“While the US is spending more money than any other country on the healthcare of its citizens, we are seeing the exact opposite return for our money, as reflected in the leading causes of deaths in the US. In 2016, a study by Johns Hopkins examined data over an 8-year period and estimated that more than 250,000 people are dying every year from medical mistakes. These are known as iatrogenic deaths, which means that they are deaths caused by those who are supposed to be healers. There are other studies that estimate the number of iatrogenic deaths even higher at 440,000. Whatever the true number is, these estimates place iatrogenic deaths as the third leading cause of death in the US behind cancer (around 580,000) and heart disease (around 600,000), and above respiratory disease (around 150,000). With dangerous heart disease medications (statins, beta blockers, ACE inhibitors, diuretics, etc.), along with toxic antibiotics/antivirals, harmful opioids, poisonous vaccines, deadly chemotherapy and radiation therapies, and unnecessary invasive interventions and surgeries that can all lead to deaths that are subsequently blamed on invisible pathogens and/or the underlying health conditions, the argument could very easily be made that iatrogenic deaths are the leading cause of death in the US.
These are wholly preventable deaths that are a direct result of a corrupt healthcare system that is not designed to protect health, but rather keep people as customers returning to the pharmaceutical industry for life. It is a system that was established in the early 1900s by special interests using massive amounts of money flowing in from the Rockefeller and Carnegie families. I previously wrote about the destruction of the homeopathic healers by the robber barons and the real snake oil salesmen of the past which resulted in the establishment of a system that aimed to sell petrochemical poisons as “cures.” It is a system designed to keep people weak and sickly utilizing drugs for invisible fictitious pathogens that are a means to cover up real environmental causes of illness and disease. Following the 1910 Flexnor report, financed by both of the wealthy industrialists Rockefeller and Carnegie, the entire medical educational system was overhauled and restructured away from holistic and natural therapies (such as homeopathy, herbal medicine, essential oils, chiropractic care, and naturopathy) and towards a system of invasive surgeries and petrochemical “cures.” The Flexnor Report recommended the closing of more than one-half of the medical schools, many of which were homeopathic and alternative medicine practices, based on ancient healing traditions, that were in direct opposition to the desired goals of the wealthy businessmen. The report called for a specific program and curricula to be adopted by all remaining, as well as any future, medical schools. Most importantly, it stipulated that all schools must undergo regular reviews in order for the renewal of their long-term accreditation following the initial approval by the American Medical Association (AMA). In other words, in order to remain a medical school and to receive funding, all schools needed to adopt the new medical system that was built upon the new germ “theory” of disease popularized in the late 1800s and the emergence of petrochemical medicines as a form of treatment. All alternative schools that did not wish to play ball were forced into closure. The AMA was given full control over what would be considered medicine as well as those who could practice it.”
An interesting week on the wee homestead, worth a quick update with many happy snaps and a couple of video clips.
We’ve had some wonderful days and nights of rain, too much for most, but quite fine for me. Hubby will unfortunately have to repair some fencing, nothing new there.
All the usual erosion issues will fall on him and his little old tractor once again, so I make great efforts to contain my glee. Our water is out and so is the phone, but that’s not unusual either.
The creek overflowing its banks and the pond washing out.
Shadow sniffing around, but not nearly as tuned into the wildlife as our livestock guardian dogs. In fact, he seems to be a bit allergic to the great outdoors, especially in summer!
I think he prefers his time lounging in the hammock with Daddy. 🥰
He does also appreciate chasing the pigs and goats and sheep, as much as we keep hollering at him to knock it off.
If you’re wondering what’s happened to scar up poor Pattie’s back like that, zoom in on the following photo to find the culprit.
The rains have certainly seemed to wake up the wild life—just in the past few days we’ve seen a scorpion, 2 water moccasins, 2 copperheads, and Hubby even thinks he saw a coral snake.
I followed one for a couple of minutes as he made his way back to the pond.
Water moccasin making its way back to the pond
There are some more pleasant sitings as well, like these, wild butterfly weed (Asclepius) and Prickly pear cactus (Opuntia).
And some cute mushrooms that I haven’t been able to identify.
The garden is doing fine, tomatoes are growing very well, all from our saved seed. Beans and cucs just coming in and the peppers are getting their first flowers.
The first datura bloom, the German chamomile flowering by the snap peas and a nasturtium blooming near the wild spiderwort (a medicinal I’ve posted about here).
In closing, a quick view of honeybees bathing in Poppy pollen.
And other news this post, including Hubby’s big mistake, lots of garden snaps, critter updates and the new normal weather chaos.
Big ones, small ones, skinny ones, fat ones . . .
Black ones, white ones, green ones, yellow ones . . .
Let’s see, perhaps a bit of 80s pre-conditioning before our current day “You vill eat ze bugs!”?
We’ve never seen so many, and such a variety. They do not look the least bit appetizing and clearly the birds agree, or there couldn’t possibly be so many.
I’m not exaggerating when I say you cannot take a step without seeing one. I’m hoping they turn into gorgeous butterflies and soon we’ll have a garden full of them. But I haven’t looked them up yet and they could easily become some voracious relative of horn worms for all I know, about to attack the tomatoes.
They’ve destroyed my spring cabbages and are working on the fava beans and snap peas now.
Fall cabbages in the back compared to spring cabbages up front
At least the goats appreciated all those Swiss cheese-like leaves.
Snap peas don’t last long here anyway and while those creepy crawlers get the leaves of them, and those of the radishes, at least they leave us the fruits.
I’ve already made a large crock of sauerkraut and a quart of fermented radishes. Plus we’ve been getting loads of mulberries thanks to Hubby who has been destroying the tent worms that have been appearing all spring. Those little buggers love the wild cherries too and can easily destroy all leaves and fruits in a matter of days.
So, big kudos to Hubby for coming to the rescue, and spending a fair amount of tedious time harvesting these little beauties as well.
But, Hubby is also responsible for the misdemeanor crime of killing our potatoes! I should’ve caught it. I know, he was just trying to help. So, he filled our potato buckets with too much compost too fast and now we have potato disaster.
Lesson learned, you can only add a couple inches at a time, even if the greens are much taller than that.
I’ve got lots of herbs companion planted with the tomatoes that are all looking great.
Thyme, cilantro and dill growing between tomatoes
One of the best garden decisions I’ve made is far more flowers in the garden. Not only to attract pollinators, but to attract us too. It’s a far more inviting space than just rows of crops and makes me want to go in and play. 😊
The Peggy Martin rose just one year after planting a cutting from a friend.
And the Burr rose, many years old, huge and seemingly indestructible, even from constant nibbling by the sheep and goats.
And one of my garden favorites, which my photo doesn’t do justice at all: Nigella, a delicious seed and lovely tiny blooms in blue and white.
Their seeds have a grape-like flavor and are delicious in bread and kombucha.
A larger garden view
Another fruit that so far seems successful are the persimmons. We have both Virginia and Asian planted and the flowers on them are so unique, just like their fruits.
I’ve also got the citrus planted at last and I’m so excited! I cannot fail! (Says no one but me and I’ve gotten quite a few discouraging words from others on this venture.)
Planted along with the new ‘kiss me under the garden gate’ flower which is doing quite well, and the still unfinished wattle fence.
In the best news we have our first kids just born this morning. Milking season approaches too quickly!
The weather madness continues, unfortunately. Big surprise.
Some still think these are contrails! Good grief!
This weekend’s forecast looks like a drop-down menu: 1/16th inch rain possible, or severe storms, or flooding, or hail, or tornadoes. Try planning for those options, peasants! 😩
Hope life is a little more predictable in your neck of the woods!
I have to applaud our reader Highlander for sharing this musician who has me laughing so hard I have tears streaming down my cheeks! Nothing like a good laugh for health. So, first the fun stuff.
I believe this kind of ‘meaningful entertainment’ is an excellent way to spread the word about unpleasant news.
Another good one I’ve shared in the past, not a parody tune, a ballad, and very sad.
And, winding down, if you can muster the courage, Dane’s weekly Bad News Broadcast, which I never miss (much to Hubby’s chagrin!)
Keep laughin’, keep preppin’, and thanks for stopping by! 🤗
“The side effect of digitising the world is to sever you from your analogue conscious mind. The truth is that relationships, time, value, purpose, experience, sacrifice, humour, love, consciousness, and the sacred are irreducible to algorithm or anything else. And everybody knows this. Meaning precedes reason.
We don’t need to worry about artificial intelligence so much as we should be wholly concerned with the ‘artificialising’ of intelligence.
Once the world is digitised, behaviour is driven from the outside. The lie they sell you is that your unconscious desires are driving your behaviour. Bullshit, it’s all propaganda: fear porn, actual porn, manufactured crisis, the science, climate malarkey, nudges, lies, trickery, deception, politics, debt, consensus, tv, Netflix, social media, education, race, employment, news, suggestion, hypnotic repetition, drugs – legal and illegal, atheism, bad parenting advice, academia, institutional subservience, centralisation, new age mumbo-jumbo, the internet, trans, psychological conditioning, behavioural science and war. All lies. Everywhere.”
“The loss of memory by a nation is also a loss of its conscience” – Zbigniew Herbert
Almost entirely happy snaps and almost no complaining at all, really! The garden is mostly great, the weather mostly fine, summer in full swing already, ready or not.
It’s been busy around here, as usual. But, busy in the country way, which is very different. Our preservation season has already begun, and it’s fixing to get very busy very soon. I have mixed feelings about that, but here it is anyway.
I’ve been saving the rose petals for drying and kombucha after admiring their scent and beauty in many lights and angles.
The poppies continue to pop up in random places, among the roses and in cracks and crevices, like dandelions.
And the bees love them as much as I do.
Another rose variety, the thornless Peggy Martin, I just planted last year, is now getting its first blooms.
I’m so very pleased with the transition from cool-season coral honeysuckle blooms to the Dortmond rose takeover, lovely! I especially like the short spell they co-habitat.
The wattle fence I began with the best intentions is languishing due to too many other priorities. It has been a sheep deterrent at least, since the mamas and lambs have taken over the front yard. And even Shadow doesn’t dare stand in their way!
This is where the citrus will go, my new big project. I’m even considering throwing an avocado in there too. I know, very ambitious! But, I want to give some of the new methods a try and it seems like a good time. This side of the house is ideal, the house breaking the north wind and the heavy late afternoon sun. Plus, there’s the extra warmth accumulated in the walls of the house to help in cold snaps, along with the extra heating and draping methods that seem to be working for others.
Ooohhh, anticipation!
Just like the tomatoes and cucumbers coming so soon, right around the corner, and I can hardly wait. The last fermented cucumbers we used up a week ago, amazingly, and they were still crispy and flavorful. I plan to continue and expand my fermenting efforts this summer and fall. More herb pastes, more tea blends, more spice mixes.
The lambs are still doing fine, my how fast they grow.
Spring lambs on springs! 😆
My garden mascots, two white rabbits.
And my single complaint—the spray continues to ruin our beautiful days.
Is this why we can so clearly see these colors, because we have an atmosphere saturated with reflective particulate matter?
Cool pic, or chem-filled haze?
“I’m no prophet Lord, I don’t know nature’s ways.” ‘Anticipation’ by Carly Simon
When I lived in Europe in the 90s it was not too uncommon to see an amazing castle for sale for a pittance. I do mean a real castle, or a vast country estate that included a structure that once was a castle.
And I do mean a pittance, as in, they were not able to give these places away.
Vauburg, France (not my image), bit of a multi-generational hodge-podge.
Sometimes that was because they came with strings attached, so I can understand. Or it was designated for a specific purpose or with strict regulations. You had to restore it, for example, which was something that cost so much that the just wealthy could not afford it.
I had a French boyfriend for a while, who boasted some aristocratic lineage and took me to the castle where his aunt still lived. I marveled at the exquisite property and at the lingering formality of his kin who addressed each other, that is as husband and wife, in the formal, using ‘vous’.
Maybe the uber-wealthy could afford it, if they cared to, but they just didn’t have the interest?
Or, which I’m actually more inclined to think these days, even with their fortunes, they would not be able to restore it. Because the skills to accomplish such an extraordinary endeavor have been lost to time.
A single example of the dozens of architectural marvels which have been destroyed in our little city, with more on the chopping block all the time.
In those days I dreamed of becoming a travel writer, or a writer of historical fiction. So, it’s not a huge stretch for me now to covet an interest in such parallel stories here, today, locally.
This is the closest real city to us, Palestine. What I’d call a small city today, though growing steadily. It was never more than a small city, as far as population goes. Just how it amassed such an amazing amount of great architecture is a real mystery to me. Though there are official stories.
I knew there was some interesting history there, and all around here, but it’s not like I’ve had a lot of time for exploring such idle pastimes, with all the work trying to build up a homestead.
But lately I’ve been squeezing in some time and loving it!
And of course, you’ve got to blossom where you’re planted. I used to tour every castle or abbey or old walls or ruins I could find, whether in the Old Town of any European city or hamlet, or a day hike away from the nearest bus stop.
This Old World has entered center stage for me again thanks to the Cyber World, which is really kinda crazy. But, true.
I’ve seen this old church for sale the last few times while driving through the downtown streets marveling at the old buildings.
I stop for lunch, and at a favorite antique shop, where I see tourists, which I find delightful. Though they only have much interest in the antique shops and the cafes and the provided entertainment. Still, it’s fun hearing German in the tourist office and hearing ladies from places all around the region, even in a rainstorm, there to peruse what our little city has to offer.
I was a novice travel writer, until I met the love of my life, who I managed to lure from the beaches of Thailand to a trailer park in Mena, Arkansas.
Hubby and I at ‘Roman ruins’ in Spain 2003—note our cute matching outfits—that was not planned.
And look who returned the favor by luring me into the deep woods of East Texas to spend an exceptional amount of time doing menial labor. 😏
I was also a beginner tour guide, Mayflower Tours. I lasted about two weeks, until I realized how unsuited I was to a job hosting a bus full of retirees for four-day trips to and around Branson, Missouri three times a month.
I think they weeded out a lot of us that way. There must be a trick to how many bossy seniors and cowboy theaters can be stomached for minimum wage, but I couldn’t figure that out quite fast enough. Another potential career option in the toilet.
And yet . . .
When I see precious gems like this my imagination sparks just like those days in Spain, France, Germany, UK, Czech Republic, Poland . . . Ok, everywhere, just about everywhere. I was very much a Europhile. Still am.
And yet . . .
I’m so struck by the lack of general interest. And knowledge. And, frankly, care.
I see the collapsing remnants of a structure worth saving. I see a history worth understanding and passing forward.
That’s the shot to inspire a buyer’s creative juices? Yikes. What about its real history, does anyone care? And, where’s the roof?
But the Realtors, who are there to sell this precious gem, see little of that world, neither the past nor the true potential. It’s such a shame. Such a very common, and so very confusing, big fat shame.
Will it become an ‘event venue’ as they suggest? It’s hard to imagine the kind of events that would make such a renovation effort worthwhile, or particularly palatable. Is there even such skilled workmanship available today?
Dare I question, true philanthropy, if it ever existed at all, is it dead?
There are many such gems in our little city, which suggest but mere clues to the true treasures in our midst, in plain sight—all teetering in a world of nearly forgotten but, dare I hope, at least a cyber-revival?
A taste of the hidden history in plain site, he’s getting to all the states eventually, and beyond, one of a great many channels sparking my renewed interests . . . 😁
As much as I complain about the weather—that is mostly, the man-made weather—I feel I must give credit when credit is due.
We’ve been having a spectacular spring. Not one hail storm, flood, tornado to speak of. Perhaps still too light on the rain for my liking, but it’s been enough to keep things growing beautifully around here.
So I just thought I’d share a bit of that splendor here and now, even though I haven’t the time or energy for much else at the moment. I’ve been preparing all week for another basic fermentation workshop, which means a lot of mise en place (that’s a fancy French expression for ‘get your shit together’). 😆
The coral honeysuckle, looking more amazing than ever, with the rose growing in there just about to bloom too. And a hummingbird finally showed up to enjoy it too, but there’s not a chance to catch him on camera without many hours to spare.
I tossed poppy seeds out by the hundreds, everywhere. And they’ve shown up in the most unusual places, one at a time, in the tiny cracks between wood and grass, under the dogwood, under the mulberry, in the garlic patch and the turnip rows, just one each, out of hundreds.
I’m glad, I so love them, but I don’t get it. Why there? And where are the rest of them?
Everybody loves the turnip blossoms, especially the bees and goats!
You can see Chestnut’s abscess has almost completely disappeared, hardly visible anymore. But Walnut behind her has torn her ear something terrible, probably in a fence somewhere, doing just what she’s doing here. We may have to change her name to Van Gogh.
Getting some good kohlrabi and kale and potatoes, and peas, and strawberries and clover, and just about everything, coming in strong.
I’ve been meaning to get some cute lamb vid soon too, really! They are at that adorable stage. Next month come the kids!
Following is my personal opinion on: ‘Daily writing prompts’* and the personal lives of ‘Activists’.
It should be considered Rated R, Adult Content, Not Suitable for Work. And generally just bitchy.
(Furthermore, it may be considered as a Self-Righteous Rant and a Cowardly Non-Accusation aimed specifically at I know who but will not name, because these are the kinds of fuckers who will publicly come after me to berate a tiny fish in front of their very large audiences. As I’ve seen them do on numerous occasions to others who dare to ‘cross’ them, even privately.)
Today, among the political classes and the masses, we have victim groups, instead of individual victims. It’s a kind of class action diffusion. It’s like the old adage: 1 death is a tragedy, a million a statistic.
Maybe that’s why it’s become de rigeur for our ‘influencers’ to pile so much of their personal baggage into the public sphere. I’m not talking a time or two, or a personage or two, I’m talking a years-long pattern of ‘popular’ people spraying every issue with their personal odiferous and onerous and particularly cacophonous stench.
‘It’s not your work, Hannon – it’s your attitude.’
(And, I want to be very clear here, I’m not talking about all those folks with personal blogs. Blogging is by its nature a borderline media—somewhat public, certainly not private. Somewhat professional, sometimes, but mostly more like gathering at the cyberhood pub. Personal blogs sharing folks’ personal issues in their lives is a fine genre for generating support and camaraderie and insights and I enjoy and appreciate many of them.)
I’m talking about those who consider themselves, who are labeling themselves, as activists or influencers or journalists, specifically. Very public folks feeding their audiences on a regularly supply of their constantly distracting and dramatic personal conflicts and dramas.
Landing somewhere between a Mexican soap opera and politicians’ tawdry nightly news scandals, I find I’m being increasingly bombarded with the personal lives and conflicts of an increasing number of ‘advocates’ and ‘influencers’ and ‘activists’ and ‘philosophers’.
Who are these people and why are their personal lives weaved in so tightly with their public work?
From their personal lawsuits, to their family problems, to their health issues, to their constant bickering with the opposition—which really makes me wonder—are these activists in fact trying to replace the current Hollywood celebrities?
It’s like a version of reality TV for the ‘alternative’ or ‘conspiracy’ or ‘news’ buff. Who’s being censored this week? Who’s blocked whom? Who’s going bankrupt? Who’s getting divorced? Who’s going to rehab?
And then those very same activists claim their work is all about criticizing the SYSTEM, and it’s not about individuals.
Wait, what?
If this is about the system, why is your audience being constantly drawn to the dramas about YOU, an individual? And your relationships. And your endless conflicts. And your constant frustrations. And your family life. And your love life, or lack there of.
If it’s really not about you, then stop making it about you!
And, on, and on. Every fucking where they go they create conflict. And then ‘unpack’ it, for hours, for their audiences. How/why is this? Every damn month it’s some new drama with some poor new (or repeat) sap. All over the screens, unavoidable, poking their pathetic noses into my feeds on a regular basis.
How many collaborators must I block while still being subjected to your ‘news’? Your shifty, and forever shifting, views. Criticizing everyone while no one’s allowed to criticize you. Whining constantly how you are all about the ‘greater good’ while sucking the hearts out of your collaborators and supporters alike, for years.
Why bring your personal life to your work, and then demand your audience and collaborators focus solely on your work? Either bring your personal shit into the space, or leave it out. Don’t be that dumbass bitch who wears her teeny-tiny tank top on the city street and then whines when men gawk at her.
There’s a place for airing your dirty laundry in public—it’s located somewhere between the Red Light District and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.
Please y’all, spare me, and park yourselves there, so I know how to better avoid you in future.
________
*Why include those innocent-seeming ‘daily writing prompts’ in my diatribe, like those shuffled out right here on WP, you might ask?
Because they are invasive and I believe a stepping stone onto the TMI stage. Diffusing your victimhood or childhood fears or daily dramas through writing is cathartic and can be healthy, within safe environments and safe people.
These platforms are not safe. A nameless/faceless/largely invisible audience is not safe. Being a public figure in general requires a certain level of risk. And, being courageous enough to publicly share your difficulties in order to help or educate or vent or encourage, or even criticize others is not the problem.
It’s the deliberate and repeated interference of the private sphere into the public forums that is collapsing healthy discourse and glueing the undiscerning public eye on the train wrecks of the characters speaking over the actual social issues in question.
If that’s not a deliberate diversionary tactic, it sure the hell looks like one from where I’m standing. These are ‘professional activists’ doing a grave disservice to public activity. And the platforms are encouraging it because it generates copious data and more eager audiences around otherwise rather dry topics.
It’s the ‘Clinton-Lewinsky Effect’ of the Activists’ Cult and when I see it happen 3 times with one activist I know they are a card-carrying member of this cult and that’s the sign it’s high time to step away from their addictions, distractions and shenanigans.
