Just picked up The Nocturnal Table, Castle Xyntillan, and Khosura: King of the Wastelands from the post:

Gabor Lux is running is site-wide sale on everything he has published under EMDT imprint until July 20. Things are moving quickly so act fast. :)

#OSR #SW #OSRIC

If I could stay here, that would be great.

Am I bipolar? I've been struggling for months with negative energy and low self esteem. Even going as so far as starting a serotonin uptake inhibitor... but then after weeks of this, I wake up like a switch has been thrown and life is good again.

It's weird. And I never noticed this before. This change is drastic. Like, I feel like a different person.

Maybe it's time to see a therapist. I mean, I'm not complaining about this feeling of euphoria. It's GREAT. But, something tells me swings like this can't be good for you.

---

#confession #journal

So before I get balls deep into this post, I hope people can read this judgement free. I fully understand that people/couples are in all sorts of different stages during their relationships. The topic I’m about to cover is porn and how it has changed our relationship. I understand there is a lot of negative feelings when it comes to porn in America. I grew up thinking it was the Devil and a true sin. People have many different views when it comes to porn based on their own life experiences. This is just ours. When I was growing up, I was such a nosy kid. I wanted to know how much every bill was, I would search the house for hidden Christmas presents so naturally, I found my parents porn stash. As a teen, who spent too many years going to church, I didn’t understand truly what I was seeing. My abusive and narcissistic father made sure my sister and I didn’t understand anything. We were so naive and this worked perfectly for him. He was able to molest my sister without fear of being discovered and we never questioned anything. Questioning meant we weren’t faithful. We would just be a disappointment to Jesus and everything we represented. This was told to us by the same man who was molesting multiple children from 6 years on. To say I have a fucked up childhood is putting it very mildly. With this being my first foray into porn and anything sexual, it left me confused. I didn’t dare talk to anyone about what I saw. My dad had porn of men together, which super confused me, based on what I was taught at church. I never tried masturbating growing up and didn’t dare look at my changing body in any way that might mean I was actually a woman. My mind just didn’t go there because I didn’t know that I could. I was naive as fuck. So when I met my future husband, I was 18 and he was 23. When we first started dating, i had only been with 1 other guy, which was not a great experience for me. Technically it was consensual but in all fairness, I didn’t know what I was agreeing to. My husband had much more experience than me but had been working on getting over having his heart trampled on by multiple bitches. He stood up to said past boyfriend and made sure to protect me from him. This past guy wouldn’t stop calling or accept that I just didn’t want anything to do with him. I had given him blow jobs, which was something that I did fully understand and consent to, but we had only fucked once, in a really shitty hotel. He tried sending me money and pulling out all of the stops to stay but thankfully, my future husband talked to him when he called me for the last time and told him his time was up. I had moved on. I guess hearing it from another man really got the point through, finally. It’s really scary for me to go back and wonder the “what ifs” about that situation. What if I wanted to break things off and didn’t have a man to stand up to him and make sure he understood I meant no? Would I have just stayed and lived a miserable life with a guy who really didn’t give a fuck about me? I was just a check on a list for him and I’m just thankful my husband was there for me at the right time. When my husband and I met, I was instantly attracted to him. I’ve always preferred men that aren’t white. I had a white boyfriend and I absolutely hated it. Aside from kissing, I refused to let him do anything else. White guys just don’t do it for me. In my subconscious, I think they maybe reminded me of my father. My husband has beautiful deep olive skin that turns me the fuck on. Just a touch and I’m on fire for him. Our attraction was instant. Even though I had a really shitty first sex experience (that I would come to terms with years later), I wanted him. I craved his voice, his touch and I really wanted his cock. Within a few days, we were fucking. To most, this would seem incredibly soon but I didn’t care. Even at just 18, I knew he was “the one” for me. My friends thought I was fucking crazy and I didn’t give a fuck. Giving him orgasms, being fucked and then getting my first orgasm ever … I was fucking hooked in more ways than one. Not only did we have the sexual compatibility, but we also connected emotionally. We were engaged in two weeks. Six months later, we were married. Many people who hear our story think we’re nuts, and plenty of people told me I was making a mistake at the time. I didn’t care. This man was mine and I was his. We’ve now been married for 25 years. So FUCK all of the haters. Life is too short and you just have to do what works for you and brings your happiness. Of course we had some issues in the early years. We were not only learning how to live together, but I was also learning how to be an adult for the first time in my life. I no longer had this domineering male figure who told me what to do at all times. Honestly, I didn’t know who I was, aside from knowing I love this man with all of my heart. One of our first few challenges related to porn. As a single dude, of course he used porn. In many relationships, this is place of contention. Many guys hide it, many women freak out and together – no conversations happen. We easily fell into this pit. He would hide porn and I would feel not pretty enough or I would compare myself to the women in these videos. We would fuck and then a few hours later, I would catch him using porn. Now, I realize he has a high sex drive but at the time, it just felt super deceiving. Let it be said, I also didn’t foster a safe place for him to talk about it, let alone explore it together. We would have many fights over the years in regards to porn and sex. Most of the fights between couples tend to revolve around money and sex. With him having a much higher drive than me, I felt awful about myself, on top of learning that it was not only okay, but natural, to desire sex and want to please. These were all things that were extremely frowned upon or never talked about while I was growing up. I was so sexually immature. Even though he has more partners, he was immature when it came down to figuring out how to make relationships work during hard times, due to his tough childhood and the things he saw his parents do to each other. We continued to work on it together and found our rhythm when it came to sex and porn. Sometimes it didn’t bother me and other times I would be so angry. He harbored intense shame for watching and I super judged him for hiding it. It’s odd to say but only in the last 3 or so years ago did I really come around. There were times where I had zero sex drive and we would go a month only doing things together once or twice. This is absolutely torturous for someone with a high sex drive. ( Later on when my sex drive revved up and stayed incredibly high, I full understood this intense level of want.) I’m not sure what exactly switched inside of me but it just didn’t bother me. I saw porn for what it was , bodies fucking and these actors earning a paycheck. Was it exciting? Absolutely. Did I crave it? No. Did we use it together? Occasionally. How can you not get aroused by seeing what we were designed to do? Porn also sort of feels like something you aren’t allowed to see. Like you’re getting a secret, behind the scenes view of people’s intimate moments. Of course it’s fucking hot. Porn also offers something for everyone. It’s what it’s designed to do. When we started using it together, things really changed for us. We could both get turned on by what we saw, what we wanted to watch and it brought a new level to our relationship. It was no longer this taboo thing. Instead, it was something we chose to do together. At first, my husband was shy to show me what he was into when he searched, what turned him on and what I might think of the videos he chose. For me, it was exciting to see this “hidden” side that most people don’t get to see. Imagine sitting next to your spouse, just browsing porn together and trying not to feel nervous or judged. It’s not so easy, especially when you have a past with it that involved shame. Plus, there were past partners who said they were okay with porn who ultimately weren’t. For us, we use it whenever we want to. Recently, he was fucking me the hounds way and put the phone on my back and just ravaged me in the best of ways. My husband loves sound and visuals. For this, he had the visual but the sounds were turned down. Instead, he watched couples fucking and heard my moans. It was such a fucking turn on for both of us. We have had porn cast to our tv and we both watch it while he ruthlessly drives into me. I looooooove it. For me, it’s exciting to see what turns him on, for him to freely watch without fear and shame, and to just be us together. Does he have to ask me to watch it solo? Never. Do I require him to show me what he’s watched? Fuck no. We have this understanding that porn is just what it is. A bonus. Please, use it freely. For us, porn is an addition, not a hidden issue that causes fights. He still struggles with the instant fear but we’re working on it. Lifetime habits take time to break down. Although porn doesn’t bother me, it’s something I truly enjoy with him, I also understand he’s spent years before me hiding/feeling ashamed with other partners. Although I don’t carry a lot of baggage from past partners (because that’s a whole one person) but I realize he does. I’m patient enough to go at his speed with it. We’ve found ways to work on combating these past fears and changing them into a place of peace. I offer him a safe place to be judgement free. In return, we opened a next level of our sex life (and him being able to be free) and for us, it’s really fucking fun. The really cool part about porn is that you can literally search anything. If your likes change, there’s a new category for that. We get to explore things we might not have known existed or I have even picked up new techniques for blowjobs and sex that I’ve seen. (Reddit is also a great place to pick up new techniques. There is a subreddit for everything) Although I started off very naive to the world, relationships and everything sex related, I’m now a full time submissive cum slut who gets off on pleasing my husband multiple times a day. Because we are both free use, if we say we want something, we get it. There is no daily limit for the amount of times I’ll please him and it’s the same for me. He’s not shamed for masturbating either. Send me a picture or a video so I can get off on it. I think it’s hot as fuck to watch him please himself. Now that we both have insanely high sex drives, we love to wear each other out in all of the best ways. We are always ready to explore or try something new together. If my pussy is too sore from the night before, I always have my ass, my talented mouth or my hand. Fuck it, fuck my titties. Just let me have your cum. Either way, my man is going to stay drained, which keeps me full. (in more ways that one.) There won’t be a day I don’t crave his taste, his touch, his body or the way he drives me fucking wild. Somehow, twenty five years in, we fuck better than we did in our 20s and I’m totally here for it. If he comes home from a bad day at work, I’m ready on my knees ready to suck him dry. If he gets horny in the middle of the night, wake me up and take advantage of my body. I want that. I crave that. It’s amazing to see just how much progress we’ve made as a couple. From our early years as such babies learning the world together, to this sexual confident couple who flames the fire of the other, I am fucking proud of where we are and what we’ve been through. I would do it all again in a second if it meant we would be here again. He’s always worth it. I’ve always been worth it but I’m learning to see it. It’s still a work in progress as I untangle my trauma and truly learn who I am. One thing will never change. I will always be ready for him at any moment. ( He reads each entry I post so: Hey you sexy mother fucker. I love the fuck out of you.) He will also leave me shaking and mumbling incoherent words after making me orgasm so hard I see black. THANK YOUUUUUUUUU Together, we just match. I’m so grateful we found each other so early. Every moment, good and bad, has created this unstoppable, ever evolving force. Together, we shine. Together, we grow. Together, we deliver unending pleasure. We choose each other every day, and add in a few bonuses here and there. 😉

#nsfw

Luck like suffering Is too often a matter of comparison. I have more than many, less than some. Still, the long days drag on And the short days fade too fast. Long and short, we journey on Do the best we can Tend to our hearts and hopes, Searching for joy even in the darkest places. This, no great wisdom, Just a summation of a life still lived.

Prayers, etc.: * 04:00 – Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel * 06:00 – praying The Angelus. * 07:30 – praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Traditional Holy Rosary in English, followed by the Memorare * 07:45 – Readings from today's Mass include – Epistle: Prov 31:10-31 and Gospel: Matt 13:44-52. Followed by making an Act of Contrition then making an Act of Spiritual Communion, followed by praying Archbishop Vigano’s prayer for USA & President Trump. Followed by today's Morning Devotion Psalm 66 as found in Benedictus Magazine * 12:00 – praying The Angelus * 15:00 – prayerfully reading the Nicene Creed in English. * 18:00 – praying The Angelus, followed by today's Evening Devotion, (Psalm 124), as found in Benedictus Magazine, followed by the Magnificat: Luke 1:46-55. * 19:00 – praying the hour of Compline for tonight according to the Traditional Pre-Vatican II Divine Office, followed by Fr. Chad Ripperger's Prayer of Command to protect my family, my sons, my daughter and her family, my granddaughters and their families, my great grandchildren, and everyone for whom I have responsibility from any demonic activity. – And that followed by the Tuesday Prayers of the Association of the Auxilium Christianorum

Health Metrics: * bw= 224.1 lbs. * bp= 144/85 (67)

Diet: * 06:30 – bowl of oatmeal, egg rolls * 08:50 – 2 HEB bakery cookies * 10:15 – macaroni salad * 12:30 – 1 banana, 1 orange * 13:00 – whole kernel corn, breaded fish steaks * 18:15 – 1 cheese & grape jam sandwich

Chores, etc.: * 04:00 – listen to local news talk radio * 05:50 – bank accounts activity monitored * 07:55 – follow news reports from various sources * 12:00 – go to my bank, transfer funds * 13:00 – watch old game shows and eat lunch at home with Sylvia. * 14:00 – listening to relaxing music, quietly reading * 17:45 – listening to The Joe Pags Show

Chess: * 15:10 – moved in all pending CC games

This has not been my favorite Tuesday. When I woke there were three self-assigned chores ahead of me.

Chore #1 had me physically going to my bank and trying to transfer funds. No complaints about my local bank, folks there were friendly and cooperative. The two external banks I was trying to use to transfer funds from were disappointing. It was later in the afternoon I was able make the transfer using a third bank. Several stressful hours wasted.

The other two chores were: for the first one, surprisingly easy and gratifying; and for the second one, frustrating to the point where I was glad it wasn't something I really had to do. So I decided not to waste any more time on it.

Now on Tuesday evening I'm hoping for a much easier, better day tomorrow.

And the adventure continues.

S.N.I.t ; Cöda 6,99

Ik voel me genoodzaakt om iets te verhelderen. In mijn stukjes staan soms van die stomme tik en schrijf fouten en ik wil u uitleggen waar dit door komt. Het ligt zeker niet aan mij, dat ik te snel tevreden ben, te snel schrijf en niet vaak genoeg de stukjes herlees voor ik op publish tik. Ik schrijf alles goed maar tussen tikken op publiceren en daadwerkelijke publicatie gaat het altijd mis. Mijn stukjes moeten een lange weg afleggen van hier naar Oz en terug naar u, onderweg moeten mijn zinnen langs allemaal conflict gebieden, over land en zee oostwaarts door fysieke oorlogsgebieden, deze zorgen voor heel veel lastige passages omdat digitale spionnen en saboteurs data stromen de soepele ongehinderde doorgang beletten, van alle kanten wordt er gemorreld aan alles en onder andere daardoor raken mijn zinnen uit model. Bij het vorige stukje stuurde ik het voor de zeekerheid over zee maar net op dat moment voer er een Chinees schip over de kabel waar mijn stukje doorheen moest vlieden, dit schip had allemaal apparatuur aan boord om onze data te husselen, zodat opdrachten gestuurd door onze geheime diensten actief in dat deel van Azië bij aankomst niet meteen werden begrepen en door het korte oponthoud daar uit ontstaan zou de spion zo nijdig worden dat hij de missie die hij moest uitvoeren zou verkloten. Dat is dan maar zo, het gebeurt andersom ook, echter stukjes van onschuldige denker schrijvers zoals ik lijden er ook onder en dat is natuurlijk niet zo fraai.

Behalve de vele oorlogen en het bijbehorende wantrouwen is er westwaarts ook nog de grote wereldhandelsoorlog, mijn beetje tekst reist tegelijk met een meute aan financiële data, we gaan samen van hot naar her en terug. Veranderingen in belastingtarieven en dergelijke zorgen meteen voor enorme fluctuaties in de data atmosfeer, het is net als met vuurexplosies op de zon die iedere keer de uitzendingen van Mars TV verstoren, en als dat gebeurt, zo'n akelige tax maatregel, dan raakt dat alle data overal in die gegevens atmosfeer. Vier dagen geleden publiceerde ik mijn stukje net op het moment dat Europa het belastingtarief op tepelpiercings verhoogde van 5 naar 7 procent, tepelpiercings zijn geen luxe product maar medische noodzaak, anders vallen de tepels van de borst, vandaar dit lage tarief, dit even voor als u denkt dat dit sieraden zijn en hoog, zeer hoog moeten worden belast. Nou, terug naar het eigenlijke onderwerp, de effecten die dit verhoogen van belastingen heeft op mijn werk als het onderweg is naar u ogen, dus, de data golven die na zo'n wijziging in lijn of vezel worden veroorzaakt zijn zo hevig dat ze zorgen voor data stormen, data hozen, enorme schomememelingen der tekenens, mijn gegevens botsen ervan op elkaar, of komen in aanraking met andere tekenen der electrische tijd, daardoor raken mijn woorden van hun stuk in het stuk, en staat er opeens een een woordje dubbel of mist er eentje, dat soort ergerlijke onzin, dan loopt de zin die ik rennend schreef krom gebogen, alsof het tegen de wind in moet beuken. Geloof me, zo als u het daar en dan leest, zo is het nooit geschreven. Dit werk doe ik al zo lang dat alles wat ik denk en dus schrijf foutloos en vlot leesbaar is ondanks de snelheid waar ik me schrijf en publiceer.

Mijn gedachten zijn gewoon te lang onderweg langs en over een door wereldse strubbelingen bomvol en roerig traject, er zijn heden ten dage veel te veel beren en @pen op de digitale snelweg van hier naar oz en dan naar waar u zit te kijken.

Perfectie is gewoon lastig te transporteren. Dit doet me denken aan het verhaal dat een atleet, een polsstokhoogspringer, ooit vertelde, deze man sprong naar eigen denken en zeggen enorme hoogten, menigmaal verbeterde hij zo het wereldrecord. Hij sprong met gemak 7 meter 60, telkens weer hoger en hoger. Echter als je zijn wedstrijden terugkeek dan zagen wij, op tv, dat hij drie keer afsprong op aanvangshoogte van 5 meter 15. Dit is eigenlijk net zo'n probleem, de manier waarop het in beeld werd gebracht was heel anders dan de wijze waarop de atleet daadwerkelijk sprong. Het enigste waarop je moet letten is wat er omging in zijn wedstrijd en niet in die van de organisatie, dat was slechts de uitvoering, niet de intentie waarmee het gebeurde. Er zijn maar heel weinig atleten echt goed in dat ene kleine onderdeel van de wedstrijd, de uitvoering. Het is onterecht dat juist die alle aandacht krijgen, aldus die hoogspringer. Maar goed, dat was zijn punt om te maken. Ik heb heel veel lezers en krijg ondanks alle gedachten hoge snelheidslijn transportproblemen meer dan voldoende aandacht en respect betreffende mijn eigen atletische letteren prestaties. Ik vond alleen dat ik u dit moest vertellen opdat u nu in ieder geval weet dat het niet aan u zelf ligt maar aan de oorlog en zo.

Zo dan.. nu naar bed

Welterusten

First of all: Hello!!

I still have no sense of smell which is somewhat of a bummer. Sometimes I try to smell stuff; Like I’d stick my nose in a jar of ground coffee and take a deep whiff, but I’m unsure whether I do sense something faintly, or if it’s just my imagination pulling a cruel prank on me with the phantom smell.

It’s the self deception. the painting of a prettier picture of reality and/or the self that are both good and bad: good because I don’t think life is feasible without at least a slight self deception; how else could we stand ourselves?

Speaking of which, I got a pair of gay looking black shorts from my wife yesterday. She ordered them. I’ve stopped buying clothes. Anyhow so they have a feminine fabric which is semi translucent and therefore you get a hint of what’s underneath but tactfully the rest is left to the imagination. I wouldn’t have bought such sorts myself, but am deeply moved by my wife’s thoughtfulness and so therefore they are my favourite pair.

It’s such mundane manifestations of love which I find makes life so beautiful sometimes, and It is a boon indeed to have people and dogs around you who love you, even though they really know you.

I’ve got two more topics:

Tim Gunn,? The guy from Project Runway seems to be such a warm and kind person, he showcases a lot of empathy. And the funny thing about that show is that I’ve watched a lot of episodes by now, but still I have no clue which garments are bad and which ones are good, so the judges always surprise me. It’s humbling.

And finally there was something more interesting to tell but I did forget it

Ok thank you for reading if you got this far.

There are some very necessary steps in the process of breaking a cycle.

1. Get clear on what the cycle is. You can’t break something if you don’t know what you’re breaking. You need to name it. Map it. See the pattern clearly before you can step out of it.

2. Understand your own impact on the cycle. What was your role? How did you respond? What were you thinking or feeling? This isn’t about blame—it’s about awareness. You can’t change a dynamic without seeing where you’ve participated in it.

3. Understand the other person’s involvement. What are they actually doing? Not why—they may not even know that themselves—but what. What do they say? What do they avoid? What do they control? Get clear on their part without collapsing into analysis or excuses.

4. Find the truth. This is the most important step. Move past the stories of blame and victimhood. The emotions are real—but emotional reactions don’t always tell the whole truth. The sweet spot is knowing what’s happening, why it’s happening, and what you're choosing to do in response.

There’s no truth in blame. There’s no power in victimhood. When you drop the emotional self-defence, what’s left is clarity. You’re not protecting yourself from anything anymore. You’re just standing—fully—in truth, in integrity, and in your own power.

When you stand here and watch what happens from this place, the emotional temper tantrums of others don’t look the same anymore. They aren’t yours to solve. You don’t have to protect yourself from them. You’re just a witness to what’s happening around you that has nothing to do with you. It doesn’t make it any less painful. It’s hard to watch. It takes an emotional toll. But this price is worth it because, in the long term, it protects your integrity, your value, your worth, and your truth.

Other people’s chaos is not yours to solve—but when it impacts you, it offers you a choice. You can participate or not. Not participating doesn’t always have to mean blocking the person and never talking to them again. Sometimes those relationships are still wanted. If you find the truth, integrity, and power within yourself, it will guide your response.

Self-defense is deeply ingrained in our society. The ego loves to defend itself. But it also creates its own painful cycles because it keeps you stuck in the same loops. Learning how to stop defending yourself long enough to see what’s really going on—without the story of blame and self-protection—is actually the key to breaking the cycle.

The story of blame perpetuates a cycle of self-defense. It doesn’t let you clearly see what’s truly happening around you. It focuses you in the wrong place. The truth doesn’t include a story of blame, because blame isn’t true. It’s a lie that humans tell. It helps them avoid taking responsibility for their own thoughts and feelings.

The thing that happened may have triggered certain thoughts and feelings, but the effect those thoughts and feelings have on you is up to you. The cause was the external event. The effect is whatever you think or feel as a result. But those two things are independent of each other. They are separate processes. Your job is to take care of the thing you have control over—which is how you feel and think. You can do nothing about the other person, which is why the story of blame isn’t helpful. It focuses you on something you have no control over.

Insecurity made me engage in the story of blame all the time. It was somebody else’s fault that I couldn’t do or say what I wanted. It was somebody else’s fault that I couldn’t make my own choices and live my life the way I wanted to.

The result of that blame? I created a life I was stuck in. I created the life other people wanted me to have. I didn’t create my own truth because I thought I had to play by other people’s rules.

Then one day I woke up. I realized that what other people were telling me was a projection of their own fear and pain. It had nothing to do with me. Then I realized my decisions were mine. Even if I was making them based on other people’s feedback, they were still ultimately my choice.

Now, the truth comes in waves. I’ve begun to see what my insecure choices created. As I clean up the mess my insecure self created years ago, just know that it does get better. It gets simpler instead of easier. It gets clearer instead of foggier. It becomes more truth with fewer lies.

The truth will always win—but not in the way society likes to tell you it will. It wins because it heals, not because somebody else loses or stays in pain. It wins because it clears the fog, not because it leaves somebody else in it. It wins on its own terms, not by other people’s rules. The truth is powerful enough to break the cycles you’ve found in your own life. But it can only do that if you honour it, respect it, and use it the way it’s intended—not to hurt, but to heal yourself.

Love to all,

Della

Levantamento inédito da Folha de S.Paulo, feito com base na Lei de Acesso à Informação (LAI) e em parceria com Instituto Sou da Paz, apontou acertos da política de segurança pública do governo federal.

O presidente Lula cumpriu a promessa de reduzir a quantidade de armas de fogo em posse da população, depois da flexibilização irresponsável adotada por Jair Bolsonaro para instaurar o caos no país. Levantamento inédito feito pelo jornal Folha de S.Paulo e divulgado no domingo (6) revela queda de 91% nas compras pelos chamados CACs (caçadores, atiradores e colecionadores), na comparação entre 2022 e 2024.

Em 2024, foram adquiridas 39.914 armas, ante 448.319 no último ano do governo Bolsonaro, quando houve recorde de compras. A diminuição inclui todo tipo de armamento. A própria Folha reconheceu, em editorial, o acerto da atual administração em termos de segurança pública, classificando o armamentismo bolsonarista de “insensato”.

O jornal paulistano obteve os dados por meio da Lei de Acesso à Informação (LAI). Eles foram analisados em parceria com o Instituto Sou da Paz. Os números são do Exército, que transferiu a fiscalização dos CACs à Polícia Federal (PF) no começo do mês.

Controles mais rigorosos

Já em 2023, primeiro ano do governo Lula 3, a queda nas aquisições foi de 77%. No período, compraram-se 176.870 armas. Em 2025, até o mês de abril, são 18.065 novos registros.

Na avaliação de Bruno Langeani, consultor sênior do Instituto Sou da Paz, a queda de 91% em dois anos se deve às exigências feitas a partir de 2023, como a diferenciação entre categorias de CACs e controles mais rigorosos da ficha criminal.

“Mais do que manter a redução, o essencial é garantir que todos que registram armas cumpram integralmente os requisitos, especialmente as condições psicológicas, ocupação lícita e a ausência de antecedentes criminais. E que aqueles com registro ativo mantenham as condições para possuí-las”, esclarece Langeani.

Reversão do descalabro

No Brasil, atualmente, cerca de 1,5 milhão de armas estão nas mãos de 980 mil CACs, sendo que 932.551 delas foram registradas durante o governo Bolsonaro, e 234.849, no de Lula. Em editorial publicado na segunda (7), a Folha elogiou os resultados alcançados pela nova política de segurança.

“Ao gerir o setor de segurança pública com base em ideologia, em vez de técnica, Jair Bolsonaro flexibilizou por meio de decretos uma série de normas que restringiam o acesso a armas de fogo no país. Felizmente, o governo de Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva vem conseguindo reverter o descalabro”, reconhece o jornal.

“A redução é bem-vinda, dado que tanto pesquisas científicas como experiências em outros países evidenciam que não só não há relação direta entre expansão do acesso a armas e diminuição de indicadores de criminalidade como verifica-se aumento de mortes que seriam evitáveis”, conclui o editorial.

#cac #cacs #armamentismo

fonte: site do PT

This Isn’t Just Authoritarianism. It’s Fascism. The Five Elements That Define the Threat We Face

Disponible en español al final

I. Introduction: The Word We’re Afraid to Say

“Authoritarian” sounds clinical—like a system or ideology. But what we’re witnessing in America isn’t just authoritarianism. It’s fascism—a dangerous fusion of power worship, cultural resentment, and violent exclusion.

And it’s time we called it by name.

The president doesn’t just crave power. He embodies a uniquely American brand of fascism, one rooted in white Christian nationalism and broadcast through grievance politics and spectacle.

Let’s examine the five defining features of fascism—and how they manifest in Donald Trump’s rise.

II. The Five Elements of Fascism

Rejection of Democracy in Favor of a Strongman Authoritarians believe in using strong leaders to maintain order. Fascists go further: they glorify the leader as the voice of the people, the embodiment of the national will.

Trump: “I am your voice.” “I alone can fix it.”

Fascism isn’t about policy. It’s about personal rule—about collapsing the government into the image of one man.

Stoking Rage Against Cultural Elites Fascists depend on public anger. They channel resentment toward cultural, academic, and media elites, blaming them for social decay.

Trump: “The out-of-touch media elites, the political elites… they’ve led us from one disaster to another.”

They don’t just challenge institutions—they undermine trust in the very idea of shared knowledge, weaponizing ignorance as virtue.

Nationalism Based on Race and Bloodlines Authoritarianism uses nationalism to strengthen the state. Fascism twists nationalism into a racial myth.

Trump: “When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending their best.”

“Any Jewish people that vote for a Democrat… it shows either a total lack of knowledge or great disloyalty.”

Fascists elevate one group as “true Americans” and label the rest as infiltrators, traitors, or threats to purity.

Glorification of Violence and Heroic Warriors Fascism rewards the strong and punishes the weak. It turns violence into virtue.

Trump: “Our people are tougher, stronger, meaner, and smarter.”

“I am your warrior. I am your justice. I am your retribution.”

It’s a worldview rooted in social Darwinism—a belief that survival belongs to the brutal, not the just.

Repression of Women and LGBTQ+ People At its core, fascism is about male dominance. Women are sidelined. Queer people are erased.

Trump: “I will ask Congress to pass a bill establishing that the only genders recognized by the United States government are male and female, and they are assigned at birth.”

Anything that challenges the patriarchal warrior ideal—whether feminism, queerness, or gender diversity—is cast as a threat to civilization itself.

III. These Elements Work Together

Each of these five pillars feeds the others:

The strongman demands loyalty.

Loyalty is proven through rage.

Rage is stoked by racial myth.

The myth is defended through violence.

Violence is justified by rigid gender roles and control.

This isn’t a loose collection of bad ideas. It’s a coherent, dangerous ideology—and it’s metastasizing inside one of America’s two major parties.

IV. Why This Matters Now

We’ve been slow to call this what it is. We hoped it would fade. We rationalized it as populism. But fascism doesn’t require jackboots. It doesn’t arrive with flags and torches.

Sometimes, it wears a suit. Sometimes, it smiles and waves. Sometimes, it says “God bless America” while promising to erase anyone who doesn’t fit the mold.

If we wait until the textbooks catch up, it’ll be too late.

V. Conclusion: Don’t Soften the Alarm

Donald Trump is not merely an authoritarian. He is the living embodiment of modern American fascism.

This isn’t just about elections. It’s about truth, history, freedom—and whether we have the courage to name what we’re fighting before it consumes us.

Fascism doesn’t win because it’s strong. It wins because people look away.

Let’s not look away.

🛑 What You Can Do:

Share this article. Speak boldly.

Call it fascism—because that’s what it is.

Support educators, activists, and journalists who are standing against disinformation and political violence.

Vote like your country’s future depends on it. Because it does.

#CallItFascism #StopAuthoritarianism #DemocracyUnderSiege #TruthMatters #WeWillNotBeSilent #HistoryRepeating #StandAgainstHate #DefendTheRepublic #NeverAgainMeansNow

Acknowledgment: This article was heavily influenced by the public commentary and educational work of economist and former U.S. Secretary of Labor Robert Reich, particularly his breakdown of the five elements of fascism. Portions of the structure and analysis here reflect his insights and are used with appreciation for his efforts to raise public awareness.

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Esto No Es Solo Autoritarismo. Es Fascismo.

Los Cinco Elementos Que Definen la Amenaza que Enfrentamos

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I. Introducción: La Palabra que Tenemos Miedo de Decir

“Autoritarismo” suena clínico, como un sistema o una ideología. Pero lo que estamos presenciando en Estados Unidos no es solo autoritarismo. Es fascismo: una fusión peligrosa de adoración al poder, resentimiento cultural y exclusión violenta.

Y ya es hora de llamarlo por su nombre.

El presidente no solo ansía el poder. Él encarna una marca exclusivamente estadounidense de fascismo, enraizada en el nacionalismo cristiano blanco y transmitida a través de la política del agravio y el espectáculo.

Examinemos las cinco características definitorias del fascismo, y cómo se manifiestan en el ascenso de Donald Trump.

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II. Los Cinco Elementos del Fascismo

1. Rechazo de la Democracia en Favor de un Hombre Fuerte

Los autoritarios creen en usar líderes fuertes para mantener el orden. Los fascistas van más allá: glorifican al líder como la voz del pueblo, la encarnación de la voluntad nacional.

Trump: “Yo soy su voz.” “Solo yo puedo arreglar esto.”

El fascismo no se trata de políticas. Se trata del dominio personal: de colapsar el gobierno en la imagen de un solo hombre.

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1. Avivar la Ira Contra las Élites Culturales

Los fascistas dependen de la ira pública. Canalizan el resentimiento hacia las élites culturales, académicas y mediáticas, culpándolas por la decadencia social.

Trump: “Las élites mediáticas desconectadas, las élites políticas... nos han llevado de un desastre a otro.”

No solo desafían a las instituciones: socavan la confianza en la idea misma del conocimiento compartido, usando la ignorancia como una virtud.

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1. Nacionalismo Basado en la Raza y el Linaje

El autoritarismo usa el nacionalismo para fortalecer al estado. El fascismo tuerce el nacionalismo en un mito racial.

Trump: “Cuando México envía a su gente, no están enviando a los mejores.” “Cualquier judío que vote por un demócrata... demuestra una falta total de conocimiento o una gran deslealtad.”

Los fascistas elevan a un grupo como “verdaderos estadounidenses” y etiquetan al resto como infiltrados, traidores o amenazas a la pureza.

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1. Glorificación de la Violencia y los Guerreros Heroicos

El fascismo recompensa a los fuertes y castiga a los débiles. Convierte la violencia en virtud.

Trump: “Nuestra gente es más dura, más fuerte, más cruel y más inteligente.” “Yo soy su guerrero. Yo soy su justicia. Yo soy su retribución.”

Es una visión del mundo basada en el darwinismo social: la creencia de que la supervivencia pertenece a los brutales, no a los justos.

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1. Represión de Mujeres y Personas LGBTQ+

En su esencia, el fascismo se trata del dominio masculino. Las mujeres son marginadas. Las personas queer son borradas.

Trump: “Pediré al Congreso que apruebe una ley estableciendo que los únicos géneros reconocidos por el gobierno de los Estados Unidos son masculino y femenino, y que se asignan al nacer.”

Todo lo que desafía el ideal patriarcal del guerrero —ya sea el feminismo, la diversidad de género o la identidad queer— es visto como una amenaza a la civilización misma.

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III. Estos Elementos Funcionan en Conjunto

Cada uno de estos cinco pilares alimenta a los otros:

El hombre fuerte exige lealtad.

La lealtad se demuestra con ira.

La ira se alimenta del mito racial.

El mito se defiende con violencia.

La violencia se justifica mediante roles de género rígidos y control.

Esto no es una colección suelta de malas ideas. Es una ideología coherente y peligrosa—y se está extendiendo dentro de uno de los dos partidos principales de Estados Unidos.

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IV. Por Qué Esto Importa Ahora

Hemos tardado en llamarlo por su nombre. Esperábamos que se desvaneciera. Lo racionalizamos como populismo. Pero el fascismo no necesita botas militares. No llega con banderas y antorchas.

A veces, usa traje. A veces, sonríe y saluda. A veces, dice “Dios bendiga a América” mientras promete borrar a cualquiera que no encaje en el molde.

Si esperamos a que los libros de texto se pongan al día, será demasiado tarde.

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V. Conclusión: No Suavices la Alarma

Donald Trump no es simplemente un autoritario. Él es la encarnación viviente del fascismo moderno estadounidense.

Esto no se trata solo de elecciones. Se trata de la verdad, la historia, la libertad—y si tenemos el valor de nombrar lo que estamos enfrentando antes de que nos consuma.

El fascismo no gana porque sea fuerte. Gana porque la gente aparta la mirada.

No apartemos la mirada.

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🛑 Qué Puedes Hacer:

Comparte este artículo. Habla con valentía.

Llámalo fascismo—porque eso es lo que es.

Apoya a educadores, activistas y periodistas que se enfrentan a la desinformación y la violencia política.

Vota como si el futuro de tu país dependiera de ello. Porque depende.

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#LlamémosloFascismo #DeténElAutoritarismo #DemocraciaBajoAtaque #LaVerdadImporta #NoNosCallaremos #LaHistoriaSeRepite #ContraElOdio #DefiendeLaRepública #NuncaMásEsAhora

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Reconocimiento: Este artículo fue fuertemente influenciado por los comentarios públicos y el trabajo educativo del economista y exsecretario de Trabajo de EE.UU. Robert Reich, particularmente su desglose de los cinco elementos del fascismo. Partes de la estructura y el análisis aquí reflejan sus ideas y se usan con aprecio por sus esfuerzos para aumentar la conciencia pública.

No concluding No convincing  No debating No preaching 

Just sharing stories.

New York City. Old loft building. I enter it through a heavy wooden door. Looks like warm cherry with a reddish tint. There’s a living space as soon as I enter the apartment. I walk into what I think is the kitchen. Instead, it’s a long, narrow room with a bar counter. There’s still a bunch of stuff the previous resident left. The walls are floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. They are filled with old, dusty books. It’s a library. The structure is dark, heavy, and gnarly. Almost no natural lighting. At the end of the room is a small stage where musicians perform. It’s a bar. It’s a venue. It’s a gathering place inside the apartment.

Every year around this time, I dream of this exact loft and library bar.

#dreams

No one asks for oil. Rather, they are told.

Canada and New Brunswick Shrouded in Violent Industrial Secrecy, Espionage and Torment of a Whistleblower: Whistleblower Jeffery Thomas Withers profitably tortured by Invega and other methods under Blaine Higgs’ nazi administration- and is still slated to be legally drugged with mandatory antiperformative substances at least every twenty eight days- and through unto an unknown period of the same: a now-Liberal Government has inherited this reprisal regime of bodily assault, spiritual assault, and mental abuse against a citizen of concerned thought..

This article was posted in Autumn of 2024 at 97% verbatim with very muted response and no replies from The CBC, The Guardian, nor from any elected politician. Dr. Samir Taleb later wrote a prescription for 12 doses of Invega on New Brunswick’s provincial Election Day in 2024. Jeffery Withers has been returned to involuntary psychiatric “care” at the Saint John Regional Hospital and is subject to accepting injections from a woman he labelled the antichrist, and a managerial psychiatrist he denoted “the beast”. Jeff is not permitted of discharge from the secure 4DN facility to home without accepting these antagonists and spiritually-bound purveyors of spriritual and physical death. -July 8th, 2025

Jeffery Withers Saint John, New Brunswick E2M2R6 Canada

Respectfully, to Dear Friends and to Susan Delacourt,

And to any friend at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation,

And to The Right And Honourable Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and to The Honourable Susan Holt

And to The Honourable Elizabeth May and The Honourable David Coon,

To The Nordic Council,

And to those who haven’t spied, nor voted for men of war,

I — Jeffery Withers — as I type, I remember that In 2009, Dr. Byron Hyde removed his finger from my rectum. He tossed a box of tissues, and stated, “They left some.” I don’t want him speaking for me.

It seemed there was other solace in Ottawa, for me, but perhaps I had run to the wrong place. I had relatives Ron and Brenda Robertson to become acquainted with. It was fully unknown to me then how terrifying the next fifteen years would be. The path was set, however, and I felt that an escape from other kinds of pain in Saint John had finally passed.

The hiring of John Gomery was said to be a noteworthy success for Ron, and his subsequent recruitment operations with evolving business names would become “the only game in town”- Ottawa’s go-to for the executive pool.

Some time had passed before I noticed the JD Irving plaque in Ron’s office- left of his shoulder and high upon the wall- it was a commemoration of his service to Jim Irving with Ron as CEO of Kent Homes- a time during which roofs were blowing off their modular homes. That past was removed from from the Rockliffe life that Ron and Brenda were now living.

I signed up at fourteen dollars per hour with Ron in the summer of 2010; an amount I had chosen; two dollars more per hour than I felt comfortable asking for. The next two years with Ron would be a time of discomfort, big asks, and admittedly, use of cannabis that seemed to help me unlearn some of the troubles of an excessively civil upbringing. Addiction was strong within just a few weeks, but I was set on battering through what I felt was public service- careful vetting that had unravelled into generating what I thought might be amateurish paper trails perhaps, for Ron, and ultimately to the Harper government- which I was not in lockstep with. I focused on the tasks that Ron and other members of the Odgers Berndtson team would ask of me.

On one occasion, I proposed enlisting the services of my previous employer, Claire Driscoll And Associates, who had telephone strength, in seeking a more fulsome search for candidates. This was a no; I was warned of an always-on risk of embarrassing Ron in front of the Privy Council.

Canada Post was first. A new CEO was being sought. An Auditor General for Canada who would replace Sheila Fraser came soon after. I did assist with a Chief of Defence Staff search, but by then I felt unconfident in my vetting efforts; I could only do so much with an Internet search to discover potential issues that might arise in a candidate (It seemed to me the final candidate had already been selected when I was asked to help vet the “final three”).

I recused myself from the RCMP Commissioner search of the time- I was not fond of police in general and I left this to Ron.

Ron had personal ambitions to attain further stardom and financial gain (Brenda would later indicate to me that Ron had a financial goal.). I was troubled by then, considering, what more success could an only-game-in-town headhunter go after?

I had sooner figured Ron would retire upon such a financial goal, perhaps with it easily being met, and I had hoped that with his departure, more open recruitment practices, though fully how I don’t know, would ensue.

Ron’s personal project: Are people with prior Ottawa connections more likely to remain in their roles [there] longer than those without? Would executives with family in Ottawa, or prior education there, employment, or residence, break the inconvenient and expensive less-than-three-year-tenure mark?

Long tenure might be attractive to a government seeking to implement its agenda in terms that are beyond the sitting government. What constitutes, as supposed, humane and fully democratic; ecologically sound compatibility with an implementation of such staffing and its operations? It isn’t trivial to also be asking, “How does the human resources and executive interface align with The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms?”

A personal but global concern: How would looming pandemics even more severe than COVID and SARS, such as Ebola, be experienced in Canada notwithstanding their full eradication and survival in the present day? These outcomes are fully steered via the caliber of headhunted “talent” and its possible private interests.

These are my own thoughts.

I proceeded with tallying the Ottawa-connected hiring statistics, based on surveys Ron had issued to his hires- surveys about their own Ottawa history.

No significant correlation was found to exist between a person having a prior connection to Ottawa and the length of their tenure. It is also imperative to ask if this level of Ottawa-only negative feedback loop in hiring is what the populace should ethically tolerate. I cannot fathom the consequences of excluding people outside of Ron’s selections- Ottawa ones- It was convenient that he lived there, and he felt he knew that talent pool better than anyone else. Would the Privy Council fall for this kind of trap?

Ron certainly could have read the non-correlation math himself. I was pressed to do so for him, however. My fourteen-dollar-per-hour “research” that might assist in the destruction of mostly public administration was asked to be done. But a pair of documents had arisen before my departure, one of which was a CV that embodied:

James Nichol Schultz – Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers, 2003 – present

A senior regulatory strategist … Proactively manages multi-issue public policy change. Actively advancing deregulation …

I had been locked out of the FileFinder application the morning after screenshots were taken.

Twelve years of horror had begun. Others had already been in progress.

Beyond the grievous and significant, self-described criminal behaviour as detailed in the CV, and the significant injury sustained globally through it, my reactions are damaged after the passing of several years of a lack of its existence in safe, and what I believe to be legally sane, open discussion. It’s unfortunate that my secondary reactions are bound to personal suppression in supposed peacetime, as I remember my pocketmoney and the chokeholds and the monitors, both technical and incarnate. I am still aggrieved of what I found and it how became manifest in Canada.

Furthermore, what are Ron’s enduring connections to the Irving family and its companies? I understood that he had likely hired “high-level” staff for Canada’s espionage racket. This would trouble me for years, with the possibility of dirty industry seeking the security apparatus of the state.

A later disturbance to me was a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation that may still not possess the open technologies and whistleblower protection protocols that might be rationally secure- secure forthwith to save lives. I have not the tools to determine, yet CSEC has blood on its hands through the honeypot that a journalism organization may inadvertently become, should it downgrade the security protocols of such a professedly democracy-supporting organization.

I have in fact spoken to journalists at the CBC before beginning a dimmer view of the possibilities of disclosure to public discourse. Keeping in mind the possibilities that might come from the top of said organization, I sought solace in confiding with CBC journalists, but Robertson was likely highly involved in hiring the head of the CBC. Nor am I safely able to verify all facts most similar to these, still today, for obvious surveillance and safety reasons before disclosure.

It was even harder to be told to pick up the Irving-owned Telegraph Journal to occupy my time while waiting to speak with one journalist in the CBC’s Saint John office. That’s trauma for thinking types when the subject in confidence is often the unethical activities of the family who have directed the Telegraph Journal itself.

Would Ron’s hires risk dismissal if not acquiescing to his private goals? Public procurement is another concern, hopefully then and now not only of mine. I took this concern to Dominic Cardy, who was then, as I understand, leader of the New Brunswick New Democratic Party. Waiting was among the roughest overnight experiences I can still recall having endured at the time, coping with adrenal burnout in a frozen car in Fredericton, which needed alternation between parking lots for my fear of police. Morning would dawn, and a black Mercedes dropped Cardy off at his office.

Cardy took notes of my concern about Irving warship procurements. He left just a few minutes later for a photo-op at the local landfill where the other party leaders were present. “This job gets more interesting every day,” he remarked. I left and furthered attempts to open what I felt was already long-overdue discourse.

On Edward Snowden, whose first major disclosure in 2013 occurred as I was about then gaining concern with whom I could safely call on the telephone without either party ending up dead:

The physical madness of making contact: I can simply go offline, but if anyone or everyone I speak with is under surveillance, there is risk to life. I became labelled schizophrenic (and bought into that game) because I followed warnings about mass surveillance- and lawful intercept, something which I am just as troubled by, for example, in a case such as high corruption, where a whistleblower is legally surveilled if not wholly issued a fatwah by his own government.

Well-read peers and family had sooner committed me to a place of death than accept this arguably simple truth.

Whistleblowing can become paranoia incarnate, particularly when one is under coercive force and untoward stealth and deception by powerful and opaque agencies.

Your backyard? Or Lepreau? The Point Lepreau nuclear plant sits though vulnerable to seismic activity nearby and eventually within. A former employee tells me of minor pools of radioactive water on the floor. Naps on the reactor.

Ron joined the NB Power recruitment file years following his anticipated retirement (A suspected description of personal nuclear terror is detailed later in this letter- one that left me feeling the horror of such a thing even in the hands of the most proficient of men (I pray that all non-men on Earth already know better)).

Enter Blaine Higgs, former CFO of Irving Oil, who became Premier of New Brunswick as I lay nearing dead in a secure “psychiatric facility”. More on this, also later.

The Irving Oil refinery in Saint John and its Canaport terminal on the Fundy Bay extend a direct pipeline of the dirtiest petroleum scum to land at the provincially-owned Coleson Cove power generating station. The Irving Oil refinery in urban Saint John, frequent proprietor of a brown stain across the Kennebecasis sky, is the largest in Canada, while Coleson Cove was recently listed as the largest source of pollution in Atlantic Canada. Birds are said to fall from the sky as they fly over the stacks at Coleson Cove.

NB Power continues to aggrieve the newly-commissioned, Neqotkuk Maliseet First Nation-led Burchill Wind Farm (nearby), with claims of burden on NB Power’s grid. I grieve the barotrauma of birds who pass over the new turbines, but specifically the sight of the turbines doesn’t scare me- rather, coal and gas-powered Christmas lights do.

I attempted suicide in 2018. Horizon Health seemed fully prepared- I was forcefully transported to the hospital I didn’t want to go to. A woman in the emergency entrance area preyed on my mother: “Who believes in prayer!?” My mother does, as do I, and the unsolicited woman soon later spoke at me in a fashion only a sociopathic agent of North American brand might attempt to once my Mom and I were within reach.

With “Psychomotor retardation,” and the immediate label of a poor sense of history, [Dr. Moorti] had a detailed mental illness application ready. I was committed to 4DN at the Saint John Regional Hospital that morning. My near-lethal wounds were only in my hands now. I fought for wound care while workers focused on keeping me locked in the building for weeks. In Saint John, persons in distress still fight for a “stay” there. On paper and in words, I am oppressively forbidden to ever officially or permanently leave “supervised community care”.

Dr. Alan Fostey, who had previously, for $100, issued me a paper document authorizing cannabis purchases at the HBB Medical dispensary he had been working through, was now in charge of my detention at the Regional Hospital. I was labelled “schizoaffective” and I failed “mental illness hearings”. I do not recall being asked if I experienced hallucinations or such criteria pertinent to what is “commonly” considered psychiatric admission, but the penalty at 4DN was grave. Staff were generally and chillingly elevated in mood, and my feelings on the morning of my February 3rd suicide attempt were scant compared to what 4DN itself would inflict.

It was understood that I was to be compliant: A “voluntary stay as long as [I was] cooperative,” claimed Fostey. I was in full captivity, although six years of personal terror had already happened. Fostey was retweeting The Rebel and meanwhile promoting an app that vulnerable people were encouraged to install on their smartphones.

I gained forty pounds within just a few short weeks. Dr. Fostey acknowledged the effect of mandatory Olanzapine as being responsible for metabolic syndrome.

I had a verbally and equivalently declared attempt of political and industrial re-education on my life before authorization of leave by [Dr. Satya], who insisted I relinquish my paranoia about government malfeasance. His mere admission of this is not my sole issue of contention; rather the whole of this essay is. —-One would expect Xinjiang.

At home, my parents were instructed to administer Olanzapine “for agitation”. I had never been more silent by then, and the full-family brainwash was replete. There is still a chasm between us.. I had left home in the summer of 2018 with attempts to again connect with certain persons or anyone who could truly assist in a way that was agreed upon as ethically sound. But people locally worshipped Horizon Health- and Irving- entities who are not afraid to lay traps for paranoid business and political gain. The opening accostments of that summer, while on fearful must-keep-moving-along walks, were mostly from people sporting Irving regalia on their clothes. Irving Oil was doing more than just erecting a new office building in the city where I had nearly died from walking in fear.

I am still blamed for refusing food in former years. My silent, dampened hunger strike was met with that dopamine blocker, Olanzapine. The induction of even more extreme hunger by said chemical left me in ridicule by staff and other misery. I succumbed to the often sole option of industrially-processed bread and peanut butter when I somewhat voluntarily chose to overeat and felt the need to do so. Ice cream was a rare joke between mealtimes.

I’ve been permitted to be detained in ether English or French, which is such flying grace if not for the gaslighting that it was.

4DN at the Saint John Regional Hospital and Chalmers Hospital in Fredericton, areas of which in their entirety are unknown to me, include one in Fredericton which was devoid of light. Places responsible for acts of torture, with other Horizon facilities engaging in similar warfare. Some areas of Horizon facilities need no repurposing but to hold someone legally or illegally captive- and possibly subject to legal bodily and spiritual assault by various means. I will lay waste to my credibility if it means liberation for whomever might be lest wrongfully captive there or any person abused by such facilities as a matter of expedience or other corrupt gain. “Mental illness” hearings in secret replace what might otherwise be publicly-viewed court sessions that might also collaterally expose the laundry of billionaires and other stars in the political safety net.

I was picked up off the street during the New Brunswick election bid of 2018- the summer of my homelessness. Ambulance or police car were the options given to me, as I was separated from my compact flash cards of scant poetry. I was stuffed into a non-typical police car and taken to the Regional Hospital. Strapped to a board, a smiling woman drove a needle through my pants and into my left thigh. My hands went from white to black in a burden of pain and loss of oxygen to them- anoxia . A cop mocked me with a hand gesture until I lost consciousness.

So Higgs won.

…

Dr. Pamela Forsythe calls her drug book her bible. The woman quickly aimed a phone call at my Mom to book an “appointment” for me, dubiously mandatory; predatory at a time when one sentencing, so to speak, had just ended. Forsythe knows possibly no limits when it comes to ethics, and she engaged in aggravated use of psychiatric fraud. She boasted of the “large dogs” at her Kennebecasis Park home when I spoke defensively. How Pamela was chosen as head of the Canadian Psychiatry Association is unknown to me- I dread the idea of any recruitment firm or relation to McGill University having a corrupt role in this kind of art- It’s understood to be unsafe for me to look up such things on a computer or phone. Previous attempts to do so have resulted in phone calls from the “FACT” team. “Your needle is due.” Or a mandatory appointment with Dr. Samir Taleb becomes suddenly required.

Paying for parking to an Irving company at a “Mental Health” facility in an Irving Building, to be prevented from blowing the whistle on Irving corruption: a special horror of New Brunswick.

Forsythe tried to get me to be comfortable with “schizophrenia”. I knew as a whistleblower the stigma being offered. A game of time was being played.

Years of scareware on my iPhone and other devices, and a home bedroom thermostat whose backlight, presumably in retribution, would illuminate upon my simply getting out of bed must be extreme fun for someone, someone hidden. I’ve been more recently told by the provincially-employed “patient advocate” to go for another mental illness hearing as the solution, presumably to this, but specifically to my condemnation by that very panel every 365 days. The hearing that, despite Taleb’s repeated perjury expressed into it, licenses continued mandatory injections and subjugation to interrogations is no friend.

My apparent bigger and serious transgression in time past was my assertion that I had intentionally been given HIV by Horizon Health. In trauma and distress, I reckoned it was not beyond them to backstab the whistleblower that I was and still am. Dr. Claude Botha said he could solve this issue. So I felt relief: “Tell me I’m wrong, Claude. I’d like to go home.” And I could, I thought. He such then immediately committed me to another detention.

Forsythe seemed overjoyed to me in her report.

By the third detention, I was in protracted distress of an even greater nature. How could I be well in a psychiatric prison, not to mention while being involuntarily controlled and admonished by paid employees twenty four hours per day?– Ones who had a burgeoning affiliation with MAID. My ability to blow on matters successfully past to many had been presented to be destroyed.

Days of unabated static noise would play on the radio of an adjacent person. It would be on continuously and only made silent upon my parents imminently arriving, by a nurse who would seem to know. I had longed for my parents’ and sister’s visits despite the wreckage being perpetrated, not only by the people who would only temporarily mute the noise for mostly the duration of our reunion. My parents were not permitted to understand these acts of depravity.

Mostly by then, no peer would believe any of the more serious words I had still not given up on emitting in private. Erstwhile no one would acknowledge the “effectiveness” of the torture that had been prescribed. Mandatory injections of paliperidone every twenty eight days, still, are parallel with the use of antipsychotics in, but not necessarily limited to, the former Soviet Union- as torture agents. I’ve suffered years of extra-pyramidal side effects; intended effects, that derail my life and chances of survival.

Other mandatory drugs since 2018 have ebbed and flowed depending on my compliance with wearing certain attitudes- such as being open to interrogation by one psychiatrist or more. Zopoclone, Ativan, Invega, Venlafaxine. Benztropine- the only pharmaceutical I specifically requested from them- would relieve only slightly the extrapyramidal effects of the injections, and this drug is still repeatedly denied with the understanding I must once again submit to a psychiatrist for that to even possibly succeed. This is compounded torture.

Martha Cripps and her team are killing in fast and slow poison; she called her tool “antiperformative”. I’ve been under chemical restraint for over six years, with a known habit of speaking- about corruption. I have no choice but to surrender to Martha at least every twenty eight days. My refusal to do so means a “certificate of non-compliance”, a police visit and “hospitalization”.

Who knows what and how will who decide whom is permitted to answer this question and disseminate that information? It isn’t Gomery.

“Does the Invega help?”, asks Melissa at 91 Duke Street (You’re not allowed to protest there; it’s against the law).

“Yes” = I must need Invega

“No” = I must need more Invega

Silence would lead to Invega and involuntary hospitalization, which is detention for maintaining silence.

Martha’s needle is driven painfully, intentionally, forcefully, legally provisioned, into my shoulder. Recently, and for more than the third time, she had proposed a further form of possible torture- Irving worship it seems; a trip to Irving lands- while the needle was deep in my arm and being pushed deeper. I winced and declared the usual- a wordless expression of pain.

On the occasion of seeking the missing paper mandatory drug schedule of 2023- whose absence seemed flubbed during explanations- and to determine what was permissible by the FACT Team, I was berated by Michelle Cormier Kingsley on the phone. Michelle is the “Supervised Community Care” program “coordinator”. Nothing to see here is rather communicated: According to Kingsley, my gratitude for them (“we”) lowering the needle to fifty milligrams, though now again triple, was expected. I hung up almost as quickly as possible; agonizing the beast is dangerous in New Brunswick.

In the hearing process, the “advocate”, coordinator, chair, panel members are generally initially laughing (and so is the Premier, I suppose). Some pretend to forget names, and become friendly within while they warm up the TV that will accuse me of rolling my eyes at [Chair Daniel Leger of Holler Law] while I am trying to read my defence- a rebuttal crafted the night before, somehow, on an airgapped machine that I hope doesn’t leak enough Van-Eck to have me slaughtered in front of these people.

In the penultimate pre-hearing interrogation, Cripps asks about my relatives in Ontario. I refuse to answer. Dr. Samir Taleb enters the room to extract her, and re-enters to declare that a new mental illness application is now in the works.

A fraudulent psychiatrist is given benefit of the doubt in Canada. If it is simply asserted that I am of limited capacity to understand an application against me, they win. I am likely put in distress- grave danger of having my life legally and vulnerably ended. Taleb assumed that he took control over my life decisions and Daniel Leger assured it would happen that way. The others smiled onward.

The February 2023 outlier of injections, performed on Duke Street by “Anna” of the “Early Parapsychosis Program” was a thirty-two day bedstruck death ride I’ll describe as being quantumly paired with a nuclear warhead while witnessing my own vivisection.

I am not a broken window: “Poor life history” is the purported cause of continuing to drag a whistleblower to death.

The Senate is largely this year responsible for planned homicide, regardless of the three-year extension on psychiatric MAID. I have known the feeling of not desiring the given life, but certainly not as I pray.. Political mastery like this is the cause of my distress, and their solution, not mine. No to MAID in all forms and explicitly no to psychiatric MAID!

Only the Irving companies- satan’s breath and an affront to Canada and its sacred democracy- should be committed to the deepest grave.

Ron Robertson’s empire is in ruin because of his actions.

The Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers: genocide; chronic environmental psychopathy; attempted annihilation of governments.

Former National Energy Board Chair Lynne Mercier, who rode a bicycle to the office and lamented the documentary Last Call at The Oasis, stated, “When the pipeline is approved, “…

Colloquially, perhaps the more aforementioned have had their day in coup.

God controls the weather and so does carbon dioxide, as does the multitude of pollutants in Canada- I don’t care about the conservative party. They placed me and countless other Canadians in hell.

I pray for the avoidance of war without compromise.. We have starcraft and deepfakes and the news that may.

Irving Oil ruins nature and its bounty of trees, as does Esso and all other parties responsible for greenhouse gases and other equally deplorable emissions of pollution. Atmospheric greenhouses gases, which are already overabundant, command, in absentia, a far-beyond-equivalent of the lifesaving elimination of all pollution and the act of its emission, which should not be confused with the other necessity of atmospheric GHG concentrations merely falling by more than a few percent. Earth’s remaining ice melts and organisms otherwise have been long suffocating. The act of reducing emissions can take us to zero- fossil fuels end today.

Concommitant is the removal of mercury, lead, persistent pollutants, vast classes of. if not most, pesticides, proven-to-be-toxic synthetic fragrances- which also likely encompasses most if not all of them. Furthermore, imperative is the removal of Agent Orange from the entirety of the Earth.

The arboreal in New Brunswick and Maine which hasn’t burst into flames is coveted and considered free or even less than free, for the taking. by Irving kin who have already sacrificed many our sailors to mere sheets of paper designs of military vessel, in the most treacherous irony.

End 4D North- and involuntary antipsychotics. They’re of a fascist toolset and they hide in warfare and panic- Tell men not to fall for this!

Giving up not what society is else doing- the other things that woo less than a suicide gavel, is what ends many kinds of war.

It is imperative to end petroleum and to officially end Irving- both are full fraud. Fraudulent expressions of supposed tax pain over Canada’s highways while oil ruins every raindrop from heaven. What kind of water can one only survive drinking?

Fossil fuels are done and I believe in each of my statements.

End New Brunswick Form 1 and 4DN- Charge Samir Taleb, Pamela Forsythe, Alan Fostey, Dr. Moorti, Dr. Claude Botha, Daniel Leger, Martha Cripps, and nurse Melissa with the betrayal of Canada’s own glasnost -demonstrably corrupt and inexcusable interventions that have sought to ruin Jeff’s life and the voting public.

I am asking all friends and peers, as well as Canadian and international judiciary, to immediately remove Premier Blaine Higgs from office, and for the determination of what is known to him, and to determine the entirety of his responsibility and the responsibly of any other party. I would not -and seek not to be in the position of- hiring the ex-CFO of Irving Oil to be safeguarding New Brunswickers either four years past or any time in the future.

I humbly and respectfully invite Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to comment on Blaine Higgs’ administration in its delivery of whistleblower suppression and bodily harm, and on all criminal activity undertaken by the Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers, specifically of Schultz, and of Daniel Leger and Holler Law; whether the Prime Minister expects Mr. Higgs to return to Irving, and if the Government of Canada expects to be plaintiff or a defendant at the International Criminal Court.

In its benedict, an especially troubling queue: The beach is across the age

A forest intact feeds fish, their caretakers, and one’s own catecholamines

Take Communion and befriend

Let I be nothing but the love I sent in Christ

My home will unfail

🐟

Jeffery