Showing posts with label giving blood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label giving blood. Show all posts

Monday 16 January 2023

Unvaccinated Pilot Demands for Davos




Excess deaths skyrocket all over the injected world and not just in NHS triage choking with dying people from vaccine injuries. A billionaire doesn't need their pilot slumped over the controls and thus their insurance policies insist the healthier unvaccinated pilots are mandated. 

Nobody likes to have avoidable losses, except the brainwashed who are the least qualified to interrogate their own opinions.

Should Airlines be obliged to state if their pilot(s) are juiced or pureblood to their normal commercial passengers? Or does a sunshine break plane have to nosedive before coach classes get pissed and commence throwing furniture around, or whatever holidaymakers do when at the end of their tether.

Asking for a Granny Killer

Wednesday 7 December 2022

The Swiss & NHS Operating Theatres







ACT ONE

I was in a lot of pain and started taking Ibuprofen which always works a treat with me but as the days rolled by, then weeks I was taking them every four hours and towards the end they lost all efficacies. I started taking 2 Paracetemol, then 2 hours later 2 Ibuprofen - It is 2022 after all.

Four weeks into that regime and nothing was working and so I found a stashed antibiotic and necked that. It really helped for a couple of hours. A month of putting things off and I finally conceded I'd have to go to the Emergency Treatment Centre at the local hospital. They used to call it the walk-in clinic but if you ever been to one, 8 out of 10 cats have foot injuries, so it needed a rebrand from a somewhat limp name as it were.

So, I tipped-up at the ETC and as usual the waiting room was full of the rejects from Lourdes. I wasn't looking forward to a few hours with more miserable people, one of whom, naturally I considered to be myself. I approached the counter, and as I was wincing a bit I kind of had my spiel ready for the receptionist so there wouldn't be too many questions. I said my piece and she directed me to sit down in the waiting area with the rest of the crippled and maimed.

I'd barely sat down, when a voice came over the Tanoy (is that the right word? maybe 'speaker' so the youngsters can understand) "requesting Mr. Frith to report to Triage".

As I got up, I felt the entire waiting room's eyes outraged at my priority treatment, but they'd all heard my pitch and I asked for no preference, so I lurched forwards looking straight-ahead to keep the guilt concealed, but everybody knew.

Inside I was dealt with by a competent professional who was more worried I'd poisoned myself and ordered me a taxi for tests at Emergency in the General Hospital.

Living as a beach-bum in Asia I'd learned to sort out meds for myself on a shoestring budget as often, the important ones are available over the counter. This entire fuss could have been handled with antibiotics and a codeine prescription. Instead, it ended nearly three days later, and I'm ashamed to say, at considerable unnecessary cost to taxpayers.

ACT TWO

After getting trolleyed in A&E I was warned it would be a long wait. 

It was 6-9 hours punctuated by a 30ish but slight of frame, Indian nurse who came and held my arm.

It was both intimate, in a mammalian sense, perfectly soothing. How much cheaper health care will be when the value of a healing touch returns?

4 or 5 hours into the big wait, I knew I was being toyed with, so I sat up and pulled out the plastic Cannula in my arm. Bad move, blood started spurting everywhere, and so my escape was stymied by mopping the floor first with tissue.

I made it out. Ordered an UBER and sat down for a puff on the pipe.

A couple of security guys came out looking for me.

Are you Charles Frith?

The taxi pulled up, "no that's not my name I replied". 

Another guard turned up so that made it three security guards for an escapee patient. Heavy handed I thought.

I submitted in the end. 

It was out of embarrassment. I was fighting off all three guards in another man's taxi-carriage and means-of-living. So, I got out, and they nearly frogmarched me back to those boosters y'all used to love, but have since gone off... but which they were gagging to squeeze into me (how I handled that is classified).

After A&E I got the royal treatment again. King Charles, while not impressed, mentioned it was notable.

The guards checked me into a first-class Kubrick COVid Ward in white, then red and black. The receptionist had one of those 2001 head-encasing oxygen suits from Space Odyssey, and yeah, I get a bit triggered by Kubrick, but only in an enthusiastic manner as I've laid out many times before, under the Kubrick tag my friend.

I met a 32-year-old on blood thinners.

His life of drumming for a band [and Football career] all over due to the vaccine. He was great, he made an effort to talk to everyone on the VIP ward the systematic service had just misattributed myself into. I tried to be as candid with him as possible, therefore we talked about much more than myocarditis now scrubbed from the NHS website (and Pericarditis too).

On my life the night-ward Dr spent hours trying to get me more permanent relief than painkillers. I never asked for that, but it was a Promethean attempt at leaping bureaucratic hurdles, I heard every call. She protected me, a Muslim woman protecting an unknown Occidental fella, for hour after hour. Tell me there isn't bravery in the world. Even in the heights of Southampton.

It's not easy to reassemble, as warp-speed space and time, and more, play with the senses. As you well know...

I was awoken by a medical Dr/Teacher and his eager student faces. The smell of warm, freshly baked bread is far superior to smelling salts. I was fully engaged, and then heard him diagnosing me as type 3c.

I'd mentioned it to my GPs but none had any expertise, so my cursory research on the subject was dismissed. 

Not through malice, but through ignorance. There's no bitterness. That's a promise. This is now about pragmatism not driving the rear-view mirror

ACT THREE

I was trolleyed through the hospital corridors for what seemed an age in the dead-stillness of the Neon light.

Hushed tones
Sleeping beds
Whispered requests
Procrastination
Security Guards
Redress

My new Homies. I was in the Neurological ward.

None of us awoke at the same time when morning arrived, but the dawn light had risen, and eventually we commenced amiable conversation. 

Two beds with faces and the soles of their feet facing me. One bed curtained off to my immediate right. 

Windows to the left.

Mr Fawley directly opposite was most hospitable and we chatted about our lives while recuperating... from the very stories that had brought us together. We discussed eclipses and the introduction of light and its withdrawal. Eventually we touched on movies and Masterful Matey to the right chipped in that he liked war movies.

I asked him if he knew that Audy Murphy was the most decorated soldier of WWII?

No, he replied. What film was that?


He asked me if I knew the Latin for Mi Casa es su Casa. I said I thought there was a secret-society similar-story of sharing-meals idiom?

We bonded
Later on, he got his cock out for the bed I haven't mentioned.
He put him down in front of me.
It was a brotherly act
I told you we bonded.

The discharge nurse tried spitefully hard to cut my arm off with the replacement Canula before I bailed out. I swallowed the pain and pretended it was nothing. Why give her the satisfaction. Medical professional my arse. More like resident Satanist.

Nevertheless, that afternoon, I was untouchable. I'm not always untouchable, but when I am I can walk across hot coals like the rest of them.

I caught a taxi home carry a fivers worth of codeine, the antibiotics arrived a little late, but they're stored for a rainy day.

(I'll add the Swiss Intel anecdote later/still ongoing)

Sunday 30 October 2022

The Clot Thickens























The pale clot structures are simply the wet blood clots laid out to dry and loosened free of the blood residue as they're so unusual morticians, phlebotomists and undertakers can only speculate what they're related to, with the number one suspect of graphene oxide/hydroxide in the injections. They are nano structures which are capable of self-assembly. There are a few TED talks on the subject.

I don't endorse the documentary maker of the clip embedded above. He's sharp but rose too quickly and his merchandise pitch is just another Alex Jones template. No good can emerge from it.

That said, I endorse all the content in the trailer specifically, and can corroborate everything that is said and more. Even the guy with his back to the camera. It's Dr Ryan Cole, MD Pathologist trained at The Mayo Clinic. You may recall I highlighted his conclusions on cancer-acceleration, boosted by contemporary therapies.

When a parent instructs a child on a course of action and is ignored, say three or six times, it's normal to assume the child is disobeying either purposefully or wilfully neglecting to prioritise.

...let's say you're in favour of the injections. You feel better in a world where Government, Big Pharma and Big-Budget-Media are sincere about their intentions towards your well-being. It's seductive, it's a-lot-less-bovver than hovering over a tricky subject, unsure and nervous of plunging into the logarithmic pain/information curve. 

I get that. You take care of your well-being as you see fit.

Logic says infants and children are uninformed. The consequences are irreversible. Don't expect the injected to be sympathetic in the future.

Saturday 17 September 2022

Who Are The Archons





When Tears for Fears sang everybody wants to rule the world, do you think they might have been singing about Alice Bailey and the externalisation of the hierarchy?

Saturday 26 January 2008

Connecting Peoples

Earlier today I was passing that blood bank bus I've mentioned before when talking about brand utility, and I thought I'd do my bit and load up the People's Republic with some of my own juice as I had a pint or so to spare.


This nice Gentleman took all my details and loaded them up on the notebook.


And the nice nurse checked my blood pressure and took a sample to be on the safe side.


And I got on with taking a few pictures as the people on the bus were all the generous giving sort. (I don't count myself. I was looking for shameless blogging content).


And Bob's your uncle. No mess, no fuss, just juice. Which sounds like a line doesn't it?


And that was my Saturday afternoon, apart from buying some Stella McCartney's Adidas for a girl I haven't yet met, because I do that once in a while.....meet someone, figure out if I've bought the right size and if it looks like it will work, say 'here's something I bought earlier'.

Seriously though if there are any ladies out there who are really into this the Adidas 'Stella' the store on Wanfujing is doing 50% off and I can only justify buying the one item on the off chance of meeting a close fit, even though its easily the sexiest and most futuristic female clothing I've ever seen and it doesn't seem to be shifting over here. Its like Prada/Miu Miu meets Adidas. Which isn't a bad thing. Its still pricy but a half price sale is a fair chunk off. Go check out the current collection.

Sunday 16 December 2007

Branded Utility



One of the reasons why I like the folk at Anomaly in New York, Piers at PSFK and Zeus Jones in Minneapolis is because of their understanding of where our business is heading. Way too many advertising people are in a state of delusion when it comes to the overall efficacy of the marketing communications that we do. I'd argue that a lot of the wallpaper we paste up conveys a given amount of trust because there's an implicit cost factor when viewing paid up media space. Something along the lines of "If you can purchase that media space and come up with some reasonable production values, then you must be a reasonably reliable brand". That's it folks. We buy trust most of the time.

Most wallpaper is reassuring. If you're not convinced then live in a room stripped of it for a while.

So on Friday after a quintessentially self indulgent and non engaging advertising awards ceremony that almost defined how sclerotic our business has become, I came across a terrific quote on Dino's de.licio.us bookmarks for Robert Stephens, the founder of Geek Squad as saying


I'd be inclined to agree. However there is a momentum in the beginning of this third millennium for marketing as doing. The digital era seems to be ushering in a breed of young folk who have no time for crafted messaging and are intolerant of not getting the information they need in the quickest way possible. I've never seen anything like it before. It only takes a browser to crash a few times and the digital savvy young folk of today delete the free software as if its a cancerous tumour. What happens when Wikipedia or Google's new idea Knol start to do product evaluation? The kids who are mostly digital natives, only want the information and that is a trend that those of us who grew up in the propaganda age (frequency and penetration) of marketing communications need to think long and hard about. The middle path is marketing as doing and there are some great ideas that have been put forward by the folk I mentioned at the beginning, in posts over here, here and here. That doesn't mean I'm anti advertising. It means I'm against bad advertising and for good information delivered cleanly and with the minimum of fuss.

I got thinking about this because I just happened to pass a blood giving bus close to the Xidan shopping area above, and I thought how smart the location was and doing this with a mobile blood donor unit. Somewhere to lie down for 10 minutes and give blood without really interrupting the day, I wanted to donate myself but the nurses didn't speak English. Then I got thinking if Nokia was a brand that could get involved in branded utility activity like this, given that its not too far removed from the traveling roadshows around the rural and semi urban areas that are often done in the mobile phone category over here. You know, communicating a need and helping encourage trial and action.



Later on at Wangfujing I saw them once more. So I thought about it again. I mulled over the notion of 'Connecting People' and it occurred to me that there probably isn't any greater connection than the one being done in the bus above. Probably that's an idea that is too visceral for most people's taste but the notion that the way a brand speaks is the only thing that matters, is the gravy train thinking of 20th century marketing and it's coming to an end as we see people controlling the information they want and continued digital emancipation taking place. I'm guessing the half a billion or so people whose first internet experience will be via the mobile phone will be equally intolerant of dishonest attempts to be interesting as I find people like Sam, Charlie and Adam now are.

I'm sure this makes me seem like I'm taking myself way too seriously and I probably am, so in the interests of not disappearing up my own bottom, here's a couple of pics from last nights clubbing action. First off is Puff Charlie keeping it real for y'all in the White Rabbit China town Lucky Street hood. Stayin' tuff all through the night and standing ma ground outside.

I know Sam can do a much better Ali G than I can but he's not here so that will have to make do. It was looking well mean down in the basement of the club. White riot everywhere and even the bitches were packing heat.

I ask you what has clubbing come to? Seriously though it wasn't a bad night but a less hipper crowd than I was hoping for. The music was better than the previous Friday, and we even slipped out for some of those ace kebabs that the folk from the far Western provinces of China rustle up in the Sanlitun area. They are easily the tastiest meat things on a stick I've ever eaten. I also noticed some stuff about the affluent local Chinese that was worth hanging around for. The Beijing crowd are very much different from the Shanghai lot and I don't think it's reflected in the way advertising is created for them.