Kimberly Steele

Yesterday I had a rare chance to stop by one of my favorite chain thrift stores. As Murphy’s Law would have it, I was sifting through racks of short sleeved shirts when a revolting, sour stench wafted through the air and curled my nose hairs. It wasn’t so much of a scent as it was a violent assertion — I AM HERE AND YOU WILL NOTICE ME AND ONLY ME. The odor was urine, feces, and something far worse: rot. The smell of suppurating, decaying flesh, old blood and pus, and urine soaking an eldritch, dripping diaper was obscene and beyond mere language to adequately describe. The source of the stench was an old woman who was apparently alone standing fifteen feet away. She was disheveled and seemingly unaware of her own state. I went to a different section of the store, which is quite large. The smell followed me as if it was trying to infect me too, bursting unexpectedly out of clothes she had touched. Waves of decay bounded forward through the store with invisible, unfurling tentacles, seeking new senses to offend. She could be smelled from fifty feet away. I am confident that every person in the store smelled her. I feel sorry for the employees who not only would be forced to personally interact with her but also who would smell her stench hours after she left. Fortunately for me, I was able to leave the confines of the store, though sadly neither I nor any other customer got much shopping done.

Bad smells are typically more pungent to women, who are more sensitive to the etheric plane. For this reason, it is more common for a man to neglect himself into a state of reek, though I have smelled my fair share of women like the one above. If I had to use one word to encapsulate the way the woman smelled, it would be “neglect”. As much as her etheric assault irritated me and likely others in the store, I think we all tacitly acknowledged how very sad it was that she was clearly not a person who had loved ones to care for her. As she shuffled around perusing sale items, questions rose in my mind: How did she get to the store? Did she drive herself? Does she know she smells that bad? Isn’t she in pain from the urea burns and the open wounds down there?

I have yet to know an elderly person who doesn’t spend the end of his or her life waging a battle with incontinence. Obviously the woman in the thrift store had long since lost the battle — I can imagine the poor store employees had to clean up a dripping mess from the floor once she left. I hope that did not happen. I didn’t step in anything that I knew of so perhaps she was in a fairly dry state.

How it happens: the demise of the urinary tract

When I was a child, I was able to go six hours without having to pee. When I did pee, my urine stream was robust and strong. This trend did not reverse until I became sexually active in my late teens, and from then on, it all went to hell in a hand basket. Frequent urinary tract infections meant I had to urinate often within a few minutes of seemingly having emptied my bladder. Any kind of action down there resulted in a UTI, and my obsession with condoms triggered a lifelong latex allergy. Not wanting to become pregnant, I found that I had a choice: constant UTIs that I sporadically went on antibiotics to ameliorate or no sex at all, which meant no boyfriend as those two things went hand in hand.

My urinary tract, despite being relatively healthy compared to most people my age, is never going to be as solid as it was when I was seven years old. Living life to its fullest wrecks the urinary tract: this is just a fact we humans have to put up with. Men end up losing continence to prostate issues. According to the American Cancer Society, eleven percent of men end up with prostate cancer. I would guesstimate the number is actually much higher. When the prostate has problems, it exhibits itself through urinary frequency. The same thing happens to women sans prostate, especially if they have gone through childbirth. Even women like me who have borne no children end up with problematic urinary tracts.

The medical profession: nothing to see here!

Of course modern allopathic medicine has zero solutions to chronic urinary problems. A dear friend of mine who is approximately old enough to be my mother suffers from the belief that her doctors have her best interests in mind. My father suffered from the same belief and luckily his decline was fast compared to most. His relatively swift demise in his mid-eighties did not save him from spending hundreds of thousands of dollars in the name of saving his “health” via allopathic treatments. My friend is going the same route, but because women typically linger in pre-death states longer than men, it is likely she will suffer far more than my father and be roped into larger outlays of resources as age takes its toll.

Just think for one second of how the tremendous assets of the Boomers could have benefited society if they had not been spent on various medical triage in old age. Had Boomers possessed the grace to forgo stupid and brutal medical treatments that were hardly life-saving, such as vaccinations, the biopsy/surgery mill and endless “wellness” scans that invariably ended in a bevy of pills and shots, perhaps there would have been money leftover for the average young person to afford a modest home and a decent living from a job that did not involve the medical profession in any way, shape or form. All of this stuff is connected, but I digress.

The thing is about believers in allopathic medicine is they cannot be led to alternatives to allopathic medicine, much like a proverbial horse to water. The facts on the ground are that allopathic treatments do nothing to support the urinary tract. All allopathic treatments, including antibiotics, lead to a soggy diaper lifestyle and there are no plans to correct course. My friend is on a type of pill that numbs the urgency to pee and stains the urine bright orange. I have taken this pill before and though it is said not to have side effects, it has plenty of them. Every time I take it for more than a few days, I end up with a weird form of pinkeye and flareups of cystic acne. What this means is that the orange pee pill is causing inflammation, and I will bet it is doing the same in my friend though she is loathe to admit it. Despite it flat out no longer working, she takes a hefty dose of the orange pee pill every night. Like other allopathic “remedies”, the orange pee pill does absolutely nothing to address the root of the problem, which is the health of the urinary tract or the lack thereof.

Care and maintenance of the system

In order to save the urinary tract, you have to maintain it. For some, this may mean periodic celibacy. Another friend of mine in her forties is plagued by autoimmune disease and despite great diet and exercise habits, she has pee problems that are a straight road to incontinence. She is not willing to be celibate for longer than one or two days, so her problems will likely continue.

Urinary function is intimately tied to bowel function. If you’re not crapping once or more times a day, you probably have urinary woes. Constipation is a silent killer and it is a terrible way to go (or not to go), especially in older people. Allopaths shrug and prescribe laxatives and sometimes surgery; that is their “solution” to constipation. Nope. Number one, if you are constipated, you need to be more active, full stop, and the more frequently and vigorously you can get your body moving, the better. Stretching, calisthenics, and yoga are also great movers of energy in the body that help you to poop. The internet has a gazillion stretches and yoga moves you can do to help move your body’s energy towards happy pooping. Investigate hip-opening stretches and anything designed to increase flexibility. Flexibility means blood flow and blood flow means pooping. This is not rocket science.

You also need to overhaul your diet. Dairy products are a huge constipation culprit. If you are constipated, try replacing cheese and ice cream with nuts and sunflower seeds and various desserts made with dates or bananas. When I have severe constipation, usually caused by stress in my case, I bake up some savory crackers made of flax and chia seeds. Fiber is your friend. Processed sweets, snacks, and meats are not. When I go to my local grocery, the pastry display is haunted by Boomers who should probably steer clear. Refined sugar causes inflammation and so does excessive fat. That said, avoiding all sugar and/or fat is a stupid idea. Apollo, god of health, said “everything in moderation” and that means tee-totaling is as boneheaded as bingeing.

It’s not just a matter of drinking more fluids, though that obviously helps. In my own case, I have found that designer sodas that contain inulin such as Olipop pretty much guarantee a crap a day… maybe they should change the name to Olipoop for truth in advertising. Massaging the belly every night works wonders for me. At some point, I suppose I will make a video on it. Abdominal massage involves applying gentle pressure on skin to stimulate the digestive tract. I use castor oil and essentially push it deep into my skin from the area of the beginning of the large colon on the right side all the way around to the left side hip.

Lastly, herbs are the secret weapon to urinary health. I have improved my own urinary tract immensely with daily intake of several herbs.

Cranberry — Even allopaths know that cranberry prevents UTI bacteria such as E.coli and staph from attaching to the urethra. Take up to four cranberry capsules (typically 500mg of powdered herb) every morning with or before tea or coffee and every night with an evening meal or snack. When your body turns fluid into pee, cranberry goes along for the ride, disinfecting the urinary hose and kicking out pathogenic bacteria before it can set up shop. D-mannose is a sugar derivative isolated from sources like apples and cranberries that is basically a more potent version of cranberry. If you have an active UTI, D-mannose pills often relieve pain within a few hours.

Stinging nettles — Every person who has frequent pee or urine issues needs to take nettles. Again, I prefer pills but if stinging nettles grew in my area, I would dry and pulverize them and drink them as nettle tea. Nettles lose their sting once dried or steamed, and are one of the most nutritious vegetables on the planet. Urinary problems are usually a sign that the diet needs to be more nutritious, and nettles are a fantastic way to address both nutritional and urinary inflammation issues at once.

Dandelion — also known as “piss the bed”, the common weed is one of the world’s oldest and well known bladder and liver tonics, which means it tones both and whips them into shape. In short, dandelions make you pee. Peeing small amounts frequently is a sign of urinary heat or inflammation. Dandelion cools the heat. Despite it increasing pee production, it ameliorates and lessens pee frequency as the pee becomes more efficient at its job of excreting waste and toxins. Dandelion is also extremely nutritious and oddly enough the little yellow blossoms are the most nutritious part of all. In my case, I absolutely love the taste of roasted dandelion root tea. It has coffee vibes and as someone who can no longer handle the amount of caffeine that even decaf coffee delivers, I find a cup of dandelion tea to be a soothing treat regardless of its health benefits.

Uva ursi — also known as bearberry, this common ground cover and woodland dweller is a powerhouse when it comes to strengthening and improving urinary function. Anytime my urine has a smell, I take uva ursi pills or tea and within a few hours, the coast is clear.

There are many, many more herbs not listed here and I would encourage anyone with urinary problems to experiment with the ones that are known to be safe even in large doses like dandelion and nettles. Every human being is vastly different and no one diet, exercise regime, or herbal supplement will be right for all. That said, the manufactured, compliant helplessness of allopathic cultism needs to end. In this age of sham doctors, and I would argue most of them are either willfully or naively ignorant about human health, we need to have an arsenal against disease so we can treat ourselves. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of the cure. Endless, invasive tests, ineffective drugs, and expensive surgeries are a choice to a large degree. I refuse to believe a soggy diaper is an inevitable terminus in old age.  

Supposedly doctors are a vanishing breed, or at least this is what is claimed by the latest issue of the AARP Bulletin. In an article called Where Have All the Doctors Gone? a reporter bemoans the 70 million Americans on Medicare waiting 30 days for medical appointments. Catastrophic collapse of the system, of course, is just around the corner. OK Boomer.

I have not seen this shortage of doctors in my corner of suburban Chicagoland. Throw a coin out of a car window at any random time during the journey and you’ll hit a medical clinic, a drug store, or a medical equipment distributor. The hospitals around here are the size of entire cities elsewhere in the country, with multi-mile walks being required to transverse the entire boundary. Medical care has, if you’ll pardon the pun, metastasized into a huge, unrecognizable blob that has sucked the majority of the real economy into its maw. Every other person in every other family works in some part of the medical field. Those who are not actual doctors are insurance underwriters, pharmacy techs, and EMTs. Medical metastasis is what we have instead of a functioning, sustainable economy. The economy is fake. The sick people, unfortunately, are real enough. It is far more common these days to be chronically ill than well, even if you are a child. There are plenty of doctors, nurses, and nurse assistants to be found, at least in my area. The ones who are missing are the actual healers.

 

Where have all the healers gone?

The reason there is not much healing available these days is because all healing comes from the etheric plane. Allow me to repeat myself: ALL HEALING COMES FROM THE ETHERIC PLANE. For those unfamiliar with occult science, the etheric is not a place, it is a condition of being. The etheric refers to that layer of existence that we call energy, force, chi, prana, animus, vitality, or cosmic breath. Another good term for it is “vibe”. If you’ve ever walked into a room and found everything to look perfectly fine but the vibe to be off, congratulations, you’ve just had a direct encounter with the etheric plane. All electricity, including light energy, is etheric in nature. Heal the etheric and the physical follows suit. If the etheric is damaged and is not repaired, the physical will remain damaged as it is one level less subtle than the etheric.

 

Women are better stewards of the etheric because they tend to be male on the etheric plane. I have discussed this in previous essays such as this one, this one, and this one. Our civilization, being mostly ignorant of etheric phenomena, tends to undervalue women as chefs or decorators. For every one Giada De Laurentis, there are a dozen Gordon Ramsays and Bobby Flays. Women are etheric males and etheric maleness, like sunshine, is a potent healing force. I talked about the Nurse with a Purse trend where older women are retreating into happy, permanent singlehood while old men literally wither away and die as a result. In a time of rampant etheric starvation like ours, an etheric male is looking at a seller’s market, even if she is old, gray, and fat.

 

How many yoga studios does one town need?

I live near the town of Naperville. My working guess is that there are at least a hundred yoga studios in Naperville, a town of 150,000 people. The type of yoga practiced in these studios is highly Westernized, often incorporating Pilates or “aerial”, which means students swing from pieces of cloth moored to the ceiling. In other words, it is glorified flexibility training with pseudo-Eastern religious pretensions. These yoga centers are almost always run, staffed, and frequented by women, making them vortices of etheric maleness. Often there is a reiki practitioner available, and there tends to be cross pollination with the kind of bastardized Eastern meditation I call “empty mind” meditation. Empty mind meditation is problematic and often leaves the people who indulge in it laid bare to astral inculcation and hijacking by corporate forces seeking recruits for their own astral pyramids, but I digress. Yoga studios are not just having a moment — I think they are here to stay. These places are picking up the pieces while Christian churches slowly die. The primary advantage they have over Christianity is their connection to the pulse of the Earth via movement and breathing. Combine their physical, direct approach to spirituality with the etheric restoration they offer through direct manipulation of energy flows via the human body and it is no wonder they proliferate wherever women are wealthy enough to spend their money on classes.

 

Me love you long time: prostitution’s new front

Speaking of common sights in the suburbs, in my corner of Aurora, a much larger and poorer suburb of Chicago, massage parlors populate nearly every strip mall. I used to rent commercial space for my private music studio, and oddly the renter before me was a shady Asian massage parlor. Its owners got booted out for illegal activity before they were able to open for business — they did a big renovation job for absolutely nothing. Imagine my surprise when I was eight years into twelve years of leasing and a shady Asian massage parlor opened next door to my lesson studio. If you want to know whether a massage parlor is offering happy endings in your area, simply look it up on Rubmaps and see if it is listed. The site consists of johns reviewing various massage parlors across the US. I looked up the parlor that landed next door to me and it was there, complete with saucy ads of big-busted, bikini clad Asian girls and a price list for a service that ended in a table shower. Hilariously, my husband happened to be working in a strip mall where he too was next door to a happy ending massage parlor. Like my Asian massage parlor, his was run by shifty, seldom seen Chinese mafia types. Arguments were frequently heard between the complex’s flimsy walls and the smells of cooking constantly emanated from the store next door. Both places were open very late at night and on holidays. The only people who ever went in besides the madam owner were men. I knew there were trafficked women being shunted around by van. Sometimes I think they forced the girls to stay overnight. I sent tips to the police about the place several times; predictably they did nothing. The neo-prostitution arrangement of housing girls in a massage parlor is now so reliably common in decaying American retail hellscapes that I would guesstimate that 4/5 massage parlors are not the old fashioned, non-happy ending kind.

It’s a trap!

Men suffer etheric starvation more acutely than women. The easiest, quickest fix for this form of depletion seems to be getting their rocks off with a pliant, nubile young woman. This is where they get the etheric rug pulled out from under them. When an etheric female (biological male) orgasms, his etheric body is laid bare and open, expecting to take in etheric energy from the etheric male. This is the reason why a man is obsessed with a woman’s orgasm and extremely frustrated when she fails or he found out that she has faked it. He is a lock that remains empty, expecting a key that never arrives. He cannot exactly fake his own orgasm, so he is left to ponder the mystery of whether or not she is lying if he feels unfulfilled after he has spent himself.

What about rape?

As you can guess, rape is not fulfilling on the etheric for the rapist unless the rapist manages to get an orgasm out of the victim. The sinister part here is that children of either sex are also etheric males until the age of puberty, and that is why men tend to be the primary groomers and abusers of children. Children also are more potent on the etheric than their adult counterparts due to excessive yang life force. Polarizing a woman or a child of either sex via rape is a form of theft that some seek out like a drug, and I suppose part of the addictive aspect lies in the polarization itself, which is mainly astral. At any rate, when a man masturbates while alone or with other men or if he comes without his partner doing the same, he will feel an infuriating emptiness that feels like an itch that cannot be scratched.

The world’s oldest profession is at the ready like a bed of poison ivy. Prostitution tends to involve a small number of etheric females in the form of pimps, usually mature men, who exploit a harem of etheric male. The sultan’s harem is a similar construct. The etheric female gathers and exploits the etheric males (women and children) to service starving etheric females (men) and to use an etheric bait-and-switch (women who do not orgasm) to bring the men back for more. Etheric starvation may be worse in our time, but it has always been around, and therefore it goes the same with prostitution and its business model.

Modern medics like to denigrate the old practice of escaping the city for the country to take in the waters and to heal in a rustic environment. Not all that long ago, it was a custom to attempt to heal tuberculosis and other dread diseases by going to a faraway spa, preferably in a place that was warm and with plentiful hot springs. The milkmaid trope of the 1700s came into being as the industrial revolution was underway. Milkmaids were seen as wholesome, healthy, lovely, and uncorrupted. Every noblewoman, including Marie Antoinette, installed working dairies at their estates so they could pretend they were the virtuous, innocent stars in an idealized, bucolic paradise. Maybe they were on to something: didn’t Edward Jenner discover the smallpox vaccination by innoculating an eight year old boy with the pus from a milkmaid’s cowpox sore?

Before most doctors were bought and paid for, they too recommended taking the waters, getting fresh air, enjoying sunshine, and eating quality homemade food. All of those things repair the etheric. In our current age, when illness strikes, the patient is offered two choices, often in combination: amputate it or drug it. Sometimes amputation and/or drugs work; most of the time they are at best a quick fix and at worst ineffective and damaging.

I know I have besmirched massage in this article, but one of the primary ways of healing one’s own etheric body is via massage. My husband is a 65 year old type two diabetic. Diabetics, including my husband, tend to have problems with infection. My husband had severe athlete’s foot which completely went away after about a month of nightly foot massages. I am the masseuse because he is not comfortable with massage otherwise. Massage may very well save his feet from amputation. I find it interesting and sad that no doctor of his has ever suggested massage. Personally, I get a massage whenever I can afford it, which is not very often. Massage is tremendously beneficial.

Another thing I suggest to alleviate etheric starvation is to expose the spleen area — the patch of skin just beneath the heart — to direct sunlight. When I am in a sunny parking lot, I will duck down in my car so I can lift up my shirt to soak up the sun’s rays. I am not a happy exhibitionist. In my own case, I feel better the moment I expose my ribcage to the light.

Possibly the best remedy of all for etheric starvation is to walk slowly through a wild or semi-wild space, taking in the sights and sounds and at least attempting to communicate with the spirits of trees, grass, animals, and the elements themselves. The Druid Tree Ritual, which is a fancy term for sitting with your back to any given tree and soaking in the tree’s energy while letting it soak in your energy, is as restorative as mutual orgasm sex, at least in my own case.

As most of my readers know, I have recently finished my second draft of a book that will talk about the rejuvenation of the etheric via connection with land spirits and the construction of a net of spells, this book is called Sacred Homemaking. Wish me luck as I will soon pitch it to a small publisher.

The etheric plane is so damaged in our iteration of the Kali Yuga, I am not sure it is possible to fix it. I have often said that I look forward to a future incarnation when the last plane has fallen from the sky and the last car has sputtered to a halt on the last paved road because the etheric plane will finally have a chance to mend from the Industrial Revolution. For the time being, miracles of healing here and there won’t do much to stop the constant pain and the litanies that arise around it. I will be talking about those litanies in a future essay.  

The Allopathic Complex and Its Consequences

luigi mangione’s last words

The second amendment means I am my own chief executive and commander in chief of my own military.  I authorize my own act of self-defense in response to a hostile entity making war on me and my family.

Nelson Mandela says no form of violence can be excused.  Camus says it’s all the same, whether you live or die or have a cup of coffee.  MLK says violence never brings permanent peace.  Gandhi says that non-violence is the mightiest power available to mankind.

That’s who they tell you are heroes.  That’s who our revolutionaries are.

Yet is that not capitalistic? Non-violence keeps the system working at full speed ahead.

What did it get us.  Look in the mirror.

They want us to be non-violent, so that they can grow fat off the blood they take from us.

The only way out is through.  Not all of us will make it.  Each of us is our own chief executive.  You have to decide what you will tolerate.

In Gladiator 1 Maximus cuts into the military tattoo that identifies him as part of the Roman legion.  His friend asks, “Is that the sign of your god?”  As Maximus carves deeper into his own flesh, as his own blood drips down his skin, Maximus smiles and nods yes.  The tattoo represents the emperor, who is god.  The god emperor has made himself part of Maximus’s own flesh.  The only way to destroy the emperor is to destroy himself.  Maximus smiles through the pain because he knows it is worth it.

These might be my last words.  I don’t know when they will come for me.  I will resist them at any cost.  That’s why I smile through the pain.

They diagnosed my mother with severe neuropathy when she was forty-one years old.  She said it started ten years before that with burning sensations in her feet and occasional sharp stabbing pains.  At first the pain would last a few moments, then fade to tingling, then numbness, then fade to nothing a few days later.

The first time the pain came she ignored it.  Then it came a couple of times a year and she ignored it.  Then every couple months.  Then a couple times a week.  At that point by the time the tingling faded to numbness, the pain would start, and the discomfort was constant.  At that point even going from the couch to the kitchen to make her own lunch became a major endeavor.

She started with ibuprofen, until the stomach aches and acid reflux made her switch to acetaminophen.  Then the headaches and barely sleeping made her switch back to ibuprofen.

The first doctor said it was psychosomatic.  Nothing was wrong.  She needed to relax, destress, sleep more.  

The second doctor said it was a compressed nerve in her spine.  She needed back surgery.  It would cost $180,000.  Recovery would be six months minimum before walking again.  Twelve months for full potential recovery, and she would never lift more than ten pounds of weight again.  

The third doctor performed a Nerve Conduction Study, Electromyography, MRI, and blood tests.  Each test cost $800 to $1200.  She hit the $6000 deductible of her UnitedHealthcare plan in October.  Then the doctor went on vacation, and my mother wasn’t able to resume tests until January when her deductible reset.  

The tests showed severe neuropathy.  The $180,000 surgery would have had no effect.

They prescribed opioids for the pain.  At first the pain relief was worth the price of constant mental fog and constipation.  She didn’t tell me about that until later.  All I remember is we took a trip for the first time in years, when she drove me to Monterey to go to the aquarium.  I saw an otter in real life, swimming on its back.  We left at 7am and listened to Green Day on the four-hour car ride.  Over time, the opioids stopped working.  They made her MORE sensitive to pain, and she felt withdrawal symptoms after just two or three hours.  

Then gabapentin.  By now the pain was so bad she couldn’t exercise, which compounded the weight gain from the slowed metabolic rate and hormonal shifts.  And it barely helped the pain, and made her so fatigued she would go an entire day without getting out of bed.  

Then Corticosteroids.  Which didn’t even work.

The pain was so bad I would hear my mother wake up in the night screaming in pain.  I would run into her room, asking if she’s OK.  Eventually I stopped getting up.  She’d yell out anguished shrieks of wordless pain or the word “f**k” stretched out and distended to its limits.  I’d turn over and go back to sleep.  

All of this while they bled us dry with follow-up appointment after follow-up appointment, specialist consultations, and more imagine scans.  Each appointment was promised to be fully covered, until the insurance claims were delayed and denied.  Allopathic medicine did nothing to help my mother’s suffering.  Yet it is the foundation of our entire society.

My mother told me that on a good day the nerve pain was like her legs were immersed in ice water.  On a bad day it felt like her legs were clamped in a machine shop vise, screwed down to where the cranks stopped turning, then crushed further until her ankle bones splintered and cracked to accommodate the tightening clamp.  She had more bad days than good.

My mother crawled to the bathroom on her hands and knees.  I slept in the living room to create more distance from her cries in the night.  I still woke up, and still went back to sleep.

Back then I thought there was nothing I could do.

The high copays made consistent treatment impossible.  New treatments were denied as “not medically necessary.”  Old treatments didn’t work, and still put us out for thousands of dollars.

UnitedHealthcare limited specialist consultations to twice a year.

Then they refused to cover advanced imaging, which the specialists required for an appointment.  Prior authorizations took weeks, then months.

UnitedHealthcare constantly changed their claim filing procedure.  They said my mother’s doctor needed to fax his notes.  Then UnitedHealthcare said they did not save faxed patient correspondence, and required a hard copy of the doctor’s typed notes to be mailed.  Then they said they never received the notes.  They were unable to approve the claim until they had received and filed the notes.

They promised coverage, and broke their word to my mother.

With every delay, my anger surged.  With every denial, I wanted to throw the doctor through the glass wall of their hospital waiting room.  

But it wasn’t them.  It wasn’t the doctors, the receptionists, administrators, pharmacists, imaging technicians, or anyone we ever met.  It was UnitedHealthcare.  

People are dying.  Evil has become institutionalized.  Corporations make billions of dollars off the pain, suffering, death, and anguished cries in the night of millions of Americans.  

We entered into an agreement for healthcare with a legally binding contract that promised care commensurate with our insurance payments and medical needs.  Then UnitedHealthcare changes the rules to suit their own profits.  They think they make the rules, and think that because it’s legal that no one can punish them.

They think there’s no one out there who will stop them.

Now my own chronic back pain wakes me in the night, screaming in pain.  I sought out another type of healing that showed me the real antidote to what ails us.

I bide my time, saving the last of my strength to strike my final blows.  All extractors must be forced to swallow the bitter pain they deal out to the millions.

As our own chief executives, it’s our obligation to make our own lives better.  First and foremost, we must seek to improve our own circumstances and defend ourselves.  As we do so, our actions have ripple effects that can improve the lives of others.  

Rules exist between two individuals, in a network that covers the entire earth.  Some of these rules are written down.  Some of these rules emerge from natural respect between two individuals.  Some of these rules are defined in physical laws, like the properties of gravity, magnetism or the potential energy stored in the chemical bonds of potassium nitrate.  

No single document better encapsulates the belief that all people are equal in fundamental worth and moral status and the frameworks for fostering collective well-being than the US Constitution.

Writing a rule down makes it into a law.  I don’t give a f**k about the law.  Law means nothing.  What does matter is following the guidance of our own logic and what we learn from those before us to maximize our own well-being, which will then maximize the well-being of our loved ones and the community.

That’s where UnitedHealthcare went wrong.  They violated their contract with my mother, with me, and tens of millions of other Americans.  This threat to my own health, my family’s health, and the health of our country’s people requires me to respond with an act of war.

END

"People aren't living longer, they're dying longer." -Eating You Alive, 2018 documentary

The current medical system is not designed to heal. Instead, it seeks to keep people sick in order for a large sub-class to make a living off of their suffering. This sub-class consists of doctors and nurses, medical administrators, billers, hospital construction crews, health insurance agents, university professors, scientific researchers, CDC and FDA employees, drug czars, and a bevy of other professionals who participate in the largest ongoing swindle in history.

The Blind Leading the Blind

In most cases, I believe medical professionals are mostly innocent of any deliberate plan to keep people sick.  To quote Bruce Hornsby and the Range, that's just the way it is and some things will never change.  The state of modern medicine is a dumpster fire, but in the minds of all those who derive their bank account deposits from medical grift, it's the only dumpster fire they've ever known.  They are used to the heat and the smell.  Medical professionals do as they are told, whether it is mom and dad telling them to get a job and "medical receptionist" is the first thing they are able to fall into or when society tells them to become a doctor and they discover they can memorize a great deal about anatomy and physiology, so might as well go with the flow and go into debt. 

Currently, only 40 medical schools in the US require a minimum of 25 hours of nutritional training for doctors.  Even if doctors suddenly start learning about the role of nutrition in human health while in medical school, the FDA dictates the Food Pyramid.  The FDA is squarely in the pockets of Big Pharma and Big Agriculture, which is why its Food Pyramid has recommended at least 2-3 servings of animal flesh and secretions per day since its inception in 1992.  

Animal protein generally causes cancer and disease, but you'll hear that from very few doctors because they have never been incentivized to connect the dots of all of our major diseases and animal flesh and secretion foods.  Why would they?  It's much easier to do what you are told.  We are told to believe and trust doctors despite obvious evidence that their diets are not working for them personally.  My current family doctor has battled chronic disease and cancer.  I have known many doctors who drink heavily or pop lots of pills.  In general, doctors aren't typically healthy people, which has as much to do with their stress levels as the food and drugs they consume.  I get it; they're human.  Nevertheless, considering their advice is supposed to be the gospel and "Ask your doctor" is the catchphrase of our era, shouldn't we expect a degreed health advisor to be, oh gee, I dunno... healthy?  I'm healthier than most of the doctors who have ever treated me.  I don't take any drugs, OTC or prescription.  I don't drink excessively, I engage in regular moderate exercise, and I don't indulge any addictions to the point where I become entrapped by them.  If I am supposed to ask a cancer victim for advice on health, isn't that like asking someone who regularly gets in car accidents for driving advice?  Should I ask someone who constantly loses at tennis about how to improve my game?  Shall I ask a person who has never completed a coherent novel how to write fiction?  

Failed Routines and the Definition of Insanity

Allopathic medicine does not treat root causes because it only knows how to treat symptoms.  If you treat a symptom of a disease without addressing the root cause, it is much like lopping off the above ground portion of a dandelion.  The dandelion will still thrive despite the fact you cut off its foliage.  A relative of mine (RIP) had three bypass surgeries.  His chest was cracked open over and over again and his heart routed of cholesterol snakes.  Each time he went in for heart surgery he was diminished, his mental power and his body strength fading.  He never considered changing his diet or becoming more active.  He was content in his misery.  Like many oldsters, he almost seemed to enjoy regaling everyone within listening range with the epic litany of his suffering, pain, and expensive hospital stays.  

The first way allopaths like to treat disease is to amputate.  When I was looking up how to treat my cat's gum inflammation on the internet, I was saddened but not at all surprised to see allopathic veterinarians recommending the pre-emptive removal of the cat's teeth so they did not decay and cause inflammation.  I was reminded of Angelina Jolie's removal of her healthy breasts because she tested positive for the breast cancer gene.  Removing an organ, teeth, a limb, or one's breasts should be seen as a last resort, but allopaths have a major fetish for doing it ahead of schedule.  Sometimes an -ectomy is the only thing that will work, and in that case, full lasers ahead.  Removing a cat's teeth because their gums might become inflamed is barbaric.  On the upside, I was able to find an herbal remedy with calendula that has eased my cat's mouth swelling considerably, no drastic measures necessary. 

The only time allopaths seem to consider prevention is when a child is questioning his or her gender role.  An entire field of medical profiteers rush to outcomes of chemical and physical castration for minors who might just be plain old gay or lesbian at age twelve, or who might only be curious because they're twelve.  

The second way allopaths like to treat symptoms is with drugs.  Allopaths are glorified drug dealers.  This is fine and good if your medical ailments are confined to a case of pinkeye and one feral cat bite within the last fifteen years like mine.  It's not good at all if you have chronic pain and an entire system determined to keep you in chronic pain so you'll depend on their pharmaceutical products.  Antibiotics are especially insidious as they are pumped into animals who are later consumed as food; as a result bacteria have evolved into super-bacteria.  

The Panacea and the Scapegoat

In the same way a kid becomes popular at school, there is often a "food of the moment" or an ingredient that gets propelled into the spotlight.  Turmeric is the current It Food.  Soon it will be shoved to the wayside for another cure-all, which will be turned into high-priced supplements complete with infomercials.  Likewise, there are ingredients that become damned as The Great Evil in the form of scapegoats.  Right now, the heady role of Evil Food is being played by wheat gluten.  Vegetable oils run a close second, and refined sugar is a distant third.  Back in the 1920s, the Evillest Food was surely the demon Alcohol.  Vaccines were to be the panacea to end all panaceas.  Unfortunately, their benefits, much like the severity of the Coronavirus, turned out to be imaginary.  Far more real were their side effects, including permanently damaging heart inflammation, type two diabetes, tremors, and death.  

Panaceas and scapegoats are what you do when you have no idea what you are doing.  The panacea is the sought after cure all and the scapegoat is the kill all everyone loves to hate.  The panacea is the long-awaited Savior who comes down from Heaven and delivers everything the masses could ever want for free, just as long as they have repented and dedicated their souls only to him as the One God.  The scapegoat is the evilly evil villain who is blamed for all of the world's ills burning in the eternal lake of fire.  He's the food or herbal version of Donald Trump or if you occupy the other side of the political spectrum, Klaus Schwab.

Nursing Homes

I used to bring students to nursing homes when I began my music teaching career in the 90s and in the 00s.  Whenever I have hosted small performances in nursing homes, there are always at least two or three child performers who are afraid to go in.  Considering the performances involve fewer than ten child pianists, singers, or guitarists, two or three is a significant number.  The student's fears are not unfounded, because the performers who do the mini-shows are beset with plaintive pleas from the residents who wish to "go home" or who are generally confused, sad, and begging for help.  

The nursing home-as-business-model is yet another way our civilization cannibalizes its own in the final stages of collapse.  In this way it is similar to the hospitals I frequently rail against for their outsized role in what is left of the real economy.  Though there are some people who want to be in nursing homes, from my experience, it is where you warehouse the elderly until they die because the elderly are no longer respected as sources of competence or wisdom.  

Coronatarianism was the ultimate straw in breaking any kind of observation or oversight of nursing homes and hospitals.  Both are now wholesale murder camps depending on the caprice and the amount of payoffs given to the nursing home or hospital administrators in question. Lockdowns and visitor prohibitions were utterly convenient and removed seeing eyes from potential scenes of medical neglect, abuse, or just bumbling hapless idiocy.  The poor souls crying for my students to take them home from the pricey assisted living facility now have absolutely zero advocates.  Any potentially caring outsider is forbidden from entry and the workers on the inside of the facility have either been brainwashed or fired for not receiving the experimental MRNA therapy.  

Our Era as Dystopian Fiction

The Welcome Waggin' Pandemic Protocols: Due to the pandemic, we are unable to go inside of the homes for appointments. When we arrive the day of the appointment, we will call to let you know we are there and we will have you bring your pets outside to us secured by a leash, carrier, or wrapped in a towel. We can perform veterinary services in the yard, on a deck/porch/patio, or in the garage with the door open. We may also be able to take some animals back to our vehicle for veterinary services. We will be wearing personal protective gear and request for everyone to be wearing masks and maintain 6 feet of social distancing during the appointment. We are unable to allow pet parents to assist in restraining at this time. Please call our office if anyone in the house shows any signs of illness, tests positive for the virus, has contact with anyone who has tested positive for coronavirus, or traveled outside of the state of Illinois in the 14 days prior to the appointment.