That was fun… not

Wednesday was a bit of a day all things considered. Kind of a good news / bad news day. There used to be a pub game where you had to take an item of news and spin it to either be good or bad. I think the gag has fallen into disuse since the 1970’s, but I’d like to dust this old joke off just for todays post.

First, the bad news; our current landlady refused to give us a reference. (You can boo now)
Now the good news; our new landlord accepted a reference from the bank! (Cheer wildly)
Ah, the bad news; we’ve got to change our address. (Boo, hiss)
Now the good news; to a much bigger apartment! (Yay!)
The bad news; the new apartment needs redecoration. (Euw!)
The good news; new landlord has offered to pay for the paint. (Cool!)

And so on. Okay, we’ve shelled out half the damage deposit already (No need to boo, joke’s over) but that’s secured our new tenancy for January 1st by which time all our kit will be undercover in the new place, and we’ll be painting over the current hideous colour scheme. Opening the doors to let in a bright sparkly 2017 and letting out tired old 2016 and a whole lot of paint fumes. Yes we’ll be paying more rent, but it won’t break the bank.

Now this will inevitably result in complications over the festering season, but complications and challenges are a piece of store bought Christmas cake with fondant icing on top. At least to us.

First complication is new furniture arriving tomorrow with Mrs S due to disappear for the weekend while I deal with the first practicalities. I’m a bloke, so this is my part of the ship. With Mrs S out of the way I can begin packing without interruption. All I need is enough packing tape as we already have boxes galore flat packed and ready for action. No doubt it’ll keep me out of trouble until she arrives back on Sunday. Another complication will be youngest arriving on the 20th of December for a week or so, but I have a cunning plan to have the majority of non-essentials packed and good to go long before then. After which she has decided she wants to stay with sister-in-law mid island. As far as decor is concerned, we can cover any gaps with tinsel and decorations until move out time. This may put me to some minor inconvenience, but what the hell, I’ve probably coped with worse. The decorations will have to come down a few days before 12th Night, but that’s no biggie. Rather reminds me of our first ever move within BC. That happened at New Year as well. Which I did with minimal help. Again from a small suite to a much bigger apartment. When we moved to Victoria in June 2014, we were downsizing. Now we need more space so we can work better.

Regarding the refused reference; no, we haven’t trashed the apartment. Even before packing it’s probably cleaner than when we first moved in, and I’m stone cold certain it will be abso-fucking-lutely sparkling when we move out. Because that’s what we do. You know why our landlady actually refused? Because we’re good tenants and she doesn’t want us to leave. Seriously. Which in an odd sort of way is rather sweet.

Funny old business, life.

Apartment hunting

Mister Sticker, your mission, should you choose to accept it is to find a new apartment with three bedrooms and a den in a specific area of Greater Victoria. Off you go my son. That was a year ago. I think we’ve found a new place on the other side of Langford, subject to acceptance of references. More space. Better view (Sea and Mountains!), and a little further out from downtown. Not that we’re downtown all that often. Barely three times a month now. Unless we have visitors.

Tomorrow we find out whether all the people who have said nice things about Mrs S and I have done the trick. Because despite this blogs frequent irascibility and sarcasm, we’re pretty decent people who just like people to be businesslike and efficient. No fuss, no bother. Just getting on with our lives. Because we’re both pretty average. Mostly. If not, then at least I hope we’re setting an example. What of I’m not sure, but what the hell, we’re doing what we do and that’s our choice.

The new place, if we get it, will give us two proper sized offices where we can vent a bit without impinging on each other’s concentration. There’s a walk in wardrobe or two and a proper garage for our vehicles plus a spare bedroom and a spare double space on the bed couch. My only beef is the decor, which is in serious need of a repaint because previous tenants colour choices have been, now let’s be charitable here, a little eccentric. Bright green and yellow, with one room purple with beige doors were cited to us by our possible new landlord. Even now the main bedroom is in dire need of two coats of white emulsion, as is the kitchen. The current colour scheme is a sort of pastel vomit green. As colours go it’s one of those ‘last one in the showroom’ tints, which has got to go.

One note of sadness for the day; Anna Raccoon has closed her blog. This time (it is said) for the very last time. Anna has been fighting cancer with a vim and verve one can only wonder at. The Raccoon Arms was a host to some particularly fine, whimsical, well researched and above all amusing writing. Now trying to link to the site, like with Counting Cats, throws up a ‘database error’. Which means the blog has been wiped, or is otherwise inaccessible. I will take them off the sidebar after New Year if there is no sign of a return. Guys, if you’re still breathing and have time to drop by, remember that your courage, integrity and skill with words has always been viewed (at least by me) with nothing but admiration. Ave atque vale.

Update. Anna has made one last post which will be available here as a Parish Notice. On January 30 2017, the blog is primed to disappear.

Vices in mundo and we must turn with it.

Somethings burning…

…And I think it’s my candle at both ends. Failing that or I’ve got psychic jet lag, or should that be that I’m out of phase with my astral plane? At present I’m up at all hours of the night, from 3:30ish onward, which is 11:30am UK time. No idea why, but I seem to have developed a prescient early warning system that tells me when there’s something challenging going on across the pond.

The early hours went like this; wake up feeling totally wired and with all my brain cells buzzing. Go into office, which is out of earshot of our bedroom. Switch on ‘pooter. Check email. Sure enough there’s an ‘urgent’, highest priority panic now item squatting in my inbox like a squashed frog. Bugger. What have they got their panties in a bunch over this bloody time? Reply to email. That takes half an hour. Fidget. Play a game of Spider Solitaire. Forty five more minutes and Bong! Another response to my carefully worded missive. Reply with clarification. Well, there’s forty five minutes of my life I’m not getting back. Oh Jesus H Christ on a frigging Bike! Can’t people read? Am I teaching a sodding TESOL class? Notify lawyers. They respond in real time. At least they’re awake and on the ball. Remind others that if they had taken my advice two whole years ago we wouldn’t be having these issues. Still, can’t be helped. Make tea. Watch a little YouTube. Another hour and a half rolls by with the email chain growing ever longer until finally it’s 9am Pacific, 5pm across the pond and everyone stops wasting my bloody time and decides to shut up shop for the day. Hopefully that will close the door on this particular conversation. Oh well, it saves having to drag the whole sorry business over into tomorrow. I’ve gotten an answer, not quite the one I wanted, but close enough, and despite the insomnia, sometimes that’s all you need.

Sod it. Is it only 9am? Set up percolator, make and consume a pint of hot black coffee. Feel like I’ve been hit by a truck and I’ve got two critical meetings this afternoon. They say tax shouldn’t be taxing, but getting your finances just right so as not to overpay can be a headache. Protect the capital, manage the expenditure. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. Find several day old news item on economic suicide note as announced by the Trudeau boy. Carbon taxes. Wealth redistribution. Yeah, redistributed out of my pocket into some politicians boondoggle. Good luck with that because it’s not going to happen. I have recruited a decent team of advisers over this side of the world. British expats all and they’re pretty lean, mean and keen.

References off to potential new landlord. Decision meeting on Wednesday. Bloody hell is it only 10am? Try to sleep for an hour. No good, I’m too wired. Shower, shave, dress smartly, check notes. I lose an hour somewhere along the line and Mrs S is telling me it’s time to get moving. Come 2pm local time we’ve signed on the dotted and all our local money has been secured before the next tranche arrives and we get to discuss how to maximise our investment yields. In conversation I remark to my finance guy; “I’ve learned two major lessons over the past two years. Trust nobody, and make sure your insurance is good.”
“I’ll have to remember that one.” He replies. Mrs S smiles. She remembers Paris. As do I. Must do it again some time when all the shouting has died down. This time without the untimely injuries.

Now it’s 6pm and I know I’ll pay for missing half a nights sleep this time tomorrow. I’ve got a scan in the afternoon, and my ‘bloods’ will be all over the place. Which may not be such a bad thing if it makes me look more unwell than I actually feel. Might bump me up the long, long waiting list.

This is weird. Why don’t I feel tired?

A blue collar revolution

We live in interesting times, with Brexit tottering towards March 2017, when despite all legal challenges, article 50 will be triggered. Before that happens a Trump Tornado, propelled by a blue collar vote of the ignored and disenfranchised, will sweep across the world, giving hope to those who thought that no matter who you voted for, that the government always gets in. It will no longer be enough to vote the party line just because it’s what your position in life dictates. People will be forced to get off the couch and make their voices heard above the noise of vicious minorities who think they know better than everyone else. They will also have a greater opportunity to bypass the media gatekeepers because despite best efforts of said gatekeepers, real, unfiltered information has been made available. The dam is breached. The castle wall down, and the defenders are swarming out only to find out that they do not occupy the high ground. The globalist weapon-words of ‘sexist’, ‘racist’, ‘misogynist’ and ‘Islamophobe’ have lost their edge, dulled through over use. Not that they were any more than scary shadow-swords, powerless against human resolve and a little truth.

On the personal front there’s been a lot of ‘hurry up and wait’ over the past few months and I’m like a hunter sitting quietly in the pre-dawn light waiting for the sun to rise. For rise it will. Despite the threats to shut down dissent, both physical and political, the world is turning as it always has, and no one can make it spin any more quickly or slowly. Ding Dong the Clinton is gone, and the coming dawn promises a new kind of world peace. A querulous, demanding cacophony of raised voices will herald the dawn chorus of its arrival, then once every throat gets sore from all the shouting, things will settle down. Especially when all the predicted doom and gloom fails to arrive.

On the negative side, a health issue has come catspaw to slow me down. Surgical intervention will be required, but is fairly minor and won’t interfere with any other plans. I hope. Scans and tests must be performed next week, and necessary medical indignities undergone. Nothing anywhere near the long running tragi-comedy that poor Anna has suffered over the last few years, but painful enough. Not a showstopper, but not very pleasant either. We are all flesh, with all the frailties thereof. My tribulations are mere inconvenience, nothing more.

What else? There’s a new bed and furniture coming next week. Stuff has to be lifted and shifted. We’ve got rid of a few things to make room for the new kit, rooms have to be rearranged and repurposed which means muscle work. I have purchased a new electric screwdriver for assembly, as most furniture over here seems to come flat packed.

We’re also looking at a new apartment over the weekend, a little bigger so we can accommodate guests more readily. Not quite so close to downtown, but then neither of us commutes anyway. It’s like our old place mid-island. A little out on the fringes, but that’s where we seem to belong. Then there’s chunks of money to be shifted to take advantage of tax rules. Pensions to be deferred. Papers to be signed and research to be done. Then I have to pick my next college course to shoehorn in between now and our big European adventure starting in May.

We’re ramping up into a busier time in all sorts of ways. The sense of just marking time that has dulled my edge over the last year will be a rapidly fading memory by Christmas. I’m actually looking forward to it. Then I’m also thinking of getting an Amazon Prime subscription so I can download The Grand Tour.

And what of this new blue collar revolution that is sweeping the world? I think, overall, that it will be a good thing. We shall see.

A climate of hope?

Back in 2008, when Obama was selected as US Presidential Candidate in the 2008 Democratic primaries, he made a speech containing remarks about the planet healing and halting sea level rise now he was the candidate anointed by whatever. Which was patent bollocks and can be justifiably ranked as one of the top hundred political lies of the 21st Century. And that’s up against some pretty stiff competition, like the Bush and Blair excuses for the 2nd Iraq war, and just about everything said by Hilary Clinton.

Now US President-elect Trump is laying out his environmental agenda, news is filtering out of COP22 that some delegates are worried about their man made climate change gravy train grinding to a well-deserved halt. If as Trump has said, that the USA will withdraw from all the UN climate agreements because they were imposed by several notorious Congress-bypassing Executive Orders, defunding their 3 Billion USD contribution pledge.

Which may have a knock on effect north of the 49th Parallel and elsewhere. Trudeau has pledged CAD$2,650,000,000, which at current exchange rates comes out at USD$1,954,565,614.50. On top of our CAD$5,800,000,000 (USD$4,277,917,194.00) spend for 2015. Which is a big slice of a shrinking economy. The UK? Let me try to put all that on a level playing field from the published figures of contributions to the main climate funds.
USA: USD$3 Bn GBP2.4 Bn CAD$4 Bn
UK: UDS$4.8 Bn GBP3.9 Bn CAD$6.56Bn
Canada: USD$1.96 GBP 1.57 CAD$ 2,65Bn

Worldwide contributions to the International Climate Fund currently stand at USD$30 Bn out of a pledge of USD$40 Bn (Source Here) with ‘approved’ funds equalling USD$17.5 Bn. That’s a heck of a big cake for the troughers to feast off, travel First and Business Class, stay in five star hotels, get paid massive speaking fees, publish endless garbage ‘science’ articles based on statistical models and upwards adjusted data. No wonder they’re worried. It does not take an Everest scale intellect to see that if only one of these three contributors gives the UN climate change scamsters the finger, say if as seems likely the USA decides to pull out, the Climate troughers will have to take a sizeable pay cut, and horror of horrors, travel Economy on their own dollar and maybe stay in a lower cost accommodation. No more motorcades, and delegates poncing around their conferences in top of the line SUV’s like armoured Range Rover Sentinels (Like the Ranger spotted 52 Seconds into the video below).

All to ‘prevent’ a probably inevitable (And natural) uptick in average global temperatures. Or downslide, because new facts and figures are coming in which point to a cooling global climate driven by a ‘double heartbeat‘ of the sun.

The CO2 based models may say one thing, but if the climate steadfastly refuses to be driven by CO2s, why are we in the west spending money on something we manifestly can’t control? Especially on data derived from models that Airfix could do better?

The climate will change. That much is certain. However, throwing tax money at endless international conferences won’t change a thing. The best thing Trump can do is cut all the subsidies and aid packages. Which won’t please the Carbon Traders or the builders of wind turbine blight. But then those people will have to find honest ways of making a living. Like investing in clean nuclear power (Fusion would be nice, but Thorium would do), ‘clean’ coal (Fluidised bed technology and stack scrubbers) and better hydro-electric schemes.

This is going to be fun. Have just decided to buy my popcorn wholesale.

Out and about

Downtown Victoria Thursday had a strange vibe to it. I was waiting to be served in one store, and heard one guy rambling on about how much he hated the new US President-elect. How racist and misogynist Trump was, and how nuclear war was just around the corner. Seriously, this guy was absolutely frothing at the mouth. For half a second I thought he was going to take a pop at me, a total stranger, simply because I fall into the demographic profile of those being blamed for the Trump victory. Over fifty, male, Caucasian. Apparently to some we are the new Emmanuel Goldsteins.

So I applied the rule I learned long ago and looked away as if the meeting of hostile eyes was nothing, because there’s no more worthless activity than trying to have a reasonable discussion with anyone while their emotions are running that high. I mean I was pissed off with Trudeau getting elected Prime Minister, because his policies and the idiotic Carbon tax look like sending Canada’s economy even further into the tank, but then I’m not childish enough to go around looking for a fight just because things don’t go entirely my way. I’ll just keep my distance and make my own plans. Pick up, move on, adapt and if I have to, improvise.

Then I took a casual look at the CNN feed on one of the TV’s scattered about the place, and heard similar language coming from a talking head about what they thought Trump was going to be like. Talk about selective reporting.

Frankly what the pundits were saying didn’t gel with any of the speeches I’ve actually heard Trump making. The TV coverage was all opinions about opinions, half truths and projection, yet the guy I heard mouthing off in the store was taking this lamestream garbage as gospel. When Trump talked about dealing with the US immigration issues, and deporting the illegals, the talking heads were translating it as all immigrants, illegal or not. Which is a lie. When they talked about a worsening of international relations, Trump was talking about removing American interference and making other nations pay for their own military interventions. He most certainly wasn’t talking about shooting down Russian aircraft over Syria or actively promoting or engaging in ‘regime change’. Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gadaffi may not have been people you’d like to invite to dinner, but they kept the lid on highly unstable areas.

These media folk have an agenda so obvious that it might as well be posted in letters ten feet high. Which is why they’ve been blowing their credibility faster than a thousand dollar call girl. The pieces of the jigsaw are all out there for anyone who cares to look. No wonder the Trump camp are calling these hacks ‘Presstitutes’. Lazy cut and paste Fark and Churnalism have been delivering nothing more than a sugar coated ball of poison via TV and news media. And it is poisonous, because you only have to look at the results. Anger at total strangers like me just because of their skin colour and age? And this is Canada for heavens sake!

Which begs the question, is the once trusted ‘profession’ of Journalism dead? The guys over at Rebel Media say that it may well be.

Me, I’ll go with my late father’s advice; “Don’t trust everything you read in the papers.”

Winter is coming

Took a look out of our rear window yesterday morning and an early light frost had just started to melt off the carport roof and the tarmac tiles off the bungalow next door. “Is that snow?” Asked Mrs S, indicating the hills to the north of Sooke. I grimaced because there is a not quite denuded Poplar tree in the way, but was forced to conclude that yes, it did indeed look like there were bands of snow over a couple of the hills in that direction. Which is odd this far south. We don’t normally see anything roughly approximately resembling snow until at least the turn of the year. In the mid-island yes. The odd flurry is no big deal but doesn’t normally give anyone grief until late January. It actually took my 20×50 binoculars to determine that what looked like bands of snow was actually dazzling low angled sunlight reflecting off the new housing around Bear Mountain.

As far as Summer goes, it’s been warm but a little truncated here in Victoria, with the expected run on of warmth and sunshine that normally lasts until early October replaced with chilly showers from early September onwards. I’m told it’s actually worse where we used to live. An elderly friend has repeatedly complained that she’s seen more rain than usual. Sis in law is so fed up with the near constant drizzle that she’s seriously contemplating a move south. Other friends have come back from Guatemala and all points south, so we’ll be swapping tales of derring don’t with them over a curry on Friday. See what they say.

Oh yes, and the Yanks had something called an election Tuesday night. A Globalist vs Nationalist grudge match with the political Establishment and most of the lamestream media in one corner, and a billionaire businessman turned politician and a whole bunch of disenfranchised blue collar types in the other. Quick note to the propaganda arm of the Democrat party, latterly known as the mainstream media; you don’t win people over by insulting their intelligence. Which should translate as; you may have been to college, but that doesn’t mean that those who didn’t are thick. If certain commentators were really as intelligent as they claim, they would understand that true intelligence takes many forms, not merely the academic.

The stock markets, as they are wont to do when the narrative fails, initially tried to throw dolly out of the pram but then bounced back. But I’ve come to expect this kind of behaviour, and if you’ve the nerve for it there’s a great deal of money to be made by going against what the lamestream media tell you. Wish I’d had the capital in play to go short on the US dollar for the predictable market panics over the last couple of days, but it was not to be.

Will Trumps victory change anything? Well, the big money was behind Clinton but on the whole the grass roots weren’t. Which will give a yet another well-deserved upset to the apple cart of Establishment politics. But then again, that’s what all the anti-Clintonites were upset about. The same shit different day of endless wars, foreign influence, divisiveness, political correctness and large parts of the populace feeling dismissed as of no value. Not to mention the attempt to create political dynasties. As an aside, I wonder if all those foreign contributors to the Clinton Foundation are already asking for their money back? Who knows?

So, the Ancien Regime of globalism is down, but not out. A Winter is coming, and we should be prepared for a tough ride for the next year or so. However, I console myself that no matter how rough it gets, the Winter we will have to endure will not be of the nuclear variety. As would have been likely had the crazed Clinton implemented her insane ‘No Fly zone’ over Syria. I was watching Vlad Putin’s reaction to the news of Trumps election, and despite his affected public calm, looked very relieved.

Me, I shall be planning for the worst, but hoping for better. The 2017 Europe trip is still very much on, and I have a few more financial tools in the box to make things happen.

What the hell?

There are particularly unpleasant accusations beginning to emerge dahn sarf of satanic abuse of children by members of the Clinton camps inner circle. Frankly there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to believe what I’m seeing and hearing. It’s like the worst imaginings of a sick mind.

InfoWars are going totally apeshit over the emerging story.

So what do we know for certain?

The NYPD are investigating and have found some pretty damning evidence on sex offender Anthony Weiner’s laptop. What this evidence is, is not clear. However, the rumour mill says that it’s pretty damaging.

A child trafficker was freed early at the instigation of the Clintons.

An email refers to ‘spirit cooking‘ which is not satanic, but a pretty revolting Artists ritual derived from the work of one Marina Abramovic in 1996. My first thought is that if this is art I’d rather be considered a barbarian. Painting crude graffiti with pigs’ blood or bodily fluids? Yuk.

However, Clinton ally Jeffrey Epstein has been convicted in the USA with procurement of young girls for under age sex parties. He is also known to be connected with other high level Democrats and has invited other politicians to his private island in the Caribbean on multiple occasions.

All of the above appear connected via the Podesta emails and those found on Weiner’s laptop. According to the latest tranche of Wikileaked emails

So what’s the innuendo?

That words in a few messages are code words for paedophiles? Mmm. Not convinced.

Children were used as ‘entertainment’ at a hot tub party? Bit of a reach unless there’s some corroboration.

Yes’ yes. I know there’s a lot of smoke being blown, but there’s far too much of it for there not to be a fire. Where that fire is, and how hot it’s burning are themes for another day. It’s late and I need to sleep. We’ll find out if these allegations are true over the weekend. All that matters is the evidence.

Conspiracy theory? No idea. More popcorn ordered. Night all.

Racism

I read this comment by Tom Paine on his blog, echoed on White Sun of the Desert about how the political left likes to demonise all those (Even mildly so) to the political right of them by throwing out violent scatological accusations of ‘ism’ or ‘phobia’. Now I’ve overheard some of these soi-disant ‘anti-racists’ talk in private, and had quite a few “WTF!” moments when hearing them speak ‘off the record’ after a couple of beers about stuff that doesn’t fit their stated narrative. For example, there’s no one more antisemitic than a left winger. Even some of the more rabid extreme right wingers I’ve known over the years would be shocked if they heard some of the leftist anti-Jew rhetoric. Now from Project Veritas (see below) comes this video evidence of some quite extreme anti-black language. This originates from the side of the political spectrum you understand that tries to tar the rest of Western society with the epithet ‘Racist’ at the mildest disagreement.

This should not be considered atypical, but typical behaviour. The ‘do as I say, not as I do’ philosophy of politics. Straight from the mouths of the unprincipled, who will say and do anything to get into power, because power and influence are how they make their money. By trading favours for funding via a tangled web of shell corporations, NGO’s and ‘charitable’ foundations.

Of course all those Republican Pastors and Preachers interviewed in the video (according to the extreme leftists, most of whom are whiter than I am) are just a bunch of ‘Uncle Toms’ who just aren’t really ‘black’ enough. Regardless of genetic heritage. I wholeheartedly support the Pastors outrage. If someone I thought was on ‘my’ side was talking about me behind my back in this fashion, I’d be pretty pissed off as well, and justifiably so. No-one likes to realise that the person you thought was a friend was knifing you in the back all along.

Yet will there be any prosecutions for ‘Hate speech’? Don’t be silly, the laws banning such lewd mouthings aren’t for those progressive types who consider themselves ‘our betters’ (Derisive snort). Such legislation will only ever be used to cudgel those guilty of less major infractions of ‘wrongspeak’ who don’t hold the correct ‘progressive’ political views. Twas ever thus. Now there, to me at least, lies the real racism.

Let’s hear three sarcastic cheers for the political left! Hip-hip hypocrisy!

A quick note about the ‘People’s Challenge’ campaign that raised money to challenge Brexit in the recent successful High Court action. It looks Kosher, with 4918 contributors raising a little over GBP170,000. Which works out at a smidge over GBP35.50 per contributor. However, this is an interesting development in that crowdfunding may be used to raise money to challenge any UK Government decision via the High Court. Intriguing. Sauce for the goose indeed.

I have mixed feelings. Constitutionally and economically, I would like to see the UK out of the EU’s stranglehold a.s.a.p. Unless by some absolute miracle the EU turns into a free trade zone without the bureaucracy. However, this judgement has just sent the value of the pound upwards, which is good if you are like me, looking to get a good currency transfer rate to Euros or Canadian Dollars. That said, if Brexit fails, my money will be heading out of Sterling at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light. I suspect I will not be the only one.

Locally, people who recognise my accent keep asking me about Brexit, and is it all about ‘racism’? My stock reply is that it’s more an escape from a strangulating bureaucracy and that the word bomb of ‘racism’ is being tossed about just to stop people discussing the real issues. Like sovereignty, control of borders, excessive contributions, control of economy and making independent trade agreements that would directly benefit the UK. Stuff that would benefit the average working stiff, not just what is good for the political elites.

Health issue

No, not me. Although I’m looking for a decent massage therapist locally with tough enough thumbs to give my lower back pressure points a good workout. Eldest has settled in at her new job after only a few days in the fabled land of Oz, with another, more remunerative one on the horizon. She’s fine, as is Youngest, who’s a bit overworked because she’s too good at her job, but will be getting pampered to bits when she arrives here for the Christmas Holiday. Mrs S is complaining about my snoring, but that’s about all on the home front.

Meanwhile I’ve just bought in a bulk order of popcorn over the developing news of Hilary Clinton’s ill health, not to mention the campaign meltdown of yet another batch of potentially incriminating emails. No, Hilary love, it’s not a vast, ‘right wing conspiracy’, it’s just that anyone with a functioning intelligence knows you’re bent as a nine bob note. Selling influence to big corporations and overseas donors for inflated ‘speaking fees’. Keeping a private email server and handling classified documents on an insecure system, even though the rules specifically forbid it. Even for a Secretary of State in the United States of America. Then there are all the money laundering and embezzlement allegations over the Clinton Foundation. It may well be high time the USA started to think about electing a woman for President, just not a Clinton. And a not very well Clinton at that.

Now. Having worked in and around hospitals for a few years during which time I undertook some formal medical training, like serving time working in A&E (Emergency), Operating theatre, caring for mentally and physically disabled children and working on stroke, cardiac and cancer wards. Obviously my training is all a bit old hat now, but I can still read an X-ray fairly well and although I’m not qualified to practice, wouldn’t stick a needle in the wrong bit of someone’s anatomy and hit anything vital if called upon to do so. I can tell a fit from a faint, and understand the basic principles of what’s going on with blood pressure and various other symptoms. I’m no doctor, but have a better than average knowledge of what ails the human frame than the general population, who to be charitable, couldn’t find their arse, heart, lungs, stomach or kidneys without a map.

So I thought I’d watch a few videos and say what I see as honestly as possible. Now Hilary Clinton is ill, that much is certain. Very unwell, and this is something that has been going on for some time. Not just a ’bout of pneumonia’. The duration and variability of the problem alone is indicative of a longer term issue. She is also definitely having seizures, not simple fainting fits. So the coughing fits are likely not down to infection alone. Some Cardio-pulmonary (the Double whammy, heart and lungs), involvement is likely considering that fluid has been observed when she coughs. However, ‘Pneumonia’ symptoms do not include her observed neurological symptoms like ‘fitting’ or ‘zoning out’. A simple faint very rarely involves any form of convulsion.

I’m also a little sceptical of the Parkinsons ‘diagnosis’ that some pundits have been bandying about. Two reasons. Watch the hands. No ‘pin rolling’, no visible tremor. Look at the posture. She has had mobility issues for several years, especially with stairs, but there’s no characteristic stoop or slouch. Parkinsons symptoms are usually pretty distinctive, and my own experience working with Parkinsons patients tells me that it’s something else.

So what have we got so far? Fainting, fitting, coughing, weakness, loss of balance, and ‘zoning out’. Fainting is caused by a lack of blood to the brain, often caused by low blood pressure. Fitting, the observed spasmodic movements following a ‘faint’ may even have a pharmacological rather than a simply physiological cause (Be a side effect of a drug regime). A cough is listed as a side effect of Ramipril (A drug used to reduce high blood pressure) Which might account for the quick turnarounds observed. I’ve also just found out what her temporary Strabismus might be a side effect of, which could be down to a similar drug to MDMA being used as a fast acting antidepressant. Throw ’em all together and what have you got? Fainting, fitting, coughing, weakness, loss of balance, and ‘zoning out’. Hmm.

So what is her actual base condition? Not sure. I’ve read all kinds of things bandied about like Binswangers, Guillain-Barré, but my money is on repeated TIA‘s (Transient Ischaemic Attack or Mini-strokes) being treated by large doses of anti-hypertensive (Blood pressure reduction) and anti clotting medication. Considering her known family history of stroke (Younger brother Hugh, both Mother and Father died of CVA’s), it’s the only diagnosis that makes any sense. Could be wrong I suppose, but if it has feathers and quacks, well, it’s probably a member of the genus Anatidae.

The other bet to make is that even if Hilary Clinton does somehow win the US Presidential election, which is looking increasingly unlikely considering the current tranche of scandals, her illness will prevent her being a very effective President. Knowing the state of modern medicine, it is possible with enough money and the right drugs it is possible to extend life considerably. Therefore some right wing hopes that she will end up dying before taking the oath of office in February are pretty long odds. However, the sickness and malaise such life extending pharmaceuticals inevitably bring with them may just make the recipient wonder what the hell she’s doing it for.