My ballistic encounter with a dear old friend

January 18, 2025

I was speaking two evenings ago, with a dear old high school friend and former husband in our early 30s, who lives in California, figuring he and his wife are okay, but wondering about their relatives, one of whom lives near Hollywood. The fire was five miles from his house, but the air outside is brackish. He has asthma. Will he and his wife choose to leave? But all his film editing equipment is there; all his cameras . . .

Somehow my friend segued to “bird flu,” how deadly it is. And you know what? I went ballistic. All of a sudden, the fury I have felt for five years, at seeing the people I thought were smart and knowledgeable suddenly turn off their minds, and thus be subject to deadly tests, vax, etc. This man in particular. Extremely smart, he used to be a newspaper editor; he reads deeply, and has developed a profound, subtle grasp of how various cultures morph through time.

So why did he mention bird flu? And how it supposedly kills over what did he say, 50%? 80%?

Oh yes, I suddenly now realize. Because we were talking about how the falling birth rate may eventually eliminate the human race.

So, in a sudden, catastrophic switch, I went ballistic.

Spewing out how this is just another way to get the population terrified, and thus compliant.

“Well,” he responded, mildly, reasonably. “How about covid? That was real.”

And that’s when I really went off . . . Yelled out about what happened to the so-called covid patients who were admitted to hospitals, the deadly Remdesivir (nurses: “Run, death is near”), ventilators, how hospitals got paid for both diagnosing “covid” and deaths “due to covid.”

He was clearly stunned. Muttered: “NO. They did not put people on respirators.”

I went on, spewing out the many other contradictions so-called covid brought up, including this one: covid, basically a flu, had replaced “the flu”! What? Oh yeah, and . . .

Ta

Then I focused in on the immune system, saying this is how I protect myself. I take responsibility for my own health. Keep in mind, I’m still yelling at him. He’s sputtering, trying to respond; I won’t even let him get a word in by this time.

Finally, we called it quits, and hung up. He was still trying to be nice and polite, despite my extended outrage.

Afterwards, and I mean immediately afterwards, I felt bad, shocked that I would go off on him like that.

Overnight I processed that experience, and decided I needed to apologize.

So I did, 24 hours after our first phone call. Just told him that I wanted to apologize for going off on him. He wanted to just see it as a bit of fire in me, and that was okay; that in fact, he had hardly noticed. I knew it wasn’t true. That he had noticed, and had been stunned by my behavior. He finally admitted to being a bit surprised. I went on to say there’s never anything big enough that it should come between us; that we need to just stay with what we have in common, and all will be well. I’m sure he appreciated the call, and I know I sure did.

Looking back now, I wonder if maybe my fury did ignite something inside him; something so that he might think twice about believing the msm propaganda from now on.

In short:

Note: I will be taking Sundays off from this blog for the foreseeable future.

Of WHOMPS, and WALKING, and the primacy of the BODY

January 17, 2025

Will the slowly moving concrete ice on the DeKist roof go WHOMP today?

If you’re like me, you wouldn’t go in and out the back door to that house until it does! So yes, the weather IS slowly warming, though the solar panels on the other (southern) side of roof (which work for both the DeKist house and this Overhill house) are still totally snow-pack covered . . .

Oh wow. No doubt both the whomp and the uncovering will occur today. But: overnight rain/snow/i.e., slush, a total mess by tomorrow morning. And then one day later, back to freezing. Wonder how much of the huge, now filthy snow pack mountains puppy Scampi have had to trudge over on our walks will remain. Hopefully, none.

Wow. Just remembered that we need to perform our annual wintertime Green Acres Urban Farm task of cleaning, sharpening and oiling all the tools!

And BTW: for the past four or five days I’ve really mastered the art of non-slip stomping over  ice patches, while also assessing, with each one, whether or not I could do it safely. And if not, then choose a detour that requires more physical energy, but less danger (like stomping through high piled snow). The result? Maybe five slight slips in all this time. I’ve felt so confident in my newly-earned prowess that I haven’t even put on my newly purchased ice boot clampons. At least, not yet.

This morning, as Scampi and I were beginning a three mile walk (down the middle of the street, no sidewalks on this block), the two middle-aged, massively obese women who live next door came out of their house to begin the exceedingly difficult and tricky task of actually, slowly, carefully, inch-by-inch while holding on to each other, making it out to their car without slipping on ice. I wonder how they view my walking, and the ease of it, the dailiness of it. Especially in that they’re only half my age!

Note to Everybody: It helps, it helps a great deal, if one pays attention to the body, working to get and keep it “in shape,” on a daily basis, no matter how young or old.

We all said hi, cheerfully, both ignoring and emphasizing the contrast between us.

So very grateful that I have made a focus on the body of primary concern since high school, when I began to walk, and walk, and walk, beginning a lifetime of daily pleasure and opportunity.

In more detail:

TT 2 WALKING and where it leads