HERE’S SOME very interesting information from two sharp doctors on the front lines in California. It’s an hour, but worth your time. Pull up a chair.
Update: The Bolshevik censors of YouTube removed the video. However, it should still be available right here.
AS OF YESTERDAY, the Kung Flu had allegedly* killed 1, 814 people in the United States.
The seasonal flu, on the other hand, has killed over 23,000 this season.
In the United States alone. And it hasn’t ended.
Which one is sending us into paroxysms of hysteria? Which one is causing us to hunker down at home behind barred doors, close businesses, lay off employees and inflict serious damage on the economy? Yes, the teeny-tiny flu.
This is nuts.
But I have good news from China. Starbucks is reopening 95 percent of its shops in the communist country. While honest information about the Kung Flu is questionable from the Chinese government, the Starbucks reopenings are important.
Starbucks is not a government propaganda outlet. Their reopenings indicate the Kung Flu is winding down in China after a three-month surge.
As of two days ago, if one is to believe China, 3,292 people had died there from the Kung Flu, which is still far less than the seasonal flu in the United States alone.
Yes, the commies will soon be able to order a smoked butterscotch frappuccino with a sprouted grain vegan bagel and avocado spread. Or most any of the trendily named offerings from the Seattle corporate behemoth. Cause for joy.
Now let’s all head outside. Hold hands, kiss and hug.
* * * *
* Read this. Interesting take on things.
I WAS SITTING on our scarlet sofa reading Travels by Michael Crichton who is also a physician. It’s a wide-ranging book that travels beyond physical voyages.
The first chapter is grim. It describes his medical school introduction to anatomy, i.e. dissecting cadavers, a nightmarish experience for first-year students.
I lowered the book and glanced at the love seat beyond the coffee table, specifically at a large, soft, green pillow. It appeared to be breathing. I looked away and looked back. The breathing had stopped.
Or perhaps it had never started.
However, it reminded me of an afternoon in 1997 when I was on a forested hillside in the Florida Panhandle after taking psilocybin. I saw the earth breathing beneath my feet in broad daylight. The leaves, twigs and soil rose and fell as on a supine breast.
Hours later, when the psilocybin had worn off, I revisited the experience in my mind. I do not think it was an hallucination. It was that I saw things one normally is incapable of seeing. I did see the earth breathe because it does.
Traditional religion does not come close to explaining the universe. It is simplistic, written for the common man. Oriental religions, especially Buddhism and Hinduism, come closer than Christianity in their understanding. I think this is due to their greater meditative traditions, which have sent devotees into caves for long years.
Psilocybin is far quicker.
The earth breathes. You normally just do not notice.
Perhaps pillows breathe too. I thought about all this before turning back to Crichton’s Travels and his grisly medical training. Cutting skulls with hacksaws.
I AM NOT a Baby Boomer, and thank the Goddess for that. It is the generation of the flower children, the hippies, the generation that is destroying Western Civilization.
The politically correct nonsense in which we swim today was created by Baby Boomers, and picked up and honed by ensuing generations to the detriment of us all.
I was born two years too early to shoulder any of the blame. I am a late-stage member of the Silent Generation. It fits me well. Here at the Hacienda, for example, 95 percent of the words come from my child bride. But that’s a woman thing. They talk a lot.
Before us Silents was the appropriately named Greatest Generation. We won’t see their kind again anytime soon, and we can thank the hippie Boomers for that.
All three of my wives — one current, two former — are Baby Boomers. Two were early stage and the last, my child bride, is late stage, but being Mexican she exhibits few Boomer characteristics. It’s why she’s a keeper.
This generational naming is a Caucasian thing, anyway, a result of self-absorption, which is a Boomer trait. But Millennials perfected self-absorption, which is why they are also called the Me, Me, Me Generation, or so said Time Magazine.
The Silent Generation. I like the tranquil sound of it. More people these days should follow our lead into silence. Now I’m going to shut up.