Restroom Difficulty

Don't you hate it when you're at work?

The end.

Wait, that's not the end. You're at work — on the bottom floor, because that's where the snack machine is — and you decide to use the restroom. The cleaning lady is in there, with her cart blocking the door. So, you take the stairs back to your floor, the sixth, because you haven't met your daily stairs quota and have to work off this latest snack. Coming around the corner to this restroom, panting, you find the cleaning lady is now there, blocking this door!

I hate when that happens.

Hiking with Elizabeth

Went hiking with my daughter, Elizabeth, yesterday evening. There's a nice little park in Thompson's Station with fairly extensive walking trails on the south end of the park, near the water tower.

We saw an owl, so, with her new birthday-gift SLR camera in hand, Elizabeth shushed and gestured for me to stop while she took pictures. She got some good ones, including one with its head turned all the way around, watching us with those big eyes. Don't ask me what type it was. I'm not an ornithologist, though I am impressed with myself for using that word.

Unfortunately, other than several squirrels and one chipmunk, that was the extent of our animal encounters. I was actually hoping for a snake, just to get a reaction from Elizabeth. Feeling lost at one point — I told you those trails were extensive — it occurred to me to bring up Apple Maps on my phone to see if it remembered where I parked my car. It did! Not sure how it does that, but, whatever.

My relief was short-lived, for another hiker showed up right after that. Sneaked up, really. Hadn't made a sound until all of a sudden he was there, behind us.

He was a white guy, bigger than me and younger, too. Us white guys are much more likely to be psycho killers, unfortunately, especially those who hang out in the woods. The most worrying part was that he was dressed all in black, including his hoodie… with the hood up… on a warm day. Kinda looked like the composite sketch of the Unabomber from back in the day, without sunglasses.

I whispered to Elizabeth, “If he attacks us, you run while I hold him off.” Seriously.

[Stay tuned for part two, though some of the suspense is gone since you already know I lived to tell the tale.]

See Hiking with Elizabeth, part 2

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Hiking with Elizabeth, Part 2

[continued from Hiking with Elizabeth]

The scariest part was when we stopped. Then he stopped. I had my phone in hand, looking at the map. There was a tense moment until he smiled and said, “Y’all lost?”

“Just trying to find our way back to the parking lot,” I said. He walked on ahead, but not before saying, “Turn left at the next trail, then left again at the road. It’ll take you to the parking lot.” He was only pretending to be kind and courteous, of course. I could tell.

But seriously, it was strange how, after he left, my phone started playing a podcast or radio station or something. There were no programs open on my phone other than the map. Freaky. So, I turned it off, then back on, and that seemed to fix it.

Elizabeth commented on how fast the guy was. As soon as he passed us, walking, he went around a corner and was then completely out of sight… until he came up from behind us later!

Seeing me giving him the eye — because Elizabeth was between me and him — he smiled again and said, “I promise, I’m not following you.”

“That’s exactly what an attacker would say,” I joked.

“My knees are too sore,” he explained, “so I walk downhill, and run uphill.”

Likely story. Once we were back at our car, we got in and turned the AC on because we were both sweaty. Driving out of the parking lot, Elizabeth said, “Oh, there’s that guy again.”

“Is he killing anyone?”


We then went to the corner gas station convenience store for an Icee, and it was good.


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Chlorine Dioxide Breaks Down Glyphosate in Body (allegedly)

via autism-treated-with-chlorine-dioxide

"I should say something about bleach, as a number of critics insist MMS (chlorine dioxide) is a bleach and, thus, a poison. Chlorine dioxide, the chemical that is MMS, has never been used domestically as a bleach for cleaning toilets. It is an industrial bleach when used FOUR THOUSAND times more concentrated than MMS. It is never used for bleaching purposes in the homes of people of this world."

It’s being marketed as something called MMS. I took it for awhile about 10 years ago and don’t remember noticing any benefit.

People have started a church to give them constitutional protection to take it: miracle-cure

Cayenne Supplements

I'd like to report that if anyone has prostate issues, the best treatment I know of is cayenne pepper capsules. Some time ago I bought size 00 gelatin capsules and a capsule machine, and make my own. I take a couple every morning and I can feel it working on the prostate. Cayenne is known for fighting fungus and cancer. The prostate is known for being difficult to get medicine to, but cayenne seems to have no problem. Cayenne is also good for inflammation and aches and pains.

Since every male over 40 probably has some prostate cancer — only way to know for sure is to get a biopsy which has been known to spread the cancer and lead to early death — I decided to also get apricot kernels, which I just received today. I get differing info on dosage — some say take 1 per 10 lbs of body weight, others say take no more than 2 a day. I'll have to study up on it. I'm not sure of the quality of these as they come from China. Next time I'll probably go for a more trusted source. Prostate cancer is a slow-growing cancer that people normally don't die of (without medical treatment, that is).


Disclaimer: according to Wikipedia, “B17” is known by the highly technical term of “quackery,” although I know someone who successfully fought off stage 4 cancer with apricot kernels.

Leaving Zazzle

Here's my goodbye letter to Zazzle. Yes, it's awfully bitter and “conspiracy theory”-ish, but I was upset. 🙂

"Your new policy sucks, big time. And when I tried to create something new before the deadline [after which they start charging monthly fees], it was so freaking difficult [to post it for sale], I gave up. I'm sure you did that on purpose so people like me would get disgusted and close their account. You could then keep all of your lower-producing creators' left-over pennies [below the minimum pay-out threshold] for yourself, huh? Those pennies add up!

No, your “help” did not help. And your customer “support” were typically useless corporate drones, probably outsourced to one of the world's slave-wage countries.

Please delete my account from this sh*tty website, with its over-priced products and miniscule commissions. I'm moving to CafePress."