1/2 rations

I haven't posted anything here for a long time, and I wanted to stop in and tell you about my latest experiment.  Parkinson's disease is a trade off all the time. If you take enough medication to suppress all the symptoms you're left with side effects. Cut back on the medication and symptoms return.

The side effects of too much Sinemet (artificial dopamine, or L-dopa) taken with marijuana or not, is that you don't feel like yourself. Too much ganja creates problems of its own, mainly you're dopey &; kind of blissed out. Plus, something I'm taking == I don't know what -- has screwed up my immune system.

That's probably theSinemet too; I always look to the pharmaceuticals I'm taking to figure out why this or that bad thing is happening. I don't think the Turmeric is behind recent outbreaks I've had, although I suppose the B- or  D-vitamins I take might be implicated.

I simply don't know. But I can tell you, cutting your med in half is very interesting. You start showing symptoms,  and at this stage of the game, 7 yrs in, those are: I walk with a shuffling gait, there's mostly mumbling instead of speaking, and occasional drooling -- things which endear a 70 -yr old man to every buddy.

So you can either travel stealthily, medicating heavily at 3 hour intervals, and be somebody else (I   never did figre out who), or you can skip the meds and just be yourself, which scares folks out in public, as they really don't understand it.

However, after 2 days on half rations, I've decided this is the way to go.

©∂†ß0X3®

usa today

War, it will be seen, accomplishes the necessary destruction, but accomplishes it in a psychologically acceptable way. In principle it would be quite simple to waste the surplus labour of the world by building temples and pyramids, by digging holes and filling them up again, or even by producing vast quantities of goods and then setting fire to them. But this would provide only the economic and not the emotional basis for a hierarchical society. What is concerned here is not the morale of masses, whose attitude is unimportant so long as they are kept steadily at work, but the morale of the Party itself. Even the humblest Party member is expected to be competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation, and orgiastic triumph. In other words it is necessary that he should have the mentality appropriate to a state of war. 

--Emmanuel Goldstein; The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical  Collectivism

A Whispered Tale by Siegfried Sassoon

             S. Sassoon

I´d heard fool-heroes brag of where they´d been,

With stories of the glories that they’d seen. 

But you, good simple soldier, seasoned well 

In woods and posts and crater-lines of hell, 

Who dodge remembered ‘crumps’ with wry grimace,

Endured experience in your queer, kind face, 

Fatigues and vigils haunting nerve-strained eyes, 

And both your brothers killed to make you wise; 

You had no babbling phrases; what you said 

Was like a message from the maimed and dead.

But memory brought the voice I knew, whose note 

Was muted when they shot you in the throat; 

And still you whisper of the war, and find 

Sour jokes for all those horrors left behind.

(World War I began on this date 100 years ago. The poet Sassoon survived it.)

no newt

/ NONTRNET

...but I must write...it´s the only way I can keep my disordered cognition from flying apart like a Model T doing 90.

¨Cognitive disorder¨ you say? Yes, but not the way you think. At this stage of the illness one´s cognition gets sloppy, runs over, gets all over everything, like a mocoso with an ice cream.

CRS on steroids is all it is, really. The light is still on, and there´s somebody home, but the bulb  flickers quite a bit.

It´s like listening to a radio which half the time is clear as a crystal bell, and the other half the time is nothing but static.

 It may sound horrible, but it´s not that bad. It´s not like having a kidney stone, or an inflammation of  the big nerve in your leg, whatever the fookinelle it´s called -- I´ve actually had it, but the name escapes me at the moment.

It´s just like that. All the damn time.

So its not as bad as a lot of other things I could name and a few things I´ve had. it´s not painful, it isn't dementia, at least not yet, and it doesn´t get in your way, except when you´re trying to remember the name of the biggest nerve in the human body. Hey, that´s it! Fookinitis!

1 hr. later I remember, & had to look it up. Siatica. Lookin it up took a while without no nternet.

Sciatica. Had to look it up, and I forgot NoNternet.