible.

Anyway, I noticed the guy as I was walking Fraser Highway towards King George Boulevard. He seemed likely to have some baggage with him, and might have been semi-dozing, for his head was down.

My footwear betrayed me and I was not able to pass by unnoticed.

He sounded to be at least into his later middle years and had a rather coarse voice, for he said something like, "Good morning. How're ya doing?"

Without slowing my step, I continued past and simply replied back, "Good morning! Not so bad, I guess."

I had gone some ways further with quickened step when he spake a little more in gravelly fashion that was not by then audible, for he was not putting any energy into projecting his voice; but my impression was that he might have possibly been suggesting something ─ maybe he had some pot or dope; or maybe he was simply soliciting engagement. Whatever the case, I do not undertake these early a.m. walks because I want to meet people ─ well, certainly not homeless males. So I ignored him and was gone from his ken in short order.

I did stop at the elementary school playground. I was not intending my full usual exercise routine there, for I had stopped in during the return on my early Saturday walk just over 24 hours earlier.

But to my huge surprise, all of the equipment was absolutely dry ─ not the vaguest hint of any developing condensation.

Thus I doffed my jacket, and my initial stiffness was in full manifest ─ I only managed four pull-ups in the first set of two sets of pull-ups.

Overall: 4-2-3-3-2-2.

The middle two sets were chin-ups by which time I was more limber. The final two sets were the always strenuous pull-ups on a pair of gymnastics-style rings, but I actually held the final of those for a 50-count, although that count was somewhat quicker than each count in the 30-count that separates my sets of pull-ups and chin-ups.

But even so, I have never held a pull-up at the end of an exercise session for so very long. Earlier in the year my goal and norm was a 15-count.

Notwithstanding, when I next went over to the cement ramp for the decline full-range push-ups, it took all I had in order to continue through to 14 of them, and I cursed aloud while straining with that final 14th.

As often the case afterwards, I almost marvelled at having survived the gruelling session at my age of 74.

It was 5:36 a.m. once I was back outside the locked front door ─ it had taken me a mere minute over two hours. Not having to wipe a jungle gym monkey bar dry does make a bit of difference, for my walk was six minutes over two hours yesterday.

My youngest stepson was still up. I have no idea what's going on with that guy. His mother says that he's been taking some vacation time off work ... but just to sit up throughout most of each night?

Well, the 25-year-old is the one who has to live his life, just as I had to live mine.

I didn't get back to bed until almost 7 a.m.

My morning was to begin after 9 a.m. ─ I do not recall exactly when. It seems to me that is was approaching 9:30 a.m. As yet my younger brother had not emerged from his bedroom.

I went downstairs and put on the kettle to boil for instant coffee, and came back upstairs to my bedside computer meantime. It was then that my brother came forth.

I had not bothered taking control of the T.V. because I wanted to give him his time to go through the Sunday morning edition of The Province that I subscribe to.

Soon enough the T.V. was on, so I then went downstairs to join him, and at 10 a.m. ─ or was it 10:30 a.m.? ─ was invited to put our Android TV Box to work.

I led us off with quite an enjoyable 40-minute video published September 18 at Rumble's AnitaKrishna channel: Un "Safe Supply" in BC- How Bonnie Henry is killing our province.

Podcast with Chris Vee Vancouver freedom fighter and creator of the Real Truth Report.
Subjects discussed, safe supply, BC, Bonnie Henry, fentanyl, overdose. safe injection site.

https://linktr.ee/Anita808

Full video: This Guy's Garage
https://youtu.be/92XcfbTdCE0?si=wQuQOWXbDqLfyVxz

I think that next I tuned in a video I had previously downloaded onto a flash or thumb drive, but my brother wanted some bed rest when there were maybe 20 minutes of the video remaining, so I suspended it for probably tomorrow morning. I'll report on it once we have watched all of it.

The morning had been solidly overcast, oddly enough considering my earlier walk. When it was still so during the noon hour, I had my day's first meal and was in no great rush for a nap because even though I had fully intended to get in some form of afternoon sunning, it was not appearing to be possible now.

My brother eventually came forth anew from his bedroom to tune in an NFL game.

As for my nap, it may have gotten delayed until near or even after 2 p.m. Whatever the case, I enjoyed a rather pleasant dream towards its termination that involved me developing a bit of a close relationship with a very naturally attractive young brunette who had a well-behaved baby (girl, I think) with her. We seemed to be at some sort of retreat.

I am unsure if the baby was hers ─ there is some ambiguity there. She might only have been taking care of it.

At any rate, they seemed to be set to be leaving for (possibly) Vancouver via a bus, so I was feeling some strong sense of loss at her departure, even though there was no likelihood of anything intimate developing between us. I just did not want to have her gone from my life.

But I came out of the dream before any sort of conclusion arrived.

At this point it was already past 3 p.m. And when I went downstairs for my day's third and final mug of coffee, I saw that it was by then wet outside ─ it had been or still was very lightly raining. My brother was gone ─ he had left afoot, so he had left to commence his daily socializing / drinking somewhere.

My wife had texted me at 2:04 p.m.:

Hi, how are you next Saturday I will give you another $1,100 ok

Thank you so much 🙏🙏🙏

So I responded after finishing my nap, and we exchanged a few texts. That was how I learned that her youngest son has taken some vacation time off work (he normally works from home).

I will have my monthly pension late this coming workweek ─ or so I expect. I plan to then let my wife know that she can keep her repayment (there was never a first such repayment, so this would not really be "another" one); but I will caution her to expend it wisely, for I am never again going to be surrendering hundreds of dollars of my pension to her each month, no matter what 'emergencies' may arise.

It there is a genuine emergency, then her two sons would willingly help her ─ they both earn more money than I take in via my pension income. But she knows she cannot easily con them, so she abuses my soft-heartedness ─ it's a form of spousal abuse, in truth.

It has got to stop ─ I need my money. This ongoing hostage situation that finds me destitute month after month needs to be over with.

On another front, I have been getting a couple of texts the past two days from Sandy, my old late friend William's ladyfriend. She lives alone in an apartment in Vancouver and has nothing but time on her hands; and because she can never reach me when she phones, nor get me to call her back at her whims, she is now playing the 'woe is me' card and seeking to guilt me into phoning her.

Part of her text of yesterday:

Wondering why you never call or got back to me

I guess you want to move on...ok that's fine.

Then today:

Hey

Why are you not talking to me? What did I do? I don't know what I did to have you stop talking to me.

She is 60 years old, and should have more maturity than this.

This same woman told me a couple or so years ago that a chap she knew got so fed up with her constant phone calls that he resorted to slapping a restraining order on her.

Enough of that. I may attempt to squeeze in a call now that my early evening is here. Nevertheless, I intend an evening walk ─ likely the 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore for just a litre of liquid whipping cream (I only have $25.95 in cash to spend until my pension arrives later this month).

Thereafter I will sit up tonight watching T.V. with my brother once both of us are back home, and I'll be having two or three Cariboo Malts (8% alcohol) while doing so.

Oh heck ─ it has already become dark, and has been for quite some while. Sandy must wait another day.

I have had a small meal, and now I shall begin readying for my hike. If the rain was maintained, it was so very light that I never saw it falling, nor heard it on the carport roof outside my open bedroom window. I anticipate absolutely no weather issues.

It is 8:17 p.m.