Miracles in Modern Medicine/New Friends/My Lotion Strikes Again

Something happened this week that I consider to be a miracle of modern medicine, plus my skin lotion put another feather in its cap, and on top of that I'm thrilled. A few months back my mom, bless her heart, broke her femur, and she's been getting regular visits from PT and OT nurses. 

 I'm good friends with quite a few doctors and nurses, and over the years I've done lots of music therapy things in nursing homes, so I've met quite a few healthcare workers. It takes a special kind of person of course to do that work to begin with, but the people with this company, Enhabit, are absolute standouts. 

 I've already bonded with one of them, to a surprising degree...or maybe not. We bonded over our love of God and "natural" things. I asked her how she got into this line of work, and she said that she'd intended to be a lawyer and had completed two years of law school, but she felt that God was leading her to become a nurse, and specifically to deal with the elderly. I admired her courage for mentioning God in this day and age, especially not knowing my beliefs, and I told her so. 

 We started talking about the state of the world, God, Satan, the rise of the Beast Kingdom and such...the whole nine yards. I told her something that really surprised her. She said that it confirmed something she'd just told someone, and she was very pleased.

 I've mentioned before that "Truthers" and believers, and scientists too for that matter, all look for confirmation. In the case of science (SCIENCE) it's called "peer-reviewed research," which basically means that an experiment can be repeated many times by different people and still yield the same results.

 Ideally I want at least two independent confirmations, and the beauty of it is that confirmation comes from seemingly-unrelated things, and it comes when we're not looking for it. I doubt that this sister, a young black woman in her 20s, ever expected "confirmation" from a 65yo white guy, but that's how it works. 

 She came again Monday and we struck up another conversation. The subject of healthcare came up, and she mentioned that she was interested in learning about "natural" things, and feels that again she's being "led" into going into that field, even to the point of getting out of nursing. I told her I'd been learning about things like herbs and supplements and such for over 40 years, and that got her interest. She asked me if I could point her toward some resources, and I said absolutely I could. I was thrilled to be able to share information with her. That's my gig. 

 I told her about my lotion and she was really interested, so I gave her some to try. I was a bit surprised she took it, since they're basically taught from Day 1 that "natural" things are Voodoo. What they don't teach them is that ALL medicines...ALL of them originally came from plants and still do. It's funny...when people try to tell me that herbs don't work, I ask them if they've ever smoked pot, and usually they say yes. I'll ask them if they got high and they'll say yes, and I'll say "There you have it" or something like that. It's simple. They work.

 Another nurse came by today. This sister is a Caucasian in her 30s, and I really like her too. She also expressed interest in "natural" things, much to my surprise, and she ended up taking some lotion too, which made me very happy. She knows about Spirulina and Ashwagandha, which pleased me, so she's well on her way. 

 Earlier this evening I got a text from the first nurse, confirming her appointment for tomorrow. She said she tried the lotion, and it was already starting to heal a rash that nothing else had worked on. I was thrilled and bustin' with pride, even though all I did was to mix the stuff, and have the experience to know how to go about making it. God put this stuff here, not me. 

 I get off on helping people and animals, and I love it when it happens, and I've never once asked for a penny for all the stuff I've given away to people over the years, but from an economic standpoint, if I can get medical professionals talking about this stuff, who knows what might happen. They'll have to talk about it in secret and trust the patient not to tell on them, because doctors and nurses are being threatened with their jobs if they promote "natural" stuff. It's true. I got news for ya...the Federal Demonic Association is NOT about keeping people healthy...it's all about the Almighty Dollar, and if anyone thinks otherwise they should really do some research. 

 I can't wait to see my new friend and possible protege in the morning. I found her a couple of good books to get her started and I'm going to point her to Rhonda Dial, who'll be pleased to talk to her I know, and who can give her more info than I can. People in our lives come and go, but I hope we can stay in touch for a long time. I'd love to be able to follow her progress and help in any way I can. We both feel that God meant for us to meet. She sure is a sweetie and I'm honored to call her a friend, not to mention her asking me for advice. All those years of experience have paid off, and it's really awesome to see the results. I love making new friends and she qualifies, plus she loves my lotion. God is good. 

"To your very good health!" - Keith Emerson

Term of the Day: "Attractiveness Disparity"

I heard a great new term the other day- "Attractiveness Disparity." It was in the thumbnail of a vid that popped up in my feed. I'm not sure if the guy who did the video coined it or if it's a clinical term, but either way I like it. The thumbnail said something like "Did he [86] his wife because she was better looking?" It's an interesting idea. 

 The image illustrates it pretty well. That sister is, or was, pretty dang good-looking, while the guy is...well, I doubt he's a male model. I watched a few minutes of the vid, and in other images the difference in their looks was even more obvious. He wasn't rich or famous or anything so it does kinda make you wonder why she'd marry him when she could certainly aim higher in the looks department, but you never know. 

 Turns out it wasn't so much the looks difference, or the Attractiveness Disparity to be exact. He was a straight-up piece of shit, and a narcissist. He went precisely by the (imaginary) Narcissist's Handbook, trying to paint her as the bad guy and lie his way out of trouble. He lost, and is now serving time in jail. RIP sister.

 Anyway, POS narcissists aside, the term "Attractiveness Disparity" is a term I can relate to. With the exception of exactly one of my exes, they were all more attractive than me...way more attractive. Granted it may have not been quite the level that the above couple apparently suffered from, but it was pretty close. We used to marvel when we'd see some really hot chick with some random goober, but in reality that goober was me. 

 Let me think...Jeano, Beck, Lisa, Sheri, Sharon #1, Sharon #2, Kelly #1, Kelly #2, Kelly #3, etc., Paige, Steph, Julie, Maria Jose, Marla, Jill...well, I'd better stop right there...Good God...every dang one of them was way better-looking than me. How does that even happen? How did I become the very goober I once made fun of? 

 Was it my sparkling personality? Probably not. Was it my fucked-up sense of humor? It's doubtful. Was it my calm demeanor? Don't know. Was it my amazing body? Ha-ha, that's a good one. Was it Elongatus Maximus? Who knows. Was it because I played in a band? That was certainly a factor, and although there were times when I just couldn't resist some band aficionados, I generally tried not to exploit those misguided women who think that you're cooler than every other dipshit in the room just because you play in a band. Most of the women I dated I met outside of the gig, and I never told them I was in a band. 

 I know that all this makes me sound like a sexist pig and an asshole and that it was just about notch-carving, but that's not the case. It's more about bragging, to myself no less, because I'm a little down right now, and it is a real mystery how I did it. I can say that except again for a single one of my exes, none of the rest of them has any ill-will toward me, and I'm still very close to most of them.

 Jean, my first love, and I still have a lot of love for each other, and I think that's a blessing. A few months back I went to see a band and I ran into an ex. We sat together and chatted the whole time. She's an angel and I'm crazy about her. Talk about Attractiveness Disparity... It turns out that she'd married yet another narcissist, figured it out and is now single. If my situation were different I'd call her immediately. 

 So it seems that I've suffered form Attractiveness Disparity all my life, although I never really thought too much about it until I heard the term of the day. Heck, even Kathy, my first girlfriend way back in kindergarten, was a lot cuter than me. Sheri, the first girl I knew in the biblical sense was a model. She reminded me a lot of Goldie Hawn, with maybe a bit of Terry Garr thrown in. Sharon, my fifth-grade girlfriend could've had her own TV show. She friended me on fb some years back, and she's still gorgeous. 

 I really do have a bad case of AD, but at the end of the day I got the girl, for a while anyway, and I guess that counts for something. Actually I think it's a blessing...they say that in Tennis, learning to play an instrument or any number of things, you should always try to play with people who are better than you. For me that's never been an issue but it's true...you get better because you have to work harder to keep up with better players. Maybe being with better-looking women made me up my game...who knows? Who cares? It's all good.

 

 
 

Quote of the Day

"I used to say that my music was influenced by the Beatles. Now I say that it was influenced by Tavistock." - Mike Williams, aka the Sage of Quay on YT
 

Quote of the Day

"God is real and the Devil is real. Pick your side before it's too late." - Crunchy Black, of 666 Mafia
 

I Didn't Know You Sang that Song, Willie

One tune that plays on my mental jukebox a lot is You make Me Crazy by Todd Rundgren. As one might guess it's about a woman. It tells about a guy going nuts waiting to hear from his girlfriend, who never shows up or calls. We've all been there, right? 

 The verses have a jerky, menacing and paranoid feel that fits the lyrics perfectly. There's a break on the chorus, which switches to a more major-key feel. The other day I had a hankering to hear it again, and not just in my head, so I searched it on YT. I found a live version I'd never heard before so I clicked.

 The thumbnail showed my boy John "Willie" Wilcox, long-time drummer in Todd's band Utopia, singing while playing drums. I knew he sang backup and has a nice voice, but when I saw the video, much to my surprise he was singing lead. It sounded a little like Todd singing, but Todd can change his voice in a number of ways. I thought maybe Todd was letting him sing it live but Todd had sung it on the record, but it's all Willie.

 Not only did he sing it on the record but he also wrote it. Learn something new every day. It was cool of Todd to put other band members' songs on Utopia records. So many band leaders wouldn't hear of it, but one thing I really love about Todd is that as famous as he is and has been since the beginning of his career, when he gets into a band, he's simply another member, and not "Todd Rundgren and..." Granted, Utopia was often billed as "Todd Rundgren's Utopia," but that was only in name, not attitude. Todd treated his band members like bandmates, not sidemen. 

 That's so refreshing, and IMO makes for a happier and more well-rounded band. The last time I saw him, years ago, he was playing with another guitarist, and he probably took more leads than Todd. Todd was perfectly happy to play rhythm guitar and just be a member of the band. 

 All this time I thought Todd had written this song but it was Willie, which makes me love him even more. Willie is one of the drummers that I adore, but for some reason I don't think about him too often when the subject of my favorite drummers comes up. Sorry, Willie. I love you man. I also love your lyrics.

I waited all night

I smoked a hundred cigarettes

I chewed my lip 'til it bled

But the phone made not a sound

You know you make me crazy

What you do to me

It's a chemical reaction or an allergy

You know you make me crazy

You're aware of that

Why don't you come and put me away

It was a long night

I could barely keep my head

I heard a knock at the door

It was only Harry Jones

You scared me

The way you move in the night

Your face is something frightening

You're not so nice

 I got to see Utopia when Willie was playing his famous "motorcycle" kit. After I walked in I did my usual pre-show rig check, and when I saw what was apparently his drum kit, at first I didn't know what I was looking at. I recognized cymbals and electronic pads, but it just didn't compute until I looked a little closer and realized that it was built onto a motorcycle frame. It was so cool it made me laugh. 

 Wilie's drumming is very smooth but also very tight. It's not always easy to play super-tightly without sounding stiff or robotic. Willie was perfectly happy to keep a simple beat through Todd's more poppier stuff, but he could also stretch out on the "Prog" stuff, and no matter how he played he played with feeling. He had Rock chops, Jazz chops and Funk chops for days, but he wouldn't whip them out until it was time. Although he could hit hard, he had a nice touch and could play at a whisper if needed. He was very musical.

 I'm talking about him in the past tense but he's still very much active...playing, writing and producing, although I don't know his status with Todd. I just think Willie is cool in general, plus he wrote a song I love that I thought was Todd's. It's really cool to know he sang that song, not to mention he wrote it. Rock on, Willie!

You Make Me Crazy (live) by Willie Wilcox (Utopia): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ky0GQEGmrUc. 

 

Funny Illustration of the Day

This illustration illustrates perfectly the type of people I love to rag on- people who think they're Einstein, but are actually so dumb that they don't even have any concept of how ridiculous they appear to others. In this guy's mind he's a genius, and his ideas kick all other idea's asses. 

In reality however, he's a Feeb, and maybe about half a bubble short of level too. They illustrated this by drawing a Cymbal-Clanging Monkey in his head. I'm not sure exactly why but I absolutely love it and it makes me happy. I mean, I've always loved Cymbal-Clanging Monkeys, but I never thought about one being in someone's head. It's perfect.

 It kills me, and it says it all. The guy is really digging it, and that kills me too. The more I look at it the funnier it gets. Then again I'm delirious from lack of sleep, and I could use a good laugh, but it made my day, and I'm pretty sure I'd dig it under any circumstances. I'd love to thank the artist. 

 Uh-oh...fuck...it just now hit me that a Cymbal-Clanging Monkey is exactly what I have in my brain too. Ha-ha...it's true. Fuck me! Well, at least I can laugh at myself, and if you can't laugh at yourself you're an asshole. I can see it now... "Hi, I'm Kelly, and I have a Cymbal-Clanging Monkey in my head. It's nice to meet you." So, if you introduced yourself that way some people would run away as quickly as they could, and rightly so, but with a few people it might make a good conversation-starter. I thought I was laughing at all the dumbasses, but the joke's on me, ha-ha. Maybe I'll make a t-shirt. 

 

The Irony of Looking After Your Folks

I've been looking after my folks, just my mom for the last three years, for 15 years, and until my mom recently broke her femur and had to go to the hospital and then rehab for three weeks, I'd never had even a single day off, which is another story.

 When dad had a stroke 15 years ago, he'd been so healthy...still driving and flying his own plane, and even doing the occasional Architecture gig, since he never officially retired, and worked well into his 70s. Rather than put him in a home, which I couldn't do, I decided to look after him until he got better.

 He'd been so incredibly healthy up until than that we hoped he'd make a full recovery but he never got back to normal, so what I hoped would be six months or a year of looking after him turned into 13. My mom was in the middle of getting hip and shoulder replacement surgeries and had gotten one hip done, but decided to cancel the rest of the surgeries so she wouldn't have to be away for months at a time, so she sort of came with the deal. Lately I've been putting in easily 16 hours a day with her. 

 The irony is, besides the fact that some people don't consider what I do as being "work" at all, even though it's harder than any ten jobs I've ever done put together, is that if I'd been doing this for anyone other than my folks, I'd have been paid an incredible amount of money, and with a smart investment or two I could retire and live comfortably, which is as it should be. Instead I'm penniless. Let's figure out a rough and extremely conservative estimate of what I'd have been paid, shall we? 

 15 years times 365 equals 5,475 days. Although my workdays are typically 12-16 hours long, maybe more, and I'm on call 24/7, let's just call it ten hours per day, to make figgerin' easier. That equals 54,750 hours. Although I'd have been paid much more, and would've certainly gotten various benefits, especially as time went on, let's just say I made $10 an hour. Very conservatively I'd have made about $540,750, and it could've gone as high as double that. 

 Even with zero training in medical tech or caregiving I could've still done it, and if I'd gotten certified in CPR and such, which I would've done, I'd have made much more than $10 an hour. Anyone who's willing to cook for someone, do some laundry and such and be willing to provide companionship can get a gig easily. When I worked at the crazy restaurant we were located right in the middle of one of the wealthiest areas in the Southeast, and people were swimming in family money. 

 I was good at what I did and I truly enjoyed interacting with people, and there were lots of customers who requested me. Most of the families had older members, and they appreciated the way I treated them. There were several older people who had people looking after them who were very well-paid. They'd have hired me in a heartbeat. In fact I befriended several elderly people who loved the restaurant so much that they came in, often in wheelchairs, until they absolutely couldn't get around any more and had to be put in a nursing home, and I'd go to where they were and take them their favorite meals. 

 I buddied-up with an elderly gentleman named Mr. Parker. I'd dated his granddaughter Bradford. She was a little firecracker, and it's a small world. After he was put into the home, at least once a week after a lunch shift, me and my buddy Tut would load up his favorite meal- a bowl of Oyster-Artichoke Soup, a slice of Chocolate Chess Pie, a cup of coffee and a gin and tonic, and take it to him. 

 The first time we showed up was pretty funny. Tut didn't smoke but I'd gotten high as a kite on the way to the home. The staff was curious as to what we'd brought, so I started opening the containers. "Mr. Parker, here's your soup, here's you pie, here's your coffee and..." I stopped when I got to the drink. One of the nurses picked it up, opened it and took a whiff. "Whoa" he said. "You trying to get my boy drunk?" "No, man...just a little tipsy" I replied. "Well," he said, "I guess I can look the other way, but I never saw what was in that cup, okay?" he said. "What cup?" I replied. Mr. Parker laughed. Classic. 

 I could've sent them a bill, but of course it never crossed my mind. They were very wealthy and probably would've given me whatever I'd have asked, but that wasn't the deal. The smile on Mr. Parker's face and the gratitude from his family was payment enough. When Bradford's mom found out what I was doing, she told Bradford that she thought I'd hung the Moon. That meant a lot to me, and was worth more than any paycheck. 

 So, yeah...you do things purely out of love sometimes, and I never expected to be paid a penny for looking after my parents, but if it'd been anyone else I'd have bank right now. I could have a decent crib, the drum kit of my dreams and a nice van to take it to gigs in. I get couldda, wouldda, shouldda, and that "close" only counts in Horseshoes and hand grenades, but what I'm saying is true. 

 I really got double-whammied, because during these 15 years of working for free, I also put my life on hold, and gave up doing what made me happy, and paid the bills no problem, with plenty left over, but that's yet another story. It's funny...if I'd done this amount of work for people I wasn't related to I'd have made easily over half a mil, but since I did it for my family, I'm penniless. It's rather ironic. Respect your elders, and have a nice day. 

Yet Again, Shots Fired (Timing is Everything)

I've been keeping track in this blog of every time I've heard gunfire within a block or two since we moved in here, and it just now happened again. It's funny that not an hour ago I put up a post about a guy dealing dope right outside my door, and how this is a dangerous place, and then BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG. There you have it. 

 There were about ten shots from a small caliber weapon...I'd guess a .22 or possibly a 9mm. The first couple of times it happened I cautiously peered out the window, but now I'm used to it. I walked out onto the deck to see if I could see anything. The cops don't bother to show up any more. Who cares, right? It's just a little gunfire yo. I live in the 'hood now. 

What's Wrong with This Picture?

Ha-ha, I just noticed something funny about the photo I used for the post below. There's something very wrong here. I've cropped it to make it a little easier to see. If you've ever bought weed you should be able to spot it immediately. Can you see it? Take a look...I'll wait... ... ...

 Did you spot it? That's right...there are three $100 bills in that sister's hand, and the dealer is actually taking it, for that little bag of weed. Unless they're in the tip-ass-top of Alaska or somewhere where weed is uber-scarce, then either that stuff is laced with a gram or two of powdered gold, or that sister is a complete dumbass, which certainly seems unlikely. For the record, a bag of weed that size should retail for maybe around $30, not $300.

 Why would they even do that I wonder. I guess the people who set up the shoot don't smoke weed. Nice nails though. That's funny. 
 

A Dope Dealer Outside My Door

Well, damn...I've never run into a situation quite like this, and it's about the last thing I need. For the last few weeks there's a guy who's been hanging out on the stairs right by our front door, talking on his phone. I didn't think anything about it at first but then I began to wonder if maybe he's selling dope, and I just now found out he is. 

 I went out to walk the dog and as I walked out I saw a woman putting something into her purse and saying "Thank you." I was also greeted by a huge cloud of pot smoke. Ordinarily I'm the last person in the world who'd be bothered by a cloud of pot smoke, and in fact I've generated quite a few in my day, but this is different. He's not just smoking pot...he's dealing it. Usually people's business is their business, but this hits close to home, as it were. 

 Probably 99% of us have had neighbors who sold drugs, whether we knew it or not, but this guy doesn't live here. He's just using this part of the building because it's mostly unoccupied. There's only one other occupied unit on our floor and one or two upstairs at the other end of the building. The problem is that they were smoking 10' away from our door, and it might as well have been coming from our place.

 When I got back he was long gone but the aroma of weed was still very much there, and it got stronger as I got closer to the door. If anyone had walked by they'd for sure have thought that I was the one smoking. It's not cool, because surely there are cars pulling up out front, staying only a few minutes then leaving, a sure indication of dope-dealing, and all those people do their business 10' from my front door. Usually there's not a lot of violence associated with selling weed, but he could be selling other things as well.

 I was told when we first moved in here that undo cops sit out front and watch for dope-dealing, and since we're the only ones in this part of the building, if the cops do happen to be watching, it'd be natural to assume that they're coming to see me. Of course if the cops did happen to bust in, which I really don't think would happen, they wouldn't find any dope, but I'd just as soon not go through the trouble. 

 I thought about calling the cops but I think I'll sit tight for now, but if it keeps up I think that would be the best thing to do. This is a bad part of town and there are some dangerous people who live in this complex, and I know that from direct interaction with them. Several people here have told me that I'm a fool not to carry a weapon if I go out after dark, and again I've had several interactions with some very spooky people here, and I just don't relish the idea of someone dealing dope right by my damn door.

 They must've known that I smelled it when I walked out, but I didn't react or even look at them. Ordinarily I'd probably have smiled and sniffed the air and said "Bueno!" or whatever, but since I knew that a dope deal had just gone down I kept quiet. I'd rather not get the police involved, and I don't want to get someone in trouble if they're just selling weed, but I don't want a dope dealer camped out by the front door either. If it keeps going I don't think I have a choice but to call the cops, but I'll lay low for a bit. 

 I haven't gotten a good look at him because he's usually leaning on the rail and facing away, but I could give a general description if I had to. If I see him again I'll get a good look at his face. I'd rather not get involved. I wouldn't want him to get busted and figure I was the likely one who turned him in and come after me. That sounds paranoid maybe, but that shit happens, and you can't take anything for granted around here, especially in this day and age. Hopefully he'll take his business elsewhere, but he's been here maybe a couple of months so far. Clouds of pot smoke on the stairs? No problem. Dealing dope right outside my front door? That's a problem.
 

Joey Vs. Jay?

There's a good number of videos comparing the late and former Slipknot drummer Joey Jordison and the current drummer, Jay Weinberg. It's not a contest, and while you can certainly compare the two drummers, you can't say which one is "better." It's subjective and irrelevant. They're both mofos. Jay is the son of the legendary Max "Mighty Max" Weinberg, drummer for Bruce Springsteen and Late Night with Conan O'Brien, and Joey is the son of...well, Mr. Jordison. 

 I'm not really qualified to speak on this because I'm not an expert in Metal drumming, or any other kind of drumming for that matter, but from what I've heard, Joey had maybe a bit more Mojo, maybe a bit more speed and technicality, more impulsive perhaps...Joey was a force of Nature. Jay plays a little differently but he has his own thing; he's crazy-tight and he's the drummer I'd pick for a more conventional "Rock" band. A glaring difference I see is that Joey openly mocked Christ, while so far, Jay hasn't. Maybe it matters and maybe not. Maybe it's cool to mock Jesus these days, but I wouldn't. There's still time to repent, bro. 

 But no matter their sticks, licks, tricks or chicks...Jay wins, hands-down. He's still alive. No contest.
 

Spontaneous Human Invisibility?

I just watched part of a video by one of my main info guys, with the above title in the title. I've followed this guy for years because his info is solid, and mostly confirms the research I've been doing for the last 25 years or so. 

 He'll occasionally speculate, as he does in this vid, but he makes that clear. Usually he quotes facts that are 100% searchable and verifiable. This topic however requires some speculation.

 I haven't finished the video yet because it reminded me of an incident from many years ago that trips me out to this day. I did read a few of the comments, and there were stories similar to mine, and the people telling them are equally perplexed.

 Even with millions of reports of strange phenomena, there are those who'll say that it can all be explained by atmospheric conditions or whatever, or that the people were all crazy or high on drugs, but people who say that are idiots. It's statistically-impossible for every one of those people to be crazy or high (see: credible witnesses). I'll watch the vid again and read more comments, but he's started some shit with this video, and I'm glad to know that others have had similar experiences. 

 Years ago a mall called Century Plaza opened. They hadn't yet filled all the slots or completed all of the stores, and there were areas with paneling and temporary storage rooms. My buddy George from California and I ducked into one of the rooms to smoke a bowl...a Proto Pipe to be exact. The walls were lined with those rolling carts with canvas sides. We crouched down behind one and fired-up. 

 Halfway through the bowl a worker came in and immediately noticed the aroma. He was trying to find the source, and he was looking behind some of the carts. Finally he walked over and removed the cart we were crouching behind. There we were...exposed and busted and directly in front of him, but he never even looked at us. 

 There wasn't a soul around when we went into the room, so he hadn't seen us go in. If he had he'd have said something when he first walked in, but he had a normal look on his face, which turned to one of confusion when he smelled the smoke. He didn't walk in with a hammer in his hand, which he'd have likely done if he'd seen us go in. 

 Even if he were trying to pretend he didn't see us for whatever reason, he didn't know we were there, and seeing us should've surprised him enough to at least glance down at us but he never did, and the expression on his face never changed a bit. You can't fake that, and you can't suppress automatic reactions. It was as if we really were invisible. 

 I get that this sounds batshit crazy, but is it possible? They say that sometimes the most crazy-sounding explanation is actually the correct one, and we know for a fact that it's happened many times. I'm not saying that George and I became temporarily invisible, but I'm not saying we didn't either. Could there be a scientific explanation? Possibly, and I'll speculate on it. Was it something supernatural or paranormal? I can't say. 

 As I've said a million times, EVERYTHING in the Universe is created by and held together with a frequency. Without going into String Theory and all that stuff, the prevailing view of many scientists is that there are many parallel universes or dimensions, stacked together in 2D, just like pages in a book. Even though they're touching, we can't see into the next one because it vibrates at a different frequency. It's just like turning the dial on a radio and tuning in to different stations. They're all there together, but we can only get one in clearly at a time because they're tuned to different frequencies. Makes sense, right?

 BTW, if you don't think there are other dimensions, and I get it, you should check out a vid on YouTube where Geordie Rose, who produced the D-Wave quantum computer, talks about how it works. He straight-up says that while they don't know exactly how it works, they know that it gets the solutions to problems from other dimensions, and in most cases it solves the problem before it's even finished being typed in. Now that's nuts, but guess what...it's the truth. Google it, Dylan. 

 Some think that we can access these other dimensions simply by temporarily altering our frequency, and I can believe that. I think we've been doing that for eons. Look at all the crazy shit they built in ancient times...100-ton blocks that today we can't carve with so much precision, much less lift, with the best equipment. They've tried, and even with cranes holding onto other cranes they can't lift stones weighing half as much. Something was going on.

 We know that we can lift small objects with sound waves, and maybe they did something like that. That, or it was the giants, which I believe are also real, despite the Smithsonian confiscating all the evidence since some time in the 1800s. Look into Coral Castle, and ask yourself how that small man was able to lift multi-ton blocks of coral all by himself. Hint: it wasn't the tiny pulleys that were just for show. How do you explain a giant revolving door that still spins perfectly to this day, with the push of a finger? 

 What about the Philadelphia Experiment? It wasn't just a movie, in case you didn't know. If they were doing research into all this stuff, and they are, do you really think they'd tell us about it? You can either ignore this stuff since it can't be explained, or you can be intrigued and look into it, which is what I did. It's fascinating. 

 Did George and I (and the worker) experience "Spontaneous Human Invisibility?" I don't know, but it sure seemed that way. The guy walked in literally whistling a tune, noticed the smell, went looking for it, found it but then acted as if he didn't see it (us)? It makes no sense in this or any other universe. EVERYTHING  is a frequency, or a vibration, and I think we can tune into them. Just ask worker guy. Good vibrations to you!