Care for a side of monkey kidney with your vaccine?

‘Tis the season. Flu season, that is. To vaccinate or not to vaccinate?  That is the question. Let’s have a little chat about it.

Those who know me know that I am mostly opposed to vaccinating. This isn’t to say that I am against all vaccines. It’s a much bigger conversation than simply “for or against” them. But that can-o-worms conversation is for another time.

Because our state “mandates” certain vaccines for children, I had to basically jump through hoops to have my high school daughter exempted from the mandatory meningitis vaccine. When looking up the vaccine, I found a list of ingredients for many common vaccines.

Do you know what is in the vaccines you get for yourself and your children? Do you know what the culture media is? Do you even know what a culture media is?

There are several different flu vaccines, so the culture media depends on which vaccine you opt for. Most are chicken embryo. Yeah. A whole different kind of scrambled eggs. What about chicken kidney or canine kidney? Lots of you have dogs. Or you just plain love animals. Maybe you’re vegetarian or even vegan. How does that strike you? Are you excited to learn that some vaccines contain tissues from aborted fetuses?

Other potential ingredients:

  • formaldehyde (yes, embalming fluid)
  • hydrolyzed porcine gelatin (know what porcine is? Pig.)
  • thimerosal (mercury) (although methylmercury is toxic to the central and peripheral nervous systems, the toxicity of ethylmercury derived from thimerosal (which is what is in vaccines) is not well studied… So if it hasn’t been well-studied, why would I agree to have it injected into my body? And if it really isn’t harmful, then why is there a thimerosal-free version?? Why aren’t all versions free of mercury?? Oh, wait. None really are mercury-free:

“The FDA changed the rules so vaccine manufacturers do not have to include thimerosal on the label as an ingredient unless it is used as a preservative. According to the FDA, if thimerosal is used in the manufacturing process but it is not used as a preservative, the vaccine can be labeled “thimerosal-free” when that is not the case. You can read more about this semantic trickery and what it really means for your child here.” (

And no, I don’t get any kickbacks or affiliate incentives for sending you to that link. It’s just important stuff.

  • aluminum hydroxide. Manufacturers of certain deodorants and baking powders proudly advertise their ingredients as aluminum-free because there is a known and scientifically proven correlation between aluminum and Alzheimer’s disease. So why would I have myself injected with it? It doesn’t easily leave the body. It can accumulate and stay there, wreaking havoc for years, possibly forever. It crosses the blood-brain barrier and fucks with your brain. Ask me. I know.
  • monosodium glutamate – Yes, MSG. The additive you probably try to avoid at restaurants and in processed packaged foods (like ramen). Would you give your “informed consent” to be injected with it? Not me.

Guess what’s in the Japanese encephalitis vaccine? Mouse brain. Another vaccine has monkey kidney. Think I’m kidding or just using scare tactics? Look it up on the manufacturer’s websites. You’ll have to dig because they don’t make it easy for you to find the information. For good reason.

I urge you to educate yourself about vaccines in general. Don’t take your doctor’s word that it’s “perfectly safe.” Most doctors don’t know the true risks, which are alarming. Doctors are brainwashed trained during medical school and are led to believe that all  vaccines are the best action against the diseases for which they are manufactured. But what they are not taught is that for many people, vaccines can cause great harm, including death.

Ask for the package insert BEFORE you get any vaccine and go home to do your own research so that you have plenty of time to read and absorb what you’re about to give your “informed consent” for. Because if you do proceed with a vaccine and, heaven forbid, suffer injury as a result, guess what? You can’t sue. Nope. Congress passed a law to protect manufacturers from lawsuit. No lie.

The National Childhood Vaccine Injury Act (NCVIA) of 1986 (42 U.S.C. §§ 300aa-1 to 300aa-34) was signed into law by President Ronald Reagan as part of a larger health bill on Nov 14, 1986, in the United States, to reduce the potential financial liability of vaccine makers due to vaccine injury claims. The legislation was aimed at ensuring a stable market supply, and to provide cost-effective arbitration for vaccine injury claims. Under the NCVIA, the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program (NVICP) was created to provide a federal no-fault system for compensating vaccine-related injuries or death by establishing a claim procedure involving the United States Court of Federal Claims and special masters.

Pretty special, isn’t it? After reading more, maybe you won’t actually go back for the vaccine.

Personally, I would rather have the flu than be injected with known toxins, poisons, chemicals, human and animal tissue, and other cancer-causing agents. If you have a healthy diet, a strong immune system, and stealth avoidance techniques, it’s possible that you don’t need to worry about contracting the flu. And even if you do get the flu, it’s a hell of a lot better than the potential consequence.

Think about it logically and investigate. Don’t take my word for it. Don’t take anyone’s word for it. But by the same token, don’t just disregard what I’m telling you because you think I’m a crackpot. Yes, I am a crackpot. But this is a critical subject and the information I learned has been truly life-changing.

Consider watching the first episode of the video series The Truth About Vaccines. Nope again. I don’t get any kickbacks or affiliate incentives for that link either. This was just a huge eye-opener and I think it contains important information for everyone to learn from – particularly parents. And particularly particularly parents with children who were perfectly healthy before they were vaccinated.

You may or may not believe or want to read or hear more about this. Even so, I ask that you share the information with loved ones and friends because many people have no idea what lurks behind that needle and may like to learn more. This was my case two years ago when I got the Tdap booster that caused an avalanche of health issues. I would have welcomed information about the possible side-effects and the negative long-term consequences of that vaccination.

Please don’t make the choice for someone else whether they get the information. Everyone makes their own decision to read, watch, or listen, but they can’t make any choice at all if they aren’t even offered the information.

Okay, I’m stepping down off the soap box now.

And in case you’re wondering? The Tdap vaccine I received contained aluminum and was manufactured by Sanofi Pasteur, the company that is currently under fire for its dengue vaccine.


Yes, I know, I’m a little slow on the draw. Halloween has come and gone, and in fact Thanksgiving has now come and gone as well. Christmas is just three weeks away. (Eek!) I’ve been a slacker about dumping my Halloween story out of my brain and finally got around to it. Better late than never, as they say.

I didn’t plan to be at home this Halloween, so I didn’t bother buying candy for the neighborhood munchkins. Besides, we don’t typically get a lot of trick-or-treaters, so even when I have purchased candy in the past, all that sugar and fat usually ends up getting eaten by me. I’m sure you’ve been there… We usually don’t get (m)any trick-or-treaters, but I’d better get some candy *just in case.*

Well, this year my brain didn’t ever have a “just in case” moment because I was “certain” I wouldn’t be at home. So of course I found myself at home “by accident” right at the time of trick-or-treating. But still, I was sure we wouldn’t have any chilluns knocking at our door. It was cold, windy, and a bit rainy, so I didn’t run out to the local Walgreen’s to grab up armfuls of Snickers, Kit Kats, and peanut M&Ms (cuz, you know, if they didn’t come, I’d wanna have my favorites within arm’s reach) like I did last year.

Just about the time I finished my fist-pump, thinking I was in the clear and had made it almost to the end of the designated trick-or-treating fanfare of the year, there came a loud knock. Crap. Maybe if I’m quiet they’ll go away. Yeah, I know. That’s rude. But I didn’t have any candy, so. Louder knock. Lights were on, so somebody’s home, right? I slid into the kitchen and flung open the cabinet door to see what I could come up with. Jackpot. I grabbed the bin and quickly made my way to the door.

An adorable little fairy and her slightly older brother, Luke Skywalker, stood before me, eyes fixed on the box of treasure I clutched to my chest. They repeated for the umpteenth time the catch-phrase of the day. I heard “Trick-or-Eat!!” It was crystal clear and I obliged. I put a would-be hot, hearty meal in a cello-sealed bag into each of their grubby little paws: ramen. Luke was off his game and didn’t pay attention. He said his “thank you,” turned on his boot heel and marched down the steps to his parents, who stood shivering in the cold. Tinkerbell, on the other hand, sassy even at a mere 3’ish years old, best I could guess anyway, inspected the package, turning it over in her hand. The only resemblance to a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup was that the package was orange. Her eyes lifted without moving her head, looking up at me from under her brow. Clearly unimpressed, her expression said it all: Are you fucking kidding me, lady? “You’re welcome,” I said, and closed the door. Of course she didn’t actually say that, but she obviously didn’t fully appreciate this random act of kindness.

I thought it was genius. Never mind that it wasn’t a premeditated “treat” – this was probably the best idea I ever had for Halloween. (Except for that time in high school when two friends and I went to school dressed as prostitutes. Or the time in college that my roommate and I thought it would awesome to carve out a watermelon and fill it with Everclear.)

Think about it. Kids get pounds of candy every year. It’s disgusting, really. Loads of sugar and fat, and for the sake of argument, I’m gonna say that most kids never eat all of the candy they collect. Oh sure, they hoard it and keep it from their siblings and parents because “it’s mine!!” But I don’t think any kid ever eats all of their Halloween candy. Let’s face it. No one wants to eat all of those Tootsie Rolls.

And at the end of the two-hour stint, what parent wants to go home and make dinner? Bam! Dinner is literally in the bag. But what about all the sodium and MSG?! you ask? Yes, well there’s that. While MSG is also disgusting, let’s weigh the pros and cons. Here’s this 10-pound bag of sugar, corn syrup, fat, and god knows what else, then there’s this 3 ounce package of dried noodle food(ish) with a small serving of chemical-laden monosodium glutamate in a foil-sealed pouch. The reality is that that stuff is so potent, there’s probably less than a teaspoon of it. But still, it’s one lousy meal. (Granted, the emphasis is on “lousy.”) Now you tell me: which is more disgusting at that point in time when the parents are “done” with Halloween?

You may be wondering why I even have (had, actually, at this point, because I haven’t replenished the meager supply) ramen in my cabinet, because I am the very first to admit that it is a disgusting food-ish product and is laden with chemicals, grossness, and poor nutrition. Here is why: 1) For the very reason I described above – it’s an emergency provision. 2) It’s one godawful meal in a sea of many, many good, nutritious meals and ain’t nobody gonna die from one package of ramen. 3) That shit is cheap! 4) When all else fails and there’s nothing in the fridge and nothing else in Mama Hubbard’s cupboard, dinner can be had in 3 minutes. Three minutes, people. Hot ‘n ready. Besides, it’s some weird stand-by comfort food my daughter likes on occasion. Don’t ask me why, because I really do think it’s an unhealthy bag of dehydrated sponge with a side of sodium, and I don’t want (or let) her eat it on a regular basis, but once in a great while? Who cares? It’s one less meal I have to cook. Just like the night of Tom & Jerry, I just look the other way when she makes it.

Of course, there is no escaping that aroma…

Okay. Are you effing kidding me?

In an interview, singer Morrissey is quoted as saying, “It seems to me that Spacey has been attacked unnecessarily,” referring to recent sexual allegations against Kevin Spacey.

Morrissey claims the alleged victims knew exactly what was going on and chose to play along. Seriously? A 14-year-old knew what was going on and “chose” to “play along”? WTF is the matter with you? He wonders where the boy’s parents were and essentially says the kid knew when he went into the bedroom what would happen. Whether he did or didn’t isn’t even the point. It is ILLEGAL for a fucking 26-year-old to molest a 14-year-old. Period.

Morrissey goes on to basically say that Spacey (and Harvey Weinstein) are the victims here. Okay, whatever dude. You obviously live in a different kind of world than I do.

I have always loved Morrissey as an artist and musician. But this interview really makes me wonder what skeletons are in his closet.

A creature was stirring…

Last night as I walked through the dining room toward the kitchen, out of the corner of my eye I spied our cat Star staring underneath the cabinet. Ah, shit. This could only mean one thing: there’s a critter under there.

I grab the flashlight, a plastic glove, and a small box, anticipating what lies ahead. I put the cat in a bedroom and closed the door. All I needed was for her get ahold of it before I did. Back to the task at hand, I moved a box aside to reveal the furry beast. He didn’t seem to mind being discovered. I assumed at this point that he was either petrified or maimed from Star having had her way with the little nugget for a few minutes before he was able to limp off to safety. Not the case. By the time I bent down with the box at the ready, he was gone. Dammit.

Currently, my dining room is a makeshift workshop for various simultaneously ongoing DIY projects. The fur nugget could be hiding in any number of places: in my toolbox, in my “tool shed” (built-in cabinet where I keep a small cache of tools), an empty box (of which there are several), or even in the adjacent sun room. I looked all over and could not locate him. Crap. Literally. Under the dining room table was a small, petrified CAT TURD. Wtf. With my gloved hand, I picked it up and disposed of it. I tried not to think about how there was a piece of poop in our dining room long enough to dry out without us smelling it. How could that even be?? Seriously. Poop. In the dining room.

Then I did what any sane, logical person would do: I let the cat out of the bedroom and went to Walgreen’s for chocolate.

When I returned, Star’s gaze was fixed under a bookcase in the sun room. She was like a statue. Great. I turned my back on the situation to let nature take its course. In the back of my mind, I rallied for the mouse to make his escape to the great outdoors from where he’d come, hoping his life would be spared. I sat down at the computer, facing the opposite direction, replaying Tom & Jerry episodes in my head. Jerry always gets away.

Within minutes, I heard the “eek eek eek” of the nugget, quickly followed by the cat racing into another room. I quickly turned around in my chair. Nothing. Neither was in sight. Where the hell? No signs in the sun room, dining room, living room, or hallway. Oh God. Please not in the kitchen.

Yes. In the kitchen. I turned on the light to find Star peering under the stove. Double dammit. I took her back to the bedroom and locked her away. Pulled the stove out and sure enough, there was the little beast, huddled in the corner, either dead or playing opossum. He looked enormous. Even with all the racket of moving the oven out, he didn’t budge. Maybe he wasn’t dead and he was just hoping to be rescued. Never fear, little dude. I’m definitely nicer than the cat.

I grabbed a new plastic glove, the box, and a Ziploc baggie. I had the thought that it’s cold out and he’s about to have a rude awakening to the frosty outdoors, so I cut off a little piece of pumpkin bread and put it in the baggie, along with a napkin, which he could use for bedding after he wiped his paws from his snack.

I bent down and put the box over him. He still didn’t move, but I could tell that he wasn’t dead. He was probably grateful. I slid a piece of cardboard under the box then guided him into the baggie. Once he was in, I zippered it shut and took it in to show my daughter how cute he was. “You’re ridiculous. Get that thing out of here.” Well, how rude.

I inspected him to see if he had any obvious injuries – not that it would have made any difference because I certainly wasn’t keeping him as a pet. There didn’t appear to be any blood. Out into the cold we went. I put the baggie down by the smashed pumpkins under the maple tree and opened it up. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t come back.” I left him with his food and shelter and went back to the house.

Once inside, I scrubbed my hands, pushed the oven back, and went to bed. Peace and quiet.

This morning I went out to get the baggie and napkin out of the yard. My delicious pumpkin bread was still there. Ingrate.

Why “women of a certain age” should still wear makeup

I recently read an article proclaiming that women over 50 should go au naturel and ditch their makeup. Seriously? Clearly the author has never seen me “au naturel.” It ain’t pretty.

Of course the article featured photos of women who were beautiful without makeup. The truth of the matter is, though, that most of us who have worn makeup for years either aren’t More magazine cover material or we just feel better with makeup on – no matter what our age. Now I’m not saying you have to go all out Tammy Faye, but let’s be honest. If you’ve always worn makeup, the mere thought of going completely “nude,” which is pretty much what I would feel like if I went without makeup in public, can be downright horrifying.

Do you look like Gwyneth Paltrow? Go for it. Jennifer Aniston? Fine. Bitch. But the vast majority of us do not look like a walking beauty stick, so let’s be real here, people.

I can honestly say that even before it became “the thing” a few years ago, I started wearing less makeup – but I still don’t leave the house (for the most part) without some amount. And I sure as hell don’t go for a night out or even to work without my “new” basics. No one needs that jolt first thing in the morning when I walk through the office door.

There are all kinds of pointers, tips, guidelines, “rules,” and what have yous, about makeup for “mature women over 50.” (Let me take a moment right now for a little sidebar to address that phrase. That was in the title of an article. Some might read that and say mature=over 50, so why be redundant? Well, I take that statement as a personal disclaimer because as my mom pointed out just a few weeks ago, I’ve never grown up. So the makeup rules don’t count for me, and possibly you, regardless of the fact that I wouldn’t follow them anyway. And is 50 really considered that age of “maturity” that we all know they’re referring to? Whatever. All the way around.)

I’m not going to analyze whether to wear makeup. It makes no difference how I psychologize it or how anyone else pontificates about the whys and why nots. Here’s the thing. Women who wear makeup and who have always worn makeup usually do so either because they feel like they need to or because they like to. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. If you wear makeup, what do I care? If you don’t wear makeup? Still don’t care. And why do you care what I care anyway? Why do you care what anyone else cares?? Fuck ‘em. That’s my rating on the caring scale. Big fat zero.

Bottom line? Do whatever the hell you want to do. Au naturel. Bare minimum. Lip gloss and mascara. Tinted moisturizer. Tammy Faye. Though I do feel obliged to point out that that is a look that only one woman can pull off. Her name is Tammy Faye, people. And guess what? She’s dead.

If ditching your makeup is liberating, more power to ya. Just wait til you ditch your bra. And I don’t mean just the minute you walk in the door from work or running errands all day with that thing stranglin’ the girls. I mean For. Fucking. Ever. Now that, ladies, is real liberation.

Be you.

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