After rising at 3 a.m. overnight, my six-block walk developed into one of maybe eight blocks (or a mile) because after I had turned onto my street after finishing just over half of the walk circuit, there was a car parked a ways ahead with its lights on and just sitting.
I have no interest in being spotlighted by a car's headlights, providing entertainment to whomever might be within. My damaged right knee makes me self-conscious enough where any passing traffic is concerned. Besides, for miles around the population is largely of South Asian derivation, and I am in no shape to have to deal with any possible threat.
Consequently, I bypassed my street and walked up to the next one, and followed it along.
So yes, now that I consider it, I likely exceeded a mile overall.
I was struck by how quickly my original pace became reduced and even rather sloppy. Although I still carry the five-foot walking stick, I try not to use it and only carry it in case I meet with trouble.
And late into my walk when I had to step from a curb where the sidewalk I was treading abruptly came to an end at an intersecting street, and I was to have to cross to the street's other side because the sidewalk for it only ran along that opposite side, I automatically stepped forth with my good leg instead of doing the step with my straightened bad leg.
Just having my body weight briefly and primarily upon my bad leg when it was extended somewhat behind me resulted in a wrenching of my knee cap that had me hobbling for a bit in a staggering fashion, and thinking to myself, "Oh oh! This ain't good!"
I can use my bad leg to ascend a curb or stairway step if I focus with complete deliberateness; but I have no capacity to bear my weight on that knee when my leg is in even a partly extended state in back of me.
By the same token by way of example, I can do a reverse plank well enough; but I do not seem able to attempt to assume a push-up posture. The same issue is in play when I am lying down on my back and I seek to lift my straightened leg ─ my lower leg cannot be held straight, and droops downward from a straightened position by as much as a couple of inches.
Something is wrong with the stabilizing mechanics of my knee.
The discomfort from that experience lingered with me over the morning and even into the afternoon. It was both disheartening and discouraging, too, for I have no idea how to correct this defect, nor even if it is something that I can correct ─ maybe surgery was required, and now it is 40 days later, and it may have become too late if muscle or tendon tearing was involved.
Anyway, I was back to bed well enough ahead of 6 a.m., but sleep is never easily achieved. Once after what seemed over two hours in bed, I checked the time with an eye to rising, but it was only 7 a.m. ─ not too very much more than an hour had passed since I had returned to bed.
I remained in bed until around 8:15 a.m. or more, by which time my younger brother was downstairs watching T.V. As usual, I did not venture to join him until after 9 a.m.
After I began operating our Android TV Box, I led us off with a 34-minute video published two days ago to Rumble's Bonobo3D channel: Assessing Trees Cut Down in the Monitor Area.
On March 5, 2025 Arborist Norm Oberson staked out an area off Rawlings Trail in Stanley Park, to monitor and assess 13 trees within that area that B.A. Blackwell had marked for removal.
Norm carefully assessed the marked trees, observing and sounding them to determine their condition.
A video of Norm Oberson's initial assessment (March 5/25) is here:
https://rumble.com/v6qdlsm-tree-risk-assessment-stanley-park.html
On April 2, 2025 Norm returned to the area after 11 of the 13 trees had been cut down. Norm inspected the stumps to determine the accuracy of his initial assessment.
For further information: https://savestanleypark.ca
Our next video was 18½ minutes, and had been published yesterday to Rumble's The People's Voice channel: RFK Jr Unleashes Bombshell: Vaccine-Autism Link Proven, Culprits Face Justice.
For decades, the unholy trinity of government, Big Pharma, and the mainstream media have been running a con job on us all—gaslighting the masses into doubting the evidence staring them in the face.
They’ve fed us a fairy tale that autism rates skyrocketing off the charts are just a quirky twist of nature, nothing to fret over, and—wink, wink—totally unrelated to the childhood vaccine schedule ballooning right alongside those diagnoses.
It’s just another vaccine-related coincidence, they say. But the deception has reached its limit—no one can deceive the masses indefinitely.
Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has been digging into their secrets for years, relentless and unshakable. Now, he’s inside the government, and he’s armed with a bombshell so explosive it’s poised to topple their whole flimsy house of cards.
My wife had emerged from her bedroom fairly early into the video and began conversing with her youngest son who was at his computer setup in his den area where he normally works from home. It seems that the past couple or so days, he has had at least one inch-and-a-half long staccato-style series of pinpoint bites on his torso that have him and his mother wondering on bedbugs.
When my brother and I moved Bev and some of her belongings here back in the latter part of February, one item was her dirty, musty-smelling (as in mildew) mattress that had just been lying on her bedroom floor, surrounded by all manner of filthy debris laden with rat feces, for rats had the run of the house she lived in.
Let's just say any housekeeping skills she had ever possessed were long abandoned.
I couldn't even believe that my brother wanted to bring the damned mattress here instead of getting rid of it or at least adding it to the storage unit where some of her furniture had gone, let alone move the mattress into the house.
Some 15 years ago we did have an infestation of bedbugs here ─ and all because they came home with my brother because he would spend a night a week at her residence, and that residence had an outbreak of the damned things. I had never even seen a bedbug before,
So it was feasible that her stale-smelling and dirty mattress might have been harbouring some undesirable sort of wildlife.
My wife broached this topic to my brother while he and I were watching the video, so I paused it. The gist of the conversation was that he agreed to have the mattress moved out into our open carport, and at some point an arrangement would be made to have it collected and disposed of.
It had been just lying on its side all this time in the laundry / furnace area immediately next to my stepson's den section, so who knows?
Our third video was 16 minutes, and had been re-published yesterday to Librti.com: First Nations Band Member Admits The Residential School Story Is BS. Interview With Him (Re-stream.).
Tx to Drea Humphrey rebelnews.com
We did try one further video, but I gave up on it when my brother showed disinterest, so I will not identify it.
We finished with the better than half of an episode that remained of one of the T.V. series we follow ─ my brother wanted us to suspend it yesterday in favour of his bed rest.
It was Chilling Adventures of Sabrina ─ episode one ("Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Eldritch Dark") of season four.
It is ridiculous how dark the lighting for that series is ─ even scenes in the school seem filmed in near-dark. To be honest, we only watch the series now because we enjoy looking at Kiernan Shipke.
If interested, my source was this GOOJATA.to link.
My wife was scheduled to work in the latter afternoon, so I refrained from a nap until after she left shortly past 3 p.m. on her rather long drive. By then I had enjoyed a dish of her excellent leftovers as my day's first meal.
I think that my brother would have done some grocery shopping early this afternoon if Bev was motivated, but she only wanted to sit watching T.V. all day. I am confident that he will not put it off past tomorrow, so I shall have to enlist him to do some shopping on my behalf. I am far too limited in locomotion to accompany him, since it would involve a lengthy torturous walk from wherever he would have to park at Surrey Place (Central City) and through the bustling complex. I cannot pivot nor sidestep anyone, so the prospect is too daunting.
He did leave here on foot, however, to catch a bus to go social drinking. Nevertheless, he was back home shortly after 6:30 p.m. and in decent shape. Thus provided that he has the wits to enlist me by around 8 p.m. to operate our Android TV Box so that we can watch some episodes of the T.V. series we follow in common, then quite possibly I will be sitting up late this evening and enjoying at least three cans of beer. This of course would negate any overnight walk to exercise my bad knee.
But failing his early enough invitation, I shall be shutting myself up here in my bedroom by 8 p.m. or soon enough thereafter to watch something here at my bedside computer, enjoying a beer by myself. I am not Bev's replacement, He can either let her know early enough that he wants to watch our shows and not whatever interests her via our T.V.'s basic cable programming, or he's stuck with basic cable programming for the evening. I will become inaccessible to him once I shut myself into my bedroom.
But right now it is 7:28 p.m. ─ I am going to briefly break from this post to maybe scrounge up a little supper, my second and final meal of the day.
Or maybe I will hold off on that trip downstairs. I can hear him relating the incident about the mattress to Bev, and he is sounding like my wife and her son forced his hand ─ so some 'sour grapes' are being harboured in his heart.
★★★
It seemed possible that my brother was setting things up for me to join him for T.V., because he had turned on Bev's T.V. in their bedroom for her favourite show at 8 p.m.
But then they began supping downstairs, he stretched out in his favourite chair and eating while watching something on T.V. ─ maybe even the show playing in their bedroom.
I waited until maybe 8:10 p.m. and pulled the plug ─ you stupid idiot, I thought to myself about my drunken brother; I am done with you once more. You're on your own.
So I tuned in The Flash ─ episode 11 ("Resurrection") of season eight, and I had my Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol).
Sure, the episode was interesting enough, but it did not in the least affect me emotionally ─ it was entirely lacking at that level. At least for me it was. So I really didn't get anything out of it. If a show does not somehow touch me emotionally, it failed.
However, should you be interested, my source was this GOOJARA.to link.
That can of beer was to be my supper, incidentally. I never went downstairs, so there was no second meal today.
Anyway, I slipped from my bedroom just now at 9:12 p.m. to visit the toilet, and Bev's T.V. is blaring in their bedroom ... but she is downstairs sitting with my idiot brother watching T.V. there.
I have nothing else I care to say.
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