Who's Who ???

I should have consorted with my wife last evening to have her sign the new mortgage paperwork that must be received by the bank by the 14th, but I just did not want to expose myself to my younger brother and be asked to sit up with him, operating our Android TV Box so we could watch episodes of three or so of the T.V. series that we follow in common.

I feel myself with no option but to seek her this evening if she comes straight home following her long day working at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.

I was awake when my 3 a.m. cellphone alarm sounded last night; and soon enough, I was on my six-block walk to exercise my damaged right knee. It was dry out there, though still rather chilly. A pedestrian who was just leaving a 7-Eleven ahead of me and who was bound for the intersection that I normally walk to and turn right at, annoyed me because I felt compelled then to cut across the 7-Eleven's parking lot.

In my crippled state, I feel it imperative that I avoid all contact with anyone out there in the night, and thus my choice to avoid the other chap.

But then I saw that had I gone to the intersection as planned and made the right turn, I would have had to pass by a bus stop shelter occupied by what were likely two 'night people'. One hooded figure was seated and with his head hung low; the other was propped up with a bicycle, but he was also hanging his head low. I could only conclude that maybe they had doped out.

I would have been most uncomfortable to have had to walk right past that pair.

Providence, perhaps?

There was nothing else of note about the outing, apart from once again resisting the use of my five-foot walking stick so as best to make my knee and associated supporting structures gain as much of a workout as possible.

I think that it was darned near 6 a.m. before I was back to bed, but that was not to much matter because I slept abominably. I think that I was too metabolically accelerated from having only eaten one meal on each of the preceding two days, while yesterday's meal was lacking in adequate vital animal protein.

So I was distinctly hungry, but intent on defying it.

My younger brother was to emerge from his bedroom just after I rose around 8:15 a.m., but as usual I waited until 9 a.m. before going downstairs for an instant coffee and then to join him for some T.V.

He was actually then seated at the dining table performing some accounting, and looked askance at me and almost sheepishly asked if I had yet deposited the cheque he had given me that was primarily comprised of his share of the annual utilities billing that is due tomorrow.

As I wrote yesterday, I had meant to deposit it as this early a.m.'s walk, but I had discovered that he must have written out the cheque when he was drunk ─ the written sum bore no relation to the numerical sum, there being a $300 difference.

So I handed it over to him, and learned that neither figure on the cheque was correct ─ he had utterly botched his calculation.

Anyway, employing our Android TV Box, I led us off with a 47-minute (45:37) video published earlier today at BitChute's NEM721 channel: THE ARCHITECT.

In just 130-years, one specific tribe has managed to not only strangle the commerce of the world with Central Banking, but almost every aspect of cultural appropriation. This has been achieved through media and academic institutions of which they control. They are embedded deep within European and Western governments. The end goal is to destroy these nations, then rule over the ashes of the entire world. They are slowly achieving this, solely due to the apathy and lack of critical thinking by the citizens of these nations. The "architect" plays the victim, which insulates him from criticism and accountability. Our world is in extreme danger if this is not stopped. They will start WW3 ... absolutely, positively, 100%.

VIDEO {{MIRRORED}} FROM DomDocuments 👇 https://www.bitchute.com/video/QucF5ruYgytu/

SOURCE 👇 https://www.bitchute.com/channel/the_irontm/ 

As I said to my brother at the video's conclusion, I can handle a little material like this, but I could never take a steady diet of it.

We next watched a couple of very short videos I shall not bother describing, and then an hour-long one published March 29 to Rumble's Sunfellow On COVID-19 channel: Piers Morgan: Have Gigantic Structures Been Discovered Beneath The Pyramids Of Giza?

A team of scientists, well-respected in their fields, have made a mind-boggling claim that many archeologists are struggling to believe. A team led by Corrado Malanga from University of Pisa and Filippo Biondi from the University of Strathclyde claim to have discovered huge structures lying beneath the Pyramids of Giza, based on a new technique that utilises Synthetic Aperture Radar (SAR). These structures could be 10 times larger than the pyramids themselves, which is why many researchers and Egyptologists are finding it hard to believe...

For a deep dive into this fascinating claim, Piers Morgan talks to Jay Anderson from Project Unity, archaeologist and YouTuber Dr Flint Dibble, Jimmy Corsetti from the 'Bright Insight' Podcast, Dan Richards from 'DeDunking the Past', archaeologist and YouTuber Milo Rossi (AKA Miniminuteman) and editor of Skeptic Magazine, Michael Shermer.

Original YouTube video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50CFOaCvDSw

I believe that we finished up with a 10-minute (10:36) video uploaded February 11, 2021, to YouTube's The Why Files channel: Aztec Death Whistle | The Scariest Sound You've Ever Heard.

If hell has a sound, I bet it sounds alot like the Aztec Death Whistle. The Aztec Death Whistle sounds like a shriek of death mixed with howling wind. It's so unnerving, that the significance of the horrifying sound of the Aztec Death Whistle has fascinated and perplexed scholars for years.

I'm going to play the sound of the Aztec Death Whistle for you today.

When Spanish conquistador Cortés and his men arrived in the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlán in 1521, they described witnessing a gruesome ceremony. Aztec priests, using razor-sharp obsidian blades, sliced open the chests of sacrificial victims and offered their still-beating hearts to the gods. They then tossed the victims' lifeless bodies down the steps of the Great Temple known as Templo Mayor; in Mexico City.

Andrés de Tapia, also a conquistador, described two rounded towers flanking the Templo Mayor made entirely of human skulls. And between them, a huge wooden rack displaying thousands more skulls with holes bored through either side to allow them to slide onto the wooden poles.

Reading these accounts hundreds of years later, many historians dismissed the 16th-century reports as wildly exaggerated.

But over just the past few years, archeologists working at the Templo Mayor excavation site discovered proof of widespread human sacrifice among the Aztecs. And the proof was none other than the very skull towers and skull racks that the conquistadors had described centuries ago.

The Aztec Death Whistle has been described as sounding like humans howling in pain, or as one researcher said, the 'scream of a thousand corpses'.

As usual with this channel's videos, the show was not quite what I expected or hoped.

My brother wanted me to write a cheque for tomorrow's annual utilities that he said he would deliver today at City Hall, as well as take a big load of empties to a recycler ─ nigh half the load are Bev's four-litre white wine boxes for which the return is a mere dime each. An empty beer can is worth the same, so he gets $2.40 for a flat of two dozen beer cans, but he needs two dozen of those wine boxes to get the same financial benefit.

Bev goes through a box in three or four days.

He said he would write me a new cheque to replace the one he bungled, but if he did write it, I have yet to see it.

He drove off on his errand before getting his bed rest, but I was already in my bed seeking my nap while he was away.

I emerged from my bedroom to find that he was in his having that bed rest; and when he, too, emerged, he was soon enough away to catch a bus so he could go social drinking.

If he has written out his cheque for me, then good; but if not, then that means he is only going to do it when he is once again drunk. The reason he did not write it out this morning when I joined him for some T.V. was that by then he had reached his limit to be capable of legibly writing any further ─ he shakes quite badly due to his years of daily drunkenness (brain / nerve damage, no doubt).

If I do not end up sitting up late tonight watching shows with him and having myself three or so beers, and if he submits a sensible cheque to me, I will make the 1½-mile round trip hike to deposit it in the wee a.m.

Maybe I will even be mailing in the new mortgage agreement. The self-addressed envelope has Montreal, Quebec, as its destination.

As I worked on this post in the latter afternoon, my eyes burned out and I much wearied, so I had to resort to my bed for maybe an hour. Afterwards I was able to spend a little time engaging 50 partial squats to work my damaged knee. I am unable to safely achieve getting my thigh entirely horizontal, but I am getting reasonably close ─ to push it to that ideal feels as if I might be risking something tearing or otherwise becoming debilitatingly aggravated.

And here at 6:16 p.m. this reasonably sunny early evening, I am going to take a break.

★★★

I ensured that I had a light protein-rich supper around 7 p.m.

Dear brother was home no later than 7:45 p.m., I would say. But he proved to be most drunk, judging first from his tone in some loud, short conversation with Bev. Anon she appeared to come upstairs to their bedroom to watch T.V. there, and I could see downstairs that my brother had already passed out.

I waited until around 8:10 p.m. at most and then began watching here at my bedside computer The Avengers ─ episode 16 ("Who's Who ???") of season or series five.

It's always good to witness my two-year love interest at her best ─ Dianna Rigg's Emma Peel. How I did love that woman, youthful young man that I was!

My flawless source for the episode was this OK.ru link.

In just now researching guest actress Patricia Haines playing a villainess ─ one of two enemy agents who swapped minds with Steed and Mrs. Peel ─ I see that she was to die of lung cancer a dozen years later at the too young age of 45.

Because I deem it essential that I see and communicate with my wife when she arrives home ─ I need to discuss the mortgage paperwork with her, as well as warn her to NOT touch our joint chequing account while we wait the week or more for City of Surrey to negotiate the utilities payment represented by the cheque my brother will have dropped off ─ I am resigned to watching some T.V. with my revived brother.

The T.V. is playing rather loudly in their bedroom, whether or not Bev is still conscious and watching it.

So this is all for today at 9:39 p.m. I have already had one can of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol), so at least two more will be forthcoming, unless my brother passes out and frees me up to get to bed. But that will not matter if I have not yet communicated with my wife.