Monthly Archives: December 2015



In the spring of 1966, during the second semester of my august presence inside HomeStateU, having been parentally excoriated for wasting their contribution of $1K and bringing home only a 1.5  GPA for the first semester and thus the announcement that I would have to provide my own educational funding, I signed up for a Student Union meeting with a slick-talking representative of the  Southwestern Corporation who intimated I could acquire magnanimous sums of money if I agreed to harness my hopes to their program. 

The Southwestern Company was based in Nashville, TN and sold Bibles, but this chap was from their dictionary division and offered up — but not for complete inspection — their encyclopedic edition of Webster’s New World Dictionary, complete with study aids. [Witholding the opportunty to hold and inspect the product promotes purchase, I soon learned.]

The deal was that I had to get myself to Nashville, where they would put me up room-and-board in a week-long training program, after which I would be assigned my very own territory somewhere out in the Midwest. 

I’d never set foot beyond the Appalachian chain, save for a five-day out-and-back to Niagra Falls during after I was hospitalized with a fever of unknown origin, so “the Midwest” held promise.  The Southwestern Corporation would even ease the travel component by hooking me up with someone else they’d recruited from HomeSTateU and promising that our assigned territories would be close by if not contiguous.  The other chap had an old beat-up Ford, so we were good to go. 

Just after I’d signed the papers of commitment, the female parental unit suggested that it could be easily arranged for me to spend the summer in Brussels with a family known to my father, he the British-born sales executive with Alcoa transferred to their European office and the father of a winsome blonde with whom I’d gone to school in grades 8 and 9, now having graduated from some upper crust female boarding school in England and posessing the keys and rights to the family Mercedes-Benz. 

But the bit had been set in my mouth and the papers signed, so I said ‘no’ to Brussels and yes to Southwestern, and going door-to-door in some yet-to-be-determined location. 

We slept in a large old downtown hotel that had been rented and turned into a dormitory and attended class in a building three doors away where we learned more about the product, more about organizing and managing the business end of sales, how to scout out a neighborhood, find a cheap place to live for a few weeks, et alia, and a lot about psychological sales tricks useful in getting beyond the first and second adamant refusals at the door, making the target comfortable in her own home (the target almost always being the mother of kids in grades 4-8 who would benefit from the surplus of study aids packed into the enclyclopedic dictionary), and how to get her into an affirming mood (maneuver her into a rocking chair if possible, on the theory that it is physiologically unsettling to turn your head side to side to say no while you are rocking in a motion that mimics the affirmative nod of the head). 

With a clap of the hands we were off. The duo from Massachusetts had beeen assigned to Iowa. We loaded up the boxes of dictionaries we’d bought on consignment and our limited wardrobes (we were advised to wear clothing of a curious but clean and presentable nature, like starched polka-dotted dress shirts). Into the car and on the road, we navigated our way out of Nashville, past Clarksville, Tennessee where we spotted the last train, and down into the valley where we’d cross the Mighty.  Needing gas, the two wet-behind-the-ears white boys from the East got off just before the bridge and went looking for a gas station in East St. Louis. 

Our next stop was Cedar Rapids, The group sales meetings were to be held in Cedar Falls and my territory was originally Marshalltown. Have you ever been to Iowa?  It’s flat. And hot.  And so the walking door-to-door with an order pad and a copy of a four-inch thick dictionary…  “Good morning, mam, I’d…” … because tedious and tortuous.

The largest employer in the town was a meat packing company and so the smell of pigs was omnipresent. Outside the town, there was corn. And more corn.  I found a basement apartment and registered with the local Chamber of Commerce, and ate two Sandy Burgers a day. The first sales meeting was Sunday (attendance mandatory). ‘Howdja do, boy?’ ‘Sold one.’ ‘Sposed to have sold fourteen of ‘em by now.’

The second week showed no seriously-improved results. I’d been re-assigned to Waterloo. I stopped into a radio station where I inquired of a nice gentleman how one went about getting a career in radio and TV and, while he would not hire me even to sweep the floors, he did encourage me. At the end of the second week, when I’d sold an additional five (but nowhere near enough to make living expenses, let alone save for college), I quit, packed up my books and my clothes and put them on a Trailways bus to home, went out to the Interstate, and stuck out my thumb. Even the president of the company admitted that that selling books door-to-door is “incredibly hard, frustrating work”.

I considered briefly heading west to ‘Frisco and the summer of love but headed east instead; I skirted below Chicago in a 16-wheeler, spend the night in some fleabag motel with a 25-cents-per-ride vibrating mattress, and hopped a bunch of rides into, through and around Youngstown, Ohio where I had a late-night adventure warning off a sexual predator. I grabbed another semi heading across New York State into Albany. Albany was, comparatively speaking, a hop away from my home town where, it is true, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. 

And then they ship you off to Dad in Boston, sleeping in his studio apartment behind the Mass. General, where I was given a job filing down the sharp zinc points off the I-beams at a foundry in Everett and I could spend evenings hanging out at the drugstore on Cambridge Street where I could occasionally hear a few bars of Ray Manzarek. I saved up enough money to pay the bill for the next two semesters, not foreseeing that I’d spend most of the fourth semester in the infirmary with mononucleosis, or wrap up the year doing a round-the-clock radio marathon to raise money for the Jimmy Fund. Come on, baby, light my fire. 

In the end, my clothing never arrived but a box of the dictionaries did, and so all my nieces and nephews got one, and I gave many of them away to other adolescent kids. I kept mine.  I still have it.


“For that group, the book of books was Davidson’s History of Education. William James called its author a ‘knight-errant of the intellectual life,’ an ‘exuberant polymath.’ . . . Its purpose was to dignify a newly self-conscious profession called Education. Its argument, a heady distillation of conclusions from Social Darwinism, claimed that modern education was a cosmic force leading mankind to full realization of itself.”

— John Taylor Gatto, Underground History of American Education

Not knowing is the hardest part. There is something in the human brain—mine at any rate—that can’t let go of an unsolved mystery, especially when it pertains directly to the organism’s survival. Of course, it’s not (as far as I know) a matter of survival for me to solve this mystery now; but it may have once been exactly that, or perhaps the reverse. It may have been a question of personal survival not to see, identify, or talk about this mystery. Even this of course is speculative. All I know for sure is that I am driven to sift through all this information (to the point that the muscles in my shoulders are becoming painfully tight), arrange it into some sort of coherent order, and present it to others, to the world, in the hope that it will make a case for something. The trouble is, I am not sure for what.

In The Evening Standard report from 27th May, 1994, regarding the Islington care home child abuse, Stewart Payne and Eileen Fairweather wrote that, “For years a group of gay social work academics were able to abuse young boys with terrifying ease shielded—unwittingly—by colleagues who didn’t dare challenge their views on child-sexuality for fear of appearing anti-liberal.” They described Scotland Yard’s Obscene Publications Squad as “investigating a network of gay intellectuals who are believed to have run child sex rings for decades through schools and children’s homes.”

When I was growing up, I was not exactly surrounded by gay intellectuals, but they were certainly around, and I was suffused in the sort of liberalism that would have been afraid to challenge pro-pedophilia views—at least if they were coming from respected peers within the cultural community. Maybe this would have even extended to the point of shielding abuse. Certainly, it is not at all hard for me to believe; but again, it does not prove that any abuse happened, much less that members of my family were involved.

One of the things I concluded about my brother Sebastian Horsley’s carefully crafted public persona as a dandy, drug user, and sexual libertine, was that it was an elaborately disguised cry for help—that he had been engineered through trauma to become the clothes-Horsley that he was, and that his every insistence on being his own man was an unconscious cry from the soul of the very opposite truth, that he had been colonized internally by a malign force. This piece is neither disguised nor unconscious as a cry for help; and yet it’s perhaps equally irrational, since I neither expect help to come nor believe that I need it from anywhere or anyone outside of me. That time has long passed. Even so, some of the individuals who could have intervened on my behalf as a child are still alive, and they are implicated, some directly, in this investigation. But the main participants—those who were either most responsible or who could most effectively have intervened, or both—my grandfather, my father, my brother, are all dead. They are, or were, also the principal carriers of the Fabian legacy which I have inherited, being the firstborns of the firstborn; and since they are gone, I am now the only surviving son of the firstborn son of Alec Horsley. The buck stops here.



Making It’s Way Around the Internet E-mail Chains

A girl asks her boyfriend to come over Friday night to meet, and have a dinner with her parents. 

Since this is such a big event, the girl announces to her boyfriend that after dinner, she would like to go out and make love for the first time. 

The boy is ecstatic, but he has never had sex before, so he takes a trip to the pharmacist to get some condoms.. He tells the pharmacist it’s his first time and the pharmacist helps the boy for about an hour. He tells the boy everything there is to know about condoms and sex. 

At the register, the pharmacist asks the boy how many condoms he’d like to buy, a 3-pack, 10-pack, or family pack.  The boy insists on the family pack because he thinks he will be rather busy, it being his first time and all. 

That night, the boy shows up at the girl’s parents house and meets his girlfriend at the door. 

“Oh, I’m so excited for you to meet my parents, come on in!” 

The boy goes inside and is taken to the dinner table where the girl’s parents are seated. 

The boy quickly offers to say grace and bows his head. A minute passes, and the boy is still deep in prayer, with his head down. 

10 minutes pass, and still no movement from the boy. 

Finally, after 20 minutes with his head down, the girlfriend leans over and whispers to the boyfriend, ‘I had no idea you were this religious.…’ 

The boy turns, and whispers back, 

‘I had no idea your father was a pharmacist.’

abundance and suffering

abundance and suffering

If you have tarried for more than a few minutes in front of any television this holiday season, you probably have seen at least one of those info-mercials for a non-profit charity promising to save the children, or the animals…. to feed the suffering starving toddlers of the third world.  

I suppose there is a valid reason for the timing: only a few days remain before someone can make a commitment that they can deduct from their taxes next year.  The non-profits understand the cycle. 

Indubitably, there is a hidden play on one’s holiday guilt, whether from a religion perspective or simply that of an over-abundance of abundance.

I do not make light of the suffering. I do think it’s at least humorous, and probably outrageous, that they broadcast an appeal to the masses by targeting us one individual at a time with those big brown eyes, a well-chosen song, and an appeal by a well-known celebrity. Doing good is a wonderful thing, but doing goodness at this level is meaningless in face of the realities of third world oppression; the rape of resources on multiple continents; the rampant trafficking in children, slaves, and armaments; and war. 

In this sense, the most outrageous appeal may be the one offered up by UNICEF. The United Nations is only two months younger than I am (and I’m retired and disabled, on Medicare) and, setting aside the confirmble fact that the UN was founded with the help of the early ‘new world order’ folks like Mary Pinchot Meyer and her husband Cord, the UN hasn’t made much headway in preventing World War III.  Suppressing it, perhaps, below the threshold (thus far) of open global warfare by the creation  of lots of little proxy wars (see Sir B.H. Liddell-Hart’s book “Strategy” ) which generate waves of disease, poverty, and humanitarian need. but more than one pundit suggests it will break into open nuclear conflagration sometime soon and another pundit suggests that the elite secretly hold lotteries about these kinds of things. 

Given the well-documented pyramid of wealth in which the top 8.7% own 89% of all global wealth and half of us are below or near the poverty line in First World terms, why are they asking you and I for two quarters a day? 

Even the stingiest of tithes from the extremely wealthy would provide manifold amounts. 

Why not ask those who have profited form Ponzi schemes, stock market and commodities manipulation and fraud, or attach a surcharge to their fines and penaltiies when they are convicted?

But more importantly, why aren’t we stopping poverty and disease and malnutrition at the source?  I think you already know the answer. 

The extremely wealthy have an elite sense of exceptionalism which vests itself in eugenics, racism, “reason”, atheism, agnosticism and a form of social apartheid that is visible everywhere.

These are the same people who increase their wealth by investing in colonial wars, war-making machinery, robotics, artificial intelligence, and trans-humanism, and are avidly Malthusiastic for some form of radical violent de-population.


Christmas Eve celebrations were over.  The toddlers and their presents were gone with their parents, the wrapping paper and boxes all bagged and put into the trash receptacle, the leftovers, the dishes done. As Christmas Day itself drew to a close, I went looking for a good travelogue. I scrolled down through eight pages of YouTube before I found something of interest, and then I watched it.  I found the three-hour BBC Channel Four program, first aired in 2007, to be of exceptional value. 

In a year in which ISIS is in the news, the Clash of Civilizations a meme created for and taken advantage of the Zionists, politicians refer to Christians as “vampires and blood suckers” and other politicians debate immigration policies referencing Muslims, I found the story of Ibn Battuta to be thoroughly refreshing. 

Follow along.  It covers most of the places in the news today, and its peoples speak through history and the eyes of both a 14th century Muslim scholar and a 21st century British, Yemen-based, Oxford-educated Arabist. 

Set on autoplay for parts II & III

Published on Feb 27, 2014

Series of documentary travelogues in which Tim Mackintosh Smith follows in the footsteps of 14th Century Moroccan scholar Ibn Battutah, who covered 75,000 miles, 40 countries and three continents in a 30-year odyssey. Beginning in north Africa, Tim visits Battutah’s birthplace of Tangier in Morocco, and stumbles on a performance of medieval trance music. In Egypt, he goes to a remote village where Battutah had an astonishing prophetic dream and visits the world’s oldest university in Cairo.

In Turkey, Tim watches an illegal whirling dervish ceremony, and in the Taurus mountains he meets the last of the Turkoman nomads. He chats to Tatars in Crimea, while in Delhi he watches a Muslim magician performing the Indian rope trick.

He explores the place of Islam in Hindu-dominated India and communist China, and tells the story of the Islamic trade empire of the 14th century. In China, he meets a clan who trace their ancestry back to Arabs, and witnesses an illegal Arabic lesson. Episodes included: Wanderlust, Magicians and Mystic, and Trade Winds.




Antii in Helsinki says “I’d like to find the process how to recognise the bias and the deception in public communications and perhaps to even come up with several how-to’s and instructions that would help myself and others.” 

I stumbled across Antii when I discovered he’d written about another subject of interest, and I discovered a treasure chest for those of us on the Internet who are interested in those same kinds of things.  I don’t know, and it’s not quickly obvious, what if any socio-politico-cultural biases Antii and these collectibles have, so I’ll proceed and I’ll offer them up on face value and let you decide for yourself. [There’s a list of ten books for skeptics below if that helps.]



Bellingcat is a member of First Draft, a coalition of experts sharing top tips and training in how to handle eyewitness media. Follow here  and on Twitter for more updates, advice guides and case studies.


If you are interested in security (computer and other), you should check out the CRYPTO-GRAM newsletter by Bruce Schneier. It is free, delivered to your inbox if you so wish and has a metric ton of well-sourced, well-written high-quality stuff every month. It debunks security-myths, takes a closer look on different approaches to security and their intended and unintended consequences and much more.

Continue reading

“CRYPTO-GRAM newsletter by Bruce Schneier”




In an earlier article titled “The Art of Bullshit” I attempted to list the most common methods of dishonest communication, often used by the propagandists to persuade the public. In that same piece I mentioned different biases such as one-sided selection of stories and the great Confirmation Bias from which no-one is completely safe.

Now I’d like to look a little deeper in to the news media bias and most importantly, start a new list, sort of how-to for evaluating the news source one is reading, or a to-do of what steps to take to recognise the bias or intentional dishonesty if there is any.

Continue reading

“How to know if a news source is fair and balanced?”


Two of the ten books noted on Scott Gavura’s 

Ten Books for Skeptics 

On Being Certain  From neurologist Robert A. Burton, this book makes a convincing argument that “certainty” is a mental sensation, and not evidence of fact. In fact, Burton argues that the feeling of certainty is actually independent of active reasoning. Certainty, he concludes, is not biologically possible: science is the tool we must use to evaluate data. An enjoyable but challenging read. For a more detailed review, see Jeff Orchard’s previous post.

Thinking, Fast and Slow – This 2011 book from Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman is a dive into cognitive science and human behavior that will change the way you think about thinking. It covers some of the same work of Dan Gardner’s Risk (#6, above) but focuses more on reasoning patterns. An exploration and explanation of cognitive biases, Kahenaman’s book has been widely and deservedly acclaimed. The book will also serve to caution the skeptic of overconfidence in our own evaluations of the evidence. We are not good at spotting our own errors. So be skeptical, but be humble. For more, see this extended review in the New York Times.



Authored by leading journalists from the BBC, Storyful, ABC, Digital First Media and other verification experts, the Verification Handbook is a groundbreaking new resource for journalists and aid providers. It provides the tools, techniques and step-by-step guidelines for how to deal with user-generated content (UGC) during emergencies.

You’ll find it here:




[&&]{**}[##]*yhi6R13ubEdEvVJ6VcoINw.png the-importance-of-the-eyewitness-in-real-time-news-coverage 



Imagine the following. You’re out in the street and stumble across a demonstration. Instinctively, you delve into your pocket and pull out your phone. You start filming. The demonstration gets out of hand. Suddenly, you get arrested. Would you know how to protect the footage on your phone so it can be used later? Would you know how to hide that footage so it can’t get you into more trouble?  Some might. Most don’t. 


“My experience working at the intersection of journalism and communities is that people are hungry for tools and strategies to better identify trustworthy news and information and how to sort through the flood of info they face, especially around crisis, disasters and controversial issues in their communities. […]

In crisis moments, when the facts are a matter of life and death, we should be glad to have more boots on the ground, and we should lead by example and then engage our communities to help us shine a spotlight on the truth.” 






The days of journalism as a one-way conversation are over. 


le pain maudit

Le Pain Maudit

a continuation of

In his 2009 book, A Terrible Mistake, journalist Hank P. Albarelli Jr alleges that the Special Operations Division of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) tested the use of LSD on the population of Pont-Saint-Esprit [  44°15′27″N 4°38′57″E] as part of its MKNAOMI chemical behavior program in a field test dubbed Project SPAN. According to Albarelli, the ergot contamination explanation has been challenged and “ruled out”.[13][10]

Albarelli wrote that the ergot explanation was based upon the findings of biochemists dispatched to the scene from the nearby Sandoz Chemical Company (now Novartis), based in Basel, Switzerland”[14]

Albarelli alleges that even the project name is a veiled reference, because “pont” is French for “bridge.”[13] Albarelli cites numerous declassified U.S. documents—some of which directly mention Pont-Saint-Esprit.[13][10]

According to Albarelli, ergot poisoning was a cover story. Referencing declassified documents, he writes:

“…biochemists [were] dispatched to the scene from the nearby Sandoz Chemical Company in Basle, Switzerland. Included in the contingent from Sandoz was Dr. Albert Hofmann, the man who had first synthesized LSD on November 16, 1938. At the time…only a handful of scientists worldwide, estimated to be no more than eight-to-ten, knew of the existence of the man-made drug LSD. …[and] virtually nobody in France in 1951, apart from a select few officials at Sandoz Chemical, was aware that the company was secretly working closely with the CIA .”[14] 


Doctors suggest ergot poisoning from tainted bread

After the collective insanity and hallucinations came to an end, doctors sought answers for what had caused the mass outbreak. It was assumed that bread from a local vendor, the Roch Briand bakery where many of the victims had eaten prior to the event, had been unwittingly poisoned with a parasitic psychedelic fungus/mold – ergot, a hallucinogenic mold that had been known to naturally contaminate rye grain. This was first proposed by local physician Dr Gabbaï in the highly respected British Medical Journal.

Gabbai’s findings were confirmed by Dr. Albert Hofmann, an ergot expert who first synthesized LSD-25 from ergot in 1938.  Dr. Hofmann travelled to Pont-Saint-Esprit to examine the evidence and was quick to confirm Gabbai’s ergot theory (years later Hofmann reversed his stance and rejected the ergot connection). At the time, Hofmann was employed by Sandoz Laboratories, a pharmaceutical company whose name would come up time and time again during later investigations into the true cause of the mysterious hallucinogenic event.

The ergot poisoning theory is questioned

The theory that the sickness resulted from an outbreak of ergotism however, was not blindly accepted by everyone. For one, the theory failed to take into account that ergot poisoning was believed to have died out completely during the 18th century. Furthermore, academics were quick to point out that the symptoms displayed by the Pont Saint Esprit villagers did not quite match the symptoms expected from ergot poisoning and besides, wouldn’t the high heat from a baker’s oven have snuffed out the ergot mold in the first place?  Even the judge responsible for the official inquiry into the villager deaths questioned the ergot theory. He suggested a criminal connection and oddly, hinted to contamination by a very toxic form of “synthetic ergot”.

For decades the ergot poisoning theory was widely accepted, despite pleas from many scientists and academics to consider other alternative answers. In 2008, American historian Steven Kaplan sought those answers.  Kaplan, a professor at Cornell University and expert on the history of bread, examined all the possible explanations for the cursed bread: ergotism, infected water or contamination by fungicides or other toxins. None, he concluded in his 1,000-page tome Le Pain Maudit, published in 2008, could adequately explain the events of Pont-Saint-Esprit in the summer of 1951. Kaplan’s findings triggered a chain of events that would soon lead to a very interesting, and disturbing, conclusion.

The suspicious death of Frank Olson

A year after Kaplan published his findings that contradicted the widely accepted ergot poisoning theory, investigative journalist H.P. Albarelli Jr., broke the news that the outbreak resulted from a covert experiment directed by the CIA and the US Army’s Special Operations Division (SOD). Albarelli based his conclusion on secret CIA documents that he uncovered while investigating the suspicious death of Frank Olson, a biological weapons researcher working for the Sandoz Pharmaceutical Company, the company which, at the time, was supplying the CIA and Army with a new chemical drug – LSD. Olson had “fallen” from the tenth-floor hotel room, which he had been sharing with CIA agent Robert Lashbrook at the Hotel Pennsylvania. His death took place two years after the Pont Saint Esprit incident – and only one week after being “asked”, and refusing, to leave the top-secret biological weapons program at Sandoz.  His death was ruled a suicide.

The “smoking gun” in Albarelli’s investigation was a White House document sent to members of the Rockefeller Commission, which had been formed in 1975 to investigate CIA abuses. The document contained the names of a number of French nationals who had been secretly employed by the CIA and oddly out of context, made direct reference to the “Pont Saint Esprit incident”. ….” 





CIA: What Really Happened in the quiet French village of Pont-Saint-Esprit

by Hank P. Albarelli Jr. 


“… Ells goes all healthy and environmentally responsible in a very public way in 2015, and suddenly his delicious, nutritious food is poisoning hundreds of innocent customers.  WTF?  Chipotle’s reputation went virtually untarnished until Steve Ells’ anti-GMO announcement, and now the only thing you can count on if you eat Chipotle’s healthy Mexican food is that you’ll soon be experiencing diarrhea, abdominal pain, nausea, and vomiting, if not death.  The only unknown factor is whether you’ll be inflicted with E. coli., salmonella, or norovirus.  More than 200 unexplainable outbreaks of various kinds of food poisoning in at least ten states, and the corporate media has been over-emphasizing the culinary disaster for weeks on end.  Nightly.  Fear and loathing in High Definition.  Chipotle…Chipotle…Chipotle!  Beware.

Admittedly I haven’t personally investigated the possibility that a giant food conglomerate or agro-chemical corporation might have had their hands in this dirty business, and don’t intend to.  All we have here is a boatload of circumstantial evidence.  Conspiracy theory, if you will.  Follow the money, boys and girls.  Who stands to win if Chipotle goes broke?  Who’s been celebrating the last couple months while Chipotle stock tanked by 200 or so points?  I don’t know whether Dick Cheney is heavily invested in Monsanto, but I’d guess he’s not the one directly responsible for this particular assassination.  All I know is that if I wanted to take down the tree-huggers at Chipotle, I’d hire a dozen desperate guys, plant them as employees, have them slip some slimy, filthy shit into the food, and let nature take its course.  Follow the money.  Follow the money.  These coincidences are just too ridiculous to be true…. If I were him, I’d have an investigative team taking a hard look at all employees working at every location where food poisoning has been reported.  Focusing on, but not limited to, new employees.  I can just about guarantee that when the polygraph test results are in, he’ll find more than a few traitors among his fold.  Exactly who these turncoats work for will likely be determined.

Agro-chemical corporations are a huge deal.  We’re talking potentially trillions of dollars here.  A billion is chump change to those who seek to control the food sources of all mankind.  Monsanto, Bayer, Syngenta, BASF, Dow, DuPont, Nufarm, Makhteshim, Sumitomo, and Arysta together control 89% of the global agro-chemical market.  Steve Ells should have all ten of these corporate monsters in his lineup of suspects.  Add to this the nation’s top ten major animal torturers/meat producers, and I’ll guarantee that Steve will find at least one corporate crook with E. Coli, norovirus, salmonella, and blood on his hands..” 

to cause disease

to cause disease 

“… Chipotle referred to the summer outbreaks as “a small number of isolated and unrelated incidents — in terms of geography and incident,” in an e-mail to The Post from spokesman Chris Arnold.

“There really wasn’t a pattern,” he added. “Since all of this began, we have completed a comprehensive reassessment of all of our food safety and handling practices … and we have begun implementing that program.”

On Thursday, Ells apologized to Chipotle customers on NBC’s “Today” and promised the chain “would be the safest place to eat” but made no mention of the company’s extensive rap sheet.”

[Note that the market watchers are in such a hurry to get out the meme that Chipotle has been making people sick for months that they can’t even take the time to spell the company name correctly.]


[N.B.: I hold no position on Chipotle. I own no stock. I have never eaten there. 

I was impressed by Nate Appleman’s competitive aikido-style approach to winning the Chopped All-Stars competition, wrote to him, and contributed to the Kawasaki Disease Foundation.]


Oh, and fresh this morning: 

“… Before suspending the Seattle restaurant’s permit, health inspectors found several ingredients, including chicken, brown rice, shredded beef, cooked beef and fajita vegetables, were not hot enough. It was its third critical violation in 12 months.

“An inspector found that some hot food on the fax line (which is a back of house make line that services online orders), was not being held to proper temperatures. We are investigating the cause of that and will address it,” Chipotle spokesman Chris Arnold said in an email.”


 Does this have anything to do with the Chipotle mess? 


Earlier in the week, on my news blog, I said:

 “The recent rash of E. coli outbreaks at numerous Chipotle Mexican Grill restaurants … should be seen through the lenses of history, most notably the event at the Taco Time salad bar in The Dalles, Washington, and the epidemiology of biowarfare. The acts of the Rajneeshpurnam cult are widely written up (your search engine will find numerous examples) and the source is said by multiple investigators and journalists to be linked to the CIA.

Chipotle execs have begun to engage in some measures, however weak [since strengthened considerably], in crisis management [a serious sub-set of business management ever since the Chicago Tylenol murders]; the extent of their own or other epidemilogical investigation is unknown. But some consideration of the logistics and management of foodstuffs inside a national food chain should demonstrate the unlikelihood of a single disease vector affecting multiple sites over an extended period of time. All sites are company owned; none are franchises. Are we looking at a case of corporate sabotage by a competitor? Or is it a breakdown in the cold chain? Is it related to the company’s stances and practices regarding Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations, or Chipotle’s refusal to sign a Fair Food agreement? As was demonstrated repeatedly by test examples run by the US military and other Federal agencies, the delivery of sickening or debilitating substances to pockets of population for the purpose of creating chaos and terror can be done very easily. But I doubt such an effort would be singuarly focused on one company without some additional purpose.”

The above was not intended to suggest that either the CIA or the Rajneesh cult was responsible for the Chipotle incidents, merely that the demonstration of ease had been accomplished, a method of delivery devised, etc.  Far worse has been accomplished; consult H. P. Albarelli’s book “A Terrible Mistake”.   The CIA has much more than someone’s diarrhea to answer for. Much more has been written and published about biowarfare experimentation on the American people.  Remember that I am well-read in the fields of  agro-terror, epidemiology/vectors/fomites/tracing, et alia. There is a closet sub-industry looking into “chemtrails”. There is a second sub-industry involved in documenting “American Gladio”. I’ve noted Estulin’s book “Tavistock” on social engineering. There are other sources regarding the introduction of stressors and dis-ease into the population. Vomiting and diarrhea and the interruption of life’s routines, employment (for those who still have it), and a degradation of one’s general sense of well-being are easily accomplished by the purposeful introduction of a simple virus cooked up in a lab.


After decades of effort, scientists have figured out the dirty little secret to growing a common stomach bug in the lab.

Bacteria found in feces help the diarrhea-causing, vomit-triggering norovirus infect human cells in plastic dishes, researchers report in the Nov. 7 Science.

“It’s a huge breakthrough for the field,” says immunologist Melissa Herbst-Kralovetz of the University of Arizona College of Medicine in Phoenix. Adding these bacteria along with the virus to human cells could finally give researchers a good way to test antiviral drugs and disinfectants, she says.

Norovirus, a nasty microbe perhaps best known for wreaking intestinal havoc on cruise ship passengers, strikes about 20 million people in the United States per year. Healthy people typically conquer the infection within a few days, but the virus can be deadly for young children and older adults.

More (but to read more requires you to subscribe): 


School of Medicine scientists have become the first to successfully grow a norovirus in the lab.

In humans, noroviruses are a highly contagious source of diarrhea, vomiting and other stomach ailments that made headlines two years ago after a series of repeated outbreaks on cruise ships. These viruses are a major cause of human disease worldwide.

Researchers showed that the mouse norovirus MNV-1 could be grown inside cells from mice with defective immune systems. Their findings make it much easier to learn about the mouse virus and may help other researchers seeking to duplicate the accomplishment with human forms of the virus.

In a study published in November in the online journal Public Library of Science-Biology, scientists who developed the new technique reported it may already have led them to a good target for vaccine development.

“By looking at the mouse virus we’d grown in the lab, we were able to identify a part of the capsid, the virus’ protein shell, that is essential to its ability to cause disease,” said senior author Herbert W. “Skip” Virgin, M.D., Ph.D., professor of pathology and immunology and of molecular microbiology…..

More here: 


Again, the question then becomes this: “Why Chipotle?”.

Some deep investigation into the early stages of the formation and funding of Chipotle’s business enterprise, as well as a detailed breakdown for each incident as to who was present, may be required. 

Surely someone will consider some method of covert surveillance to discover who is doing what to which foodstuff when. 

There is a great degree of discussion right now about ‘shootings’ and the response one might use some form of violence took place.  Setting aside the debate about firearms for the moment, perhaps the focus ought to be put on increasing personal vigilance and situational awareness.

The next time you and some friends and/or family go out to eat, take an extra 30 minutes to write down what each of you observed about the food service environment, the people involved, and the degree of trust you have (and must have) when you allow someone else to prepare your dinner. 

In the end, all of these issues involve self-responsibility and shared responsibility.


In related food service news:

Poor migrant workers and children are being sold to factories in Thailand and forced to peel shrimp that ends up in global supply chains, including those of Wal-Mart and Red Lobster, the world’s largest retailer and the world’s largest seafood restaurant chain, an Associated Press investigation found.

At the Gig Peeling Factory, nearly 100 Burmese laborers were trapped, most working for almost nothing. They spent 16 hours a day with their aching hands in ice water, ripping the guts, heads, tails and shells off shrimp. One girl was so tiny she had to stand on a stool to reach the peeling table. Some workers had been there for months, even years. Always, someone was watching.

More here: 

[Ed.: Full disclosure: I once worked as a waiter for several shifts at Red Lobster.  I also once passed the required Massachusetts food safety preparation hygeiene course. I wash my hands frequently. I keep hand sanitizer handy.]



If Death Is As Delicious As Sleep


If death is as delicious as sleep, it’ll be fun.

Restful, packed with dreams,

Resolving Old Turmoils, 

Remembering forgotten moments….


If death is as difficult as sleep, it’ll be 

Fat with Tossing and Turning, 

Ambivalence and Agony,

Processing those difficultes

Of Social and Spiritual Life.


If death is as domineering as sleep, it’ll be

Filled with Chances to Apologize to All the People 

who Met an Untimely Death at the Hands of Those 

Whose Evil Power I could Not Manage to Overcome but 

Who Laughed and Invited Me 

to their Bad Karma fundraiser 

(“We’re Stocking Up — Like Stacking Wood for the Long, Harsh Winter — so That in Some Future Lifetime They’ll Be Reduced to Charcoal”)


If death is as refreshing as sleep. it’ll be

Filled with Wish Lists and Wondrousness

About the Possibilities of Next time,

of What Might Be When Dawn Comes Again.



Apparently I communicated during my hospitalization eight years ago with a number of people while I hovered near death.   

As the cardiothoracic surgeon in that TV show “Proof” says, 

“being dead is a kind of grey area.  

Something or someone notified my sponsoring doctor — the one who first made identified the problem via “Skype” —when she was out on the street and who drove immediately to the hospital — the one where she worked — even before they called her to come in  —when I flat-lined in the interventional cardiology lab.  

But maybe that was her act of remote viewing.

I “told” my wife — who was 800 miles away — from inside the OR during the second procedure— , they’d returned me to sew up the leaking artery they’d left during the first procedure —,  that I’d be alright. (I would be, just as soon as I rehabbed from the ischemic motor stroke caused by the dislodged arterial plaque.)

There were other people who claimed to have heard from me while I was in the post-surgical coma, one of them a virtual friend in California.  

It was the same fellow my “pants” called months later when I sat down in such a way so as to trigger the “contacts” page, scroll down to his listing near the bottom of the alphabet, and then navigate the menu three more simple steps. 

I didn’t know I’d called him until he responded to the blank message it had left on his answering machine.  When I checked my own phone for evidence of calls placed, there it was. 

“Hello?  Is there anybody out there?” 

“…we are within an energy sea which owes its origin to a divine process. 

Is humanity a happenstance biosuit, a social animal walking on the surface of the planet without meaning, being pulled by a wide variety of conscious and unconscious demands of life? ….”



Three hours of delta wave deep sleep binaural beats and isochronic tones by Brainwave Hub