Saturday, June 26, 2021

The Brock Monument "Insurrection."

Saturday, June 26, 2021.

A group of people gathered. What they had in common was a tendency to analyse political policy in terms of costs vs. benefits.

While the costs, to most Canadians, have been hidden behind borrowed and newly printed money, used to provide enormous handouts to sufficient numbers of voters so that the acceptance of the shredding of traditional human rights in Canada could be accomplished with almost zero resistance.

However, there have been those who have slipped between the cracks. The media doesn't cover them, or, if it does, it blames their plight on the pandemic, instead of the lockdowns.

It requires little intellectual capacity to understand that the economic, social, psychological, spiritual, and medical damage was not caused by the WuFlu. If that were the case the lack of access to normal living would have been caused by all of the illness and death, wrought by the virus. The economy would have been shut down by the lack of people capable of working.

But that is not what happened.

Government edicts shut the economy down, creating THE SAME ECONOMIC RESULT as a truly devastating virus whould have. And we continue to suffer the insolence being propagated by the Junk News media as it blames all of the harm on the virus.

It's just too stupid to be stupid.

I am not religious at all, but I enjoyed Pastor Henry Hidlebtandt's impassioned speech.

I didn't realize that using maximum zoom would degrade the video. I appologize for the poor quality of the video, but the mic picked up the sound very well..


Lyin' Eise

Given that censorship has now become acceptable in Canada, it comes as no surprise that Mayor Fred Eisenberger wastes no time taking advantage of this new political tool.

I must say though, I am slightly flattered that this coniving charlatan would rather not be exposed to my criticisms, nor of course, does he want anyone else to see them.

I suspect that he especially didn't like some of the videos I posted to his Twitter feed.

HE DIDN'T FLY

LYING EISENBERGER

WHO FLUNG POO? THE FRED COMEDY SHOW.

Thursday, June 24, 2021

Why Do Buildings Collapse?

Just some thoughts on the building that collapsed in Surfside, Florida.

I worked on a highrise building in Hamilton back in 1975. That building was unique.

I was installing kitchen and bathroom exhaust systems in that building. Part of my job involved attaching the exhaust boxes to the ceilings. If you live in an apartment building, the exhaust boxes are what is behind the grills you see in your kitchens and bathrooms.

I would use a Hilti gun, or a RamSet to fasten the boxes to the concrete. The thing that was unique about this building was that when I pulled the trigger, which ignited a charge, which drove a piston, which drove a steel pin into the concrete, often the piston would blow right through the box and into the ceiling, and a cloud of concrete dust would fall back in my face. I had hit a hollow spot in the concrete.

In order to get the boxes to attach to the ceiling, in this case, I would have to move the box to a different location and try again, hopefully finding a spot where...

there was actually some solid concrete.

Even though I was supposed to fasten the boxes with four pins, sometimes I had to settle for three.

My dad was a sheet metal contractor specializing in ventilation for highrise residential apartment buildings. When I mentioned the issue to him he said, "that's probably because they didn't bother to properly vibrate the wet concrete."

The vibration of the concrete, as I understand it, is intended to ensure that all of the wet concrete is properly settled before it dries and solidifies. I saw it being done many times. They would use a long snake that looked like a vacuum cleaner hose and just let it swim around in the liquid concrete.

To make a long story short, every time I either picked up or dropped off a fare at that building over the ensuing forty-plus years, I would think about that vibration issue with the concrete. And it would have been one of the first things in my mind if I ever contemplated renting a unit there.

During my short career in the sheet metal business, I worked on quite a few high-rise apartment buildings. I don't recall any of them having that problem, or at least having a problem serious enough that I can still remember it 46 years later.

Oh, and one other thing. I recall showing up at the site on a very windy day. The exterior panels containing the windows, which I think were also attached using Hilti guns, and because the building was only partially constructed, hence some of the floors were effectively wind-tunnels.

The wind was ripping some of these panels from their moorings and they would come sailing down to crash in the streets, with the windows violently shattering. It was pretty exciting for a 21-year-old sheet metal installer to see this shit going down. So the concrete walls had no more integrity than the ceilings.

If the vibration issue applied to the floors/ceilings of the building, who is to say that the vertical supports are any better?

If a highrise building ever collapses in Hamilton, I bet that will be the one.

Should Experimental Vaccines be Mandated for Children and Young People?

In order to answer that question, one requires access to information. Unfortunately, we have rapidly descended into an age where information that does not conform to the dominate narrative and, I suspect, not coincidentally, information that might impede the ambitions of a spectrum of special interests, is being viciously censored.

Even before I heard what Dr. Robert Malone and Prof. Byram Bridle have to say, I smelled a great big stinking rat with respect to the speed with which the COVID-19 vaccines were rolled out. The fanatical zeal with which the politicians and information gatekeepers have been promoting its application to the entire population sets off screaming red warning signals in my mind.

It has become a natural reflex, after a lifetime of observation, to regard anything that comes out the mouth of a politician, or one of their hirelings, as diametrically opposite to the truth. I apply the same rule to most of what I hear or see on corporate, processed, junk news media. (For example, see here.)

Consistent application of these rules makes me right more often than I am wrong.

It's reassuring to me to learn that some of my own reservations regarding the fanatical effort, now in play, to cajole the population into accepting the injection of these experimental vaccines, even to the point of volunteering their own children, are shared by some highly credentialled individuals who know infinitely more about the subject of COVID-19 vaccinations than I ever will.

Click on this link to hear a Trish Wood Podcast about the concerns several experts, including Dr. Robert Malone and Prof. Byram Bridle have about the rollout of these experimental vaccines. It's a long podcast, but well worth hearing, especially for anyone considering having their children vaccinated.

Or not.


Friday, June 18, 2021

The Yuk Factor

I was about three years old when I first saw another kid do something that almost made me puke. She was slurping water out of the road gutter by the sidewalk.

The next thing I remember was playing with this kid in the schoolyard at Earl Kitchener Public School on Dundurn Ave. in 1959. He showed me something he thought was quite brilliant. The playground pavement was splattered with flattened chewing gum that other kids had spit out of their mouths, and what he had figured out was that he could peel this flat, greyish slime from the tarmac and re-chew it. Yummy! I can still hear the crunching from the bits of tar and other detritus like sticks, gravel, and worm and insect guts that were now part of that candy.

Sometimes I wonder if that kid got polio.

I doubt his parents were the ones who taught him to do that, but these days, seeing how many parents are happy to force their kids to wear face diapers and get injected with experimental mRNA vaccines, I am, perhaps, a little less doubtful.

People who know me will attest to my germ phobia. I've had this condition since before I went to Kindergarten. I know I got the condition from my mother probably out of fear of the poliovirus.

I won't drink out of another person's glass, or take a bite from someone else's sandwich unless I can get an unchewed portion. I don't wipe chip salt off on my pants because that is where urinal splash drops might congregate and it is only with the greatest reluctance that I will open a door to a public place, especially if it's a washroom without using a paper towel or something similar.

Not everyone has this condition. In my cab-driving days, I had many opportunities to see the kind of people whose asses sat on those seats. In the days of vinyl seats, which I believe were mandatory for cabs when I started driving in 1977, and especially on very hot, humid days, you would not always know just how filthy some people are until they exited the cab. I developed a theory about that. My theory was that most of the greasy stink on some people was coming from the butt area. When sitting on a taxi seat, this area was covered, but when they left the cab you would be treated to a strong whiff of what they had left on the seats.

I was talking to a cab driver friend of mine about this issue and he told me a story about a drunk he had who dropped his french fries all over the seat, then nonchalantly picked them back up, and ate them. I don't know if they had any ketchup on them.

And now, here we are with this global mask hysteria. It makes me wonder how many people who, having forgotten their mask to enter a grocery store, might just pick one up off the ground and use that. To me, that is the equivalent of licking toilet seats in a sleazy bar or a jail cell, but hey, as I hope to have demonstrated with my rant, it takes all kinds.

If the video doesn't play, try clicking here.


Thursday, June 10, 2021

Ms. Half-Face

I went to the LCBO today at 7:55 because of the line at the Beer Store across the street. It reminded me of the idiot lines at Duffy's Tavern back in the 1970s.

Duffy's was a very popular bar on King Street, north side between Hughson and John.

On weekends it was always filled to capacity. In those days "capacity" was based on fire safety, not some exaggerated invisible threat.

Duffy's had devised a clever method of line control.

They had two lines.

The first line was out on the street. A bouncer would stand at the door to control access. I must admit, I was fooled by this more than once. There was always a group of us and once we got the green light from the doorman we were thrilled to have finally gained access to the tavern, only to discover ANOTHER line.

This was rather clever. If a patron saw a line that was too long, he or she might have been deterred from waiting, but by the time you got to the second line, you had already invested your time.

This second line went down a stairway into the actual bar area. Another bouncer stood down there.

The bouncers were always rude. I've seen it many times. Give someone a little bit of authority and they will milk it to the mask, I mean max.

So one night, when two of my buddies and I were allowed to enter the street door, the bouncer barked, "get over there and stand against the wall."

Something clicked in me. I turned to my friends and said, "Wait a minute! We are supposed to be customers here. They are treating us like inmates in a concentration camp. Are you guys willing to put up with that?"

For once, I had some consensus. We all turned around and walked out.

One of the guys was an unruly drinker. On our way out, he ripped some kind of poster off of the wall. I thought it was a valid statement.

Fast forward to today. I was third or fourth in line at the Beer Store. I've really had it up to the eyeballs with this sci-fi drama we have all been forced to be extras in. I noticed there was no lineup at the LCBO across the street and I still had five minutes before it closed, so I got in my car and went there. Muscle memory.

I picked up my six and on my way to the cash, I noticed HER.

Sidenote: I have noticed, after 15 months of this clown show, that I have adapted somewhat in my ability to recognize faces. It's kind of like how you unconsciously learn to lip-read when your hearing deteriorates.

I am beginning to be able to recognize half-faces.

And there I was, at the LCBO, and I recognized THAT half-face. If I had seen her at Walmart or Freshco, I might not have noticed, unless she started following me around to see whether the stuff I was putting in my cart was "essential."

But this was the LCBO and I had already become acquainted with the half-face lady in that context.

She was the one who sheepdogged me back to the little square cut-out in the plexiglass where payment is supposed to be done. (Aarff! Baaah!) Because my hearing ain't so good anymore, I always walk past the radiation shield to hear better. Not wishing to be denied access to the essential booze I was buying, I let her bully me, but I couldn't resist commenting, "It's like we're all just extras in a sci-fi movie," to which she replied, "Well, some of those extras aren't getting it. I raised my eyebrows and said, "Is that right?"

The next time I bumped into Ms. Half-Face was about two weeks ago. I was careful to stand in front of the square cut-out for this flaming neurotic, again, out of fear of losing access to essentials.

The transaction went smoothly but I noticed she was STILL agitated. As it turned out, the lady behind me in the commie queue had walked past THE SIGN! The fact that there was still a good ten feet separating us made no difference to Ms. Half-Face. She barked at the hapless extra for not following the choreography. "You have to stand at the sign!!!"

That wasn't the end of it. Ms. Half-Face marched away from her cash register to deliver a stern lecture to the poor sheepling about the critical importance of saving lives via mindless conformity.

I think the scamdemic has nudged us all into a new form of non-verbal communication and half-face recognition because when I went back to the LCBO this evening, I noticed her looking at me with those narrowed eyes. "I've got my eye on you, you recalcitrant white supremacist," I imagined her thinking.

Thankfully, she wasn't the cashier I got. Mine was actually pleasant. I asked her if these plexiglass shields might be available for sale, at bargain-basement prices, once this insanity ended and she replied, "I don't think it ever will end."

I agreed with her, saying, more or less, "They have a whole warehouse full of emergencies at the ready, not least of which is the bogus climate emergency, that will give the control freaks and opportunists an excuse to impose this travesty from now until doomsday.

She agreed.

Then I noticed that Ms. Half-Face was glaring at us both.

It didn't take me long to figure out why.

I had moved beyond the radiation shield to conduct my business.

I hope I didn't get the sane lady in any trouble.

As I think about it now, I am starting to visualize a scenario where, on a future visit to that LCBO, I might have my essentials in hand and I will be able to tell Ms. Half-Face to go and fuck herself.


2020 - 2021 A Stampede of Fear


THE STORY OF YOUR ENSLAVEMENT

Wednesday, June 9, 2021

The New Normal

Alexa?

          Wipe my ass.

What is going to happen if the 10%, or the 1% of the population who are operating the machinery really don't need the other 90%?

The New Normal


YOUR GUIDE TO THE GREAT CONVERGENCE

Wednesday, June 2, 2021

The Sign.

Today a friend wrote to me,

"I went into IdiotWorld the other day.  I went under the taped off areas grabbed socks, golf balls and brio filters. 

I knew I would be on video but I didn't give a fuck.  I went to the self check out and everything went through no problem.  Not one of the WallyWorld workers asked me anything even though there were a few of them wiping down the self check counters. 

I don't think they really give a fuck....and neither do I."

Some people, probably most people, judging from what I hear and see around me... like the people wearing face diapers in their cars or while walking down the street. And the shite they spew on CH News every day... would be appalled by the attitude of this person, but I like him. No wonder CHCH News shadow-banned me from their YouTube channel, probably, and instantly (psyche training) would conclude that this man, like myself, is some kind of a male White Republican, white supremacist, sexist, ablelist, KKK member, conspiracy theorist.

But I think he is quite sane, is asking the right questions, and, as a person of intelligence, is grossly insulted by the amount of bullshit that is currently flying around about COVID-19, along with the number of people who are just sucking it up. Gobbling it. Slurping it.

Yep. Don't that ejaculate taste great?

So, I went to the LCBO yesterday to buy some beer.

She was there.

Middle-aged. Gray-haired. I didn't get a look at her face...

But I vaguely remembered she was the one who gave me shit for walking past the plexiglass, instead of conducting our business through the little square hole designed for commercial exchange.

Under different circumstances, I would have told her to go and fuck herself. But I needed the beer, it was essential, so I played along.

I commented to her, "This is right out of some sci-fi movie, and all of us are just extras."

She replied, indignantly, "Right, but some of these extras just aren't getting it."

Instantly, I knew I was dealing with one of them.

I just rolled my eyes and said "Is that right?"

It's a crapshoot out there. 

I think a lot more people than let up admit that they are gradually coming around to the idea that this whole shitshow is nothing but a farce.

Those that see it are less likely to enforce its idiocy. That is why some of us can still get away with buying shit that is on the "vebotten" list. You can buy Dorritoes, but you can't buy plates to eat your food on. If you break a "non-essential" plate well, you can still lick the floor.

But there are still those astonishingly neurotic individuals who think this is a real-life version of some sci-fi movie.

Case in point:  

During an essential visit to the same liquor store, yesterday, there was only one cashier. She waved me over. I suspected it was the same woman I had met before, so I carefully avoided standing to the side of the plexiglass and paid her through the hole. I don't need any friction when it comes to buying beer.

Fuck. I'll put on a clown hat if that's what they want. I'll even wear an adult diaper outside my pants so long as it doesn't socially distance me from my beer. And as long as it hasn't already been used.

But the poor woman in line behind me, I felt rather sorry for her.

She had walked past the fucking sign! Can you believe it?

Didn't she know she was putting people's lives at risk???

Anyway, the ever-vigilant LCBO cashier noticed her transgression and ordered her to move back to where the sign was, even though she was a good ten feet behind me as I went through the checkpoint.

On top of that, after this vigilant social disciplinarian had concluded her business with me, she actually left her post, walked up to the disease-carrying customer, and proceeded to deliver a lecture on the importance of following the posted rules.

At first, I felt sorry for the poor customer behind me.

But as I walked out, I had another thought.

I thought that, "if you are willing to bend over, spread your ass-cheeks, and take this fucking bullshit without complaint,"

Then you deserve it.

On the other hand, I still wanted the beer, so I was no better than her.

THE REAL ALEX JONES | PART 1