Tag Archives: personal

Witch doctors as an alternative to everything else

Hi readers. Thanks for coming by.

20 years ago I quit going to doctors because they never told me anything I wanted to hear. So I bought some books about vitamin and mineral approaches to staying healthy, learned about a number of other non-mainstream alternatives including diet, exercize, and metaphysical healing techniques. Considering my age I’m one hell of a lot healthier today than I was when I was going to physicians and letting them tell me all the ways I was likely to die and what I needed to let them cut off or out to keep me living.

I’m not trying to sell you on the idea you ought to follow this route. Although, if the docs have given up on you and sent you home to die you might find a pleasant surprise waiting for you if you should look into it.

But I’m writing this to tell you about something Jeanne came across and passed on to me.

http://serrapeptasefor.me/the-role-of-natural-enzymes-called-serrapeptase-in-scar-tissue/

The Role Of Natural Enzymes Called Serrapeptase in Scar Tissue

Scar TissueNatural enzymes are beneficial to our body because they eliminate and prevent fibrosis which is also known as scar tissue. As we get older, fibrosis becomes one of the main factors of sudden death. During our 20′s, the production of enzymes in the body start to reduce and by the time we reach the age of 40, the enzyme level becomes too low. As a matter of fact, those who are suffering from cystic fibrosis do not produce natural enzymes anymore, making their bodies weaker and less immune to sickness. This will eventually result to the formation of scar tissue and the shrinking of the lungs. Children with this type of disease will not be able to withstand the side effects thus will die before they even turn 20 years old.
If the enzyme production will continue to diminish, the body will not be able to control the abundant deposits of fibrin from simple wounds such as cuts and scratch. This will penetrate inside the blood vessels and the internal organs which can develop into deadly illnesses like fibrocystic breast disease, adhesions, uterine fibroids and endometriosis. Both men and women are affected with this condition although studies show that the female species are more prone. Women develop arterial sclerotic plaque that invades the body system and makes the organs reduce in size. Over time, the organs will stop functioning while the patient suffers from pain and visible scars.
The only way to control the scar tissue formation is to replace the lost enzymes. Doing so is useful to avoid the issues related to the absence of natural enzymes and abundance of fibrin. Studies have also proven that the addition of enzymes in the body system can actually reverse the harsh effects of fibrosis. Old scars are unbelievably gone after natural enzymes are added into the body. Scar tissues from pulmonary fibrosis, surgical wounds, kidney fibrosis, and even the nasty keloids will be gone. Although medical practitioners from Asia and Europe have been using this method to their patients for more than a decade already, doctors from the US are just starting to discover its benefits.
Serrapeptase scar tissue and nattokinase are some of the best natural enzymes for the removal of scar tissues. On the other hand, if you are looking for the most effective defense against pancreatic cancer tumors, Chymotrypsin and pancreatin are considered as the best option.
Serrapeptase is also an ultra powerful enzyme which can only be found from a group of bacteria present in the silkworm’s intestines. This bacterium is called Serratia Marcescens E1. It enables the full development of the silkworm by dissolving its cocoon. In addition, Serratia also reduces the scar tissue by healing and improving the inflammation on the skin.
As the healing process is going on, Serrapeptase aids in digesting the dead tissue while the living tissues are preserved. Serrapeptase is also beneficial in dissolving unwanted scar tissues namely blood clots, cysts, fibrosis, and anterial plaque. Sinusitis is another illness which can be cured by Serrapeptase scar tissue. It is used as an anti-inflammatory agent against excessive mucous secretion, fibrocystic breasts, and varicose veins. Most importantly, scientists believe that Serrapeptase scar tissue plays an essential role in protecting the body against cancer cells and layers of tumors. It fights cancer by strengthening the immune system.
In conclusion, Serrapeptase scar tissue is not only effective to patients of lung diseases but it is also beneficial in clearing out the cancer cells within the body. Removing those dead tissues is a big help for our bodies to cope with numerous diseases. Natural healing process is crucial because it has better results than artificial treatment methods.

Stuff sounds as though it has some potential for some of the things I live with. Such as a goozle half-high with scar tissue from stomach acid reflux used to try to bleed me dry before Prilosec came along. Maybe even high blood pressure. I’m going to try it. So’s Jeanne, because of the scar tissue giving her fits recovering from the broken wrist and surgery a couple of months ago.

If you’re interested enough to want to know what people who’ve used it thought about it, and what they used it in hopes of helping, Amazon Customer Reviews might be a good place to start.

http://www.amazon.com/Doctors-Best-Serrapeptase-Units-90-Count/product-reviews/B000EDCJ3Y/ref=cm_cr_dp_see_all_summary?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1&sortBy=byRankDescending

But hell, if you’d rather go to a doctor by all means, do it. He’s convinced he’s got all the answersand this isn’t one of them.

Old Jules

When the US Civil War was still hot off the presses – Horace Greeley 1866

Hi readers. Thanks for coming by.

Exciting stuff. A couple of blocks away from where Jeanne lives there’s an auction house in Olathe, KS. Every Saturday evening when the auction ends they put all the stuff that didn’t sell out in the parking lot for anyone who wants it, then haul what’s left to the dump.

Jeanne goes over there when she can catch it at the opportune time and finds all sorts of goodies. It’s where she found Lighthorse Henry Lee’s Memoire which caused me multiple organisms when she sent it to me. Maybe the last time in human history it will be read, and my pleasure being the one to do it.

Now a new crisis as arisen. Saturday night she found Volume 2 of Greeley’s history of the Civil War published in 1866. 700 plus pages of razor-edged northern perspective of the Civil War.

Hot diggidy damn. Multiple organisms again, just knowing that when I get settled down where I can have her sending me reading material sometime somewhere I’m damned likely to become the last person in human history to read Horace Greeley’s hot-off-the-presses Civil War.

Life is good. Even life that hasn’t happened yet and will have to wait a while.

Old Jules

J. D. Salinger needs a good horse-whipping

Five new JD Salinger books on the way

Titles expected between 2015 and 2020

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2013/sep/03/new-jd-salinger-fiction-documentary

Hi readers.

When J.D. Salinger went stealth in the 1960s I didn’t think he could hold out.  I snickered to myself and said he was in there writing books and one day he’d lose his determination and drop them on me like depth charges.  I figured I could hold out longer than he could.

Eventually I began to think I had him figured wrong maybe.  That he’d either burned all his stuff and wasn’t writing more, or that he was a Class A horses ass and just wasn’t going to let any of it go public until after he died.  Then he died and for a while I was sure that now, now, now, here they’d come!

They didn’t, and when I turned 70 one of the things I had to reconcile myself to was that J.D. Salinger wasn’t gonna have anymore books during my lifetime.  Decided he was indeed a Class A horses ass.

But yesterday Jeanne sent me the link above.  Oh, yeah.  Thanks a lot, J.D. Salinger.  2015.  Hell, I went out to the RV, took some mega vitamins checked my blood pressure, then checked over the cats trying to figure out what we all need to do in order to survive until 2015.

I’m thinking it’s going to be a cliff-hanger, but we’ve got a middling good shot at lasting until the first one.  I’m okay, the cats seem okay.  I’ll gear up the cat-vitamins just to help us along, make sure they eat less hard food and more canned food, and we’ll take a run at it.  Might even squeeze it all the way to the last one in 2020.

But if J.D. Salinger happens to only be pretending to be dead I’d love to say a few choice words to him.

Old Jules

Wouldn’t go to San Antonio, TX for a $100 bill plus gas

Hi readers.  When I got back from town yesterday and was putting the groceries into hideyholes and places they wouldn’t scatter hell-to-breakfast in the RV when it went up the hill again I came across a slip of paper the cashier put in one of the bags.  Had a ‘code’ number on it and said if I went to HEB.com/viva and put in that number I could win valuable prizes.

Well, heck.  I was thinking I wouldn’t mind winning a free bag of potatoes, a bag of onions, who knows?  Maybe some cat food or a pound of cheese.  A nice brisket would be nice.

So naturally I plugged in the website, went through my name, email address, zipcode and age to get all whetted down so’s I could find out if my number was a big winner.

Whoopteedooo!  I won a free pass to some museum 100, 150 miles away from here I wouldn’t go to without a gun to my head.  Those folks surely do take care of their customers and know how to build enthusiasm for promotions.


Hi D M,
Thanks for celebrating 70 years with H-E-B in San Antonio and entering the ¡Viva! SA Giveaway today! You’re now in the running for the chance to win free passes to exciting San Antonio landmarks, gift cards to great SA shops and restaurants and MUCH MORE.There are plenty of other spots on the iViva! SA Game Board to visit. Don’t miss a single chance to win – come back with a new code soon to unlock a space on the board!

Visit all 8 hot spots by October 1, 2013!

Good luck,

Your friends at H-E-B

I should have known a grocery store chain had better sense than to give away something valuable such as a bag of potatoes or onions.

Old Jules

Superb judge of character, me

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

I slipped over to Yahoo News when I got online this morning, wanted to find out whether the world went up in smoke during the night.  Turns out all the news is piddly stuff mostly, nosy things allowing the non-celebrities spot checks into what life’s like for the sainted big named and big-breasted.

But something caught my eye about some 10 year old kid who found a mummy in the attic of the house his grandparents owned.  Brought to mind what a great judge of character I pride myself being.

Early 2000s a friend of mine died near Belen, NM.  He and I loved the same books about history, etc, and he used to joke he’d leave me that several walls of books we both cherished, when he died.  And I’d tell him I would kill him if he left me those books to have to drag around and find someone else to leave them to.

His house was a museum of artifacts he’d found.  We’d even done some artifact searching together.  I think some of those mini-balls on one of the lead pictures on this blog were found when we were somewhere together.

So when I saw in the Albuquerque paper that he’d died I was careful not to contact anyone concerning the fact we knew one another.  Not because I was afraid he’d left me those books, either.

Turned out he’d been robbing graves down in the neighborhood of where those mini-balls were found.  Maybe graves elsewhere, old ones.

Back room of that house was jam-packed with human remains a century-or-more old.  Bastard never showed them to me, all the time we were sitting around drinking coffee and talking about history.

Which I suppose is okay, because I put a high value on his friendship, enjoyed knowing him a lot.  And sometimes even then I’d forget how old I was and have to decide spur-of-the-moment whether to open a can of whupass on someone.

In his case if I’d known what he had in that back room we might have had to pick our weapons out of his museum and go at it.  I had a lot of mixed feelings swirling around inside me when the news came out and he had his brief day in the sun.

I’d have never suspected it of him.  So he’s the exception proving the rule.  I’ve got everyone else figured out.

Old Jules

Should’a done its

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

The last post about creeping cowardice was going to have some of this as a part of it, but became too lengthy so I saved it with the thought I’ve got a while to live yet and might still work it in somewhere.

I believe one of the ways a person might attain valid perspectives about himself and his life events is through hindsight.  Might be the only way.  If a person can look back and seriously say to himself, “I should have done it,” probably he should have done it.

I can’t say that about those two mine shafts because I know even now I’d have done them if I could, and I recognize for whatever reason, I couldn’t.  No ‘should have done it’ hidden in there.

But around 2002, 2003, there’s a should have done it I still occasionally experience a flash of regret about.  Just until my insistence about not to regret anything in my life kicks in to trump it.

There’s an airstrip, or was an airstrip parallel to the old highway running between Belen, Los Lunas, and Isleta Pueblo I used to always swing into when I was in the area.  A number of old airplanes to walk around and look at, wonder about, kick the tires of.  The airstrip was gradually becoming inactive.

But at one end there was an old Cessna 140 tied down.  I’d always go over and walk around, check it out.  Sometimes sit inside it.  Watch the tires gradually lose their air and grass get taller around it.

I asked the guys running a motorcycle shop that used to be an airplane related business about it.  The 140 belonged to a man who lived in the neighborhood adjacent to the air park.  He’d been experiencing advancing dementia … quit flying the plane a couple of years back.  One of them heard he was in a nursing home, and that his wife had died.  The house and plane were in an ambiguous ownership state as a result of complicated family matters.

When I heard that I began to realize that old plane needed to be taken around the patch a few times before it rotted to the ground.  Or before it found its way into Trade-A-Plane and got sold to someone in Alabama to fly off or be hauled off.

I did a lot of planning about that plane.  The battery was going to be dead, and maybe the fuel would have gone bad, but probably not.  Avgas tends to last a long time in a tied down airplane.  But there’s probably water condensed inside the tank if it wasn’t left full.  Water under the gas that would be drained off before the engine started.

I borrowed an air bottle and brought the tire pressure up on one of the trips, checked the oil, got inside and tested the controls.  Everything hunky dory.  Just needed to draw the water off the fuel tanks.  Fuel guages showed one full, one 3/4 tank.  The 3/4 tank would be the one most likely to have water in the fuel tank.

I never made a conscious decision not to take that old bird around the patch, do a few touch and goes.  My bud in Belen,  Deano, died and other matters kept me from going into that area without a special trip.  I suppose it just slipped my mind.

Which didn’t keep it from creeping back into my consciousness for years afterward, including now.  I can tell you today, I should have done it.  The way I know I should have is that I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t have.

I’d be remembering that as my last pilot in command this lifetime, if I’d done it.  And instead of a sense of loss when it sneaks into my head, I’d be remembering those touch and goes in a Cessna 140.

Old Jules

The basic idea’s sound enough

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by.

shaker drywasher

Most of you probably won’t find this of interest, but possibly Eddie and Keith might.  Keith saw earlier efforts directed to a similar end back during the early 1990s, and I described something similar to Eddie last December.

The idea here’s to have a portable enough contraption to be light and easy to manage through some walking distance, fast enough in the assembly, unstable enough to allow a lot of shaking.  The whirlygig on the weedwhopper needs to be out of balance enough to provide the vibration.  But the bearing will be side loaded, so it might self destruct before enough use to justify it.

The next frame will be an aluminum golf-caddy on wheels, which is capable of being as unstable as the chair frames.  That would also allow it to be rolled instead of carried where it’s to be used.

There’s going to have to be a grizzly up ahead of the platform/table, which might cause too much weight for this method to allow enough shaking of the table/riffles to do the job.  Might also need a counter-balance at the bottom to keep an angle on the table, which will also need to be tested.

I don’t know how much adjusting will be needed on the table to keep things moving, but slowly enough so’s it doesn’t move too fast.  Also don’t know how much classifying would be needed ahead of the thing, how large the material could be for it to work.

You can see the two front legs on the frame are off the ground.  That’s so it can be rocked forward, both to provide instability, and to allow adjustment of the table angle.  Naturally it has to have a bottom surface on the riffle/table.

But the whole thing as the huge advantage, provided it works, of not throwing up a mile-high cloud of dust.  I doubt it will move as much material as a store-bought portable drywasher, but it lacks a lot of the disadvantages, and it is an inexpensive alternative.

Might be worth trying, anyway.

Old Jules

Teetering on the brink of a Christian Era here

Hi readers.

Whoopteeedoo!  Something finally worked as planned.

Escape route 2.51 storage

It’s been troubling my mind for some while, that huge storage box I couldn’t access because the ladder was wokkyjaw damaged, one leg at the top swinging loose, kinks and bends, supports pulled through the RV skin.  Not one thing about it caused a man to wish to climb it.

RV ladder repair 5

I worked most of the day crossing my fingers and knocking on wood as I went.  Cut about three inches out of the section toward the top, slid an undersized piece of tubing inside and spliced it together. 

RV ladder repair 3

That allowed the end that’s supposed to  connect on the roof to come down enough to touch, anyway.  There was a piece of rusted 1/8 inch steel rod, threaded, sticking out of the roof.  Supposed to go inside the ladder connected somehow, I reckons.

RV ladder repair 4

Couldn’t think of any meaningful way to replace it, so I whittled down a piece of broom handle to fit inside the tubing, drilled a 1/16th inch hole lengthwise through it and gorilla-glued the hell out of it.

RV ladder repair 6

Couldn’t think of much anything to do with the tools at hand about that kink, so I just hose-clamped a step on top of it.

RV ladder repair storage2

Now that I can get to it, that box is going to carry a sleeping bag, coleman stove, small tent, pick and shovel, gold pans and classifier, backpack and a number of other essentials I’d been gnashing my teeth wondering how to carry along.

Life wasn’t bad yesterday, but it’s better today.

Old Jules

Keeping stupidity to a minimum

Hi readers.

Last trip to Kerrville, after I had my spanking new 10 ply tires mounted, after I’d been inside the Walmart store and bought a 1/2 inch hammer drill [which ain’t going to do the intended job, will have to be returned] I was feeling uppidy something awful.  I got everything tucked into places where it wouldn’t scatter hell-to-breakfast and headed out of the parking lot.

Guy was sitting on the side before the stop sign in a wheel chair.  Had a sign, “Vet – Appreciate any help“.  Stump of one leg sticking out.  I craned my neck and squinted, drove on by, then backed up and pulled to the side, cursing myself.  Hell, I don’t care whether he’s a vet.  Damned guy only has one leg, for Christsake.  Sheeze.  Damnittohell.  Probably got more money than I do, anyway.  Damnittohell.

I rolled down my window and he rolled up close.  “Hey man. ”  He watched me thumbing through my small bill wallet trying to decide how much.  “How you doing?”

Doing okay.”  At least I’ve got both my freaking legs.  Ain’t stooped to begging on the street.  I squeezed my eyes shut so’s to not have to look at the $20 I handed him.

Hey, thanks man.”

No problem.  Hang in there.”  I rolled up the window and backed the RV enough to get back on the road, clinching my teeth, cursing myself for being such a dumbass.  Knowing he’s probably got all kinds of support from a lot of directions.  Searching my mind for rationalizations for having done it.

Finally settled on thinking of Jeanne’s brother, Carl.  Guy’s got MS, crippled up something awful.  Made a lot of lousy decisions in life and got old, in and out of hospitals.  Can’t do squat, doesn’t know from one day to the next whether he and his wife will have a place to live.  Mostly his own fault for not doing everything he could for himself, applying for help from sources it might have been available.

Hell, I decided, if I saw Carl beside the road with a sign I’d give him a $20.  Even if a lot of his problem is his own fault.  The MS ain’t, and we human beings are dumber than cluckshit.  None of us worth shooting. 

Screw it.  The cats and I are generally healthy and at least the stupid we carry around ain’t as heavy on the shoulders at that guy.  Or Carl.  Cripes.  A month from now I’ll never even miss that $20.

Screw it.  But next time I ain’t going to do it.  I hope.

Old Jules

Hermits, misers and short-term memory

Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

Last night I found myself with my two wallets out, the one where I keep $100s and $50s, counting them carefully, and the one where I keep $20s, $10s, $5s and $1s, adding them all up.  [I keep them in two different wallets so’s I can’t accidentally hand a store clerk a large bill thinking it’s a small one, can’t lose the big bill wallet and hit rock bottom between two breaths].

After carefully counting it all out, got the map, the calculator, re-figured the gas mileage averages per gallon I’ve been getting on the RV, the distances between places I might drive to, and the cost in fuel if nothing else goes wrong.

After I’d figured and re-figured all that a few times I went in to the cabin and began unloading boxes of books I’d packed to carry into town to donate to thrift stores, opening each one and fanning the pages.  Just to make sure.  [A few weeks ago I’d found a $100 in one I must have stashed in there sometime when I had an extra and wanted to put it aside for a rainy day.]

Found a couple of books I want to read again before disposing of them, but not one $100 bill.  So I went around looking at things and other hidey holes where I might have stashed bills so’s I wouldn’t spend them, then forgot.  Checking the pockets of blue jeans, coats and jackets, taking the lids off button jars and pill bottles looking inside, moving the buttons pills etc, in case I’d shoved a bill down inside out of sight.

Got me thinking how damned sick this whole money thing is.  I remembered for the first time in 40-50 years a book, My Brother’s Keeper, I read as a youngster and was impressed enough to have it stamped on my memory.  About some old guy must have been a lot like me.  And remembering all the fictional misers stereotyped in books I’ve read over the decades.

Guys who died and people disposing of their belongings coming across pillows, mattresses, loose floor boards, with gobs of money.  While the guy half-starved.  Hell, maybe they forgot they had it.

Got me wondering if maybe I’ve got a stash around here full of $100s and ain’t remembering I’ve got it. 

Maybe it’s time I went out into the meadow and dug some holes, crawled down underneath the cabin to check out the floor joists, the piers and beams for money I hid.  I doubt I’d have done that, though.  After the packrats shredded all my retirement money I had hidden under a floor joist in the Y2K cabin, I like to think I learned a lesson.

So where the hell DID I put all the money I must have stashed around here over the past few years and forgot?

Sicksicksick. 

Old Jules

Afterthought: It’s no damned wonder so many people who are actually rich are so preoccupied with getting richer.  They’re probably forgotting they’re already rich.  Or can’t remember where their money is.