Wednesday, September 28, 2016

"We'll Shoot The Wounded"




Virtually every time any discussion starts about the need to learn medical care, and start planning for both acute and long-term care and management of people with traumatic injuries, some self-appointed Spokesman For the Jackassical Hordes steps right up, both feet firmly in their mouth, head lodged securely in their ass, with the cheerful support of their fellow-idiots, and opines forthrightly,

"We'll just shoot the wounded!"

No, General Fuckstick, you won't, and here, for the last damned time, is why you won't:

1) Clearly you've never been in combat, or likely, ever in the military. Probably not ever been in so much as an intense paintball fight, for that matter. Tale after article after book after interview, going back to the oldest survivors of the oldest wars, notes without apology that men don't fight for countries, ideas, uniforms, flags, or mom and apple pie. That may be why they join, but it isn't why they fight.
Men fight for each other. The guys on their left and right.
And the minute you think you're going to draw down, and shoot them to save your own asses, those same guys will not only end you, they'll cut you up in little pieces and feed your entrails to hogs and ants while you're still alive and watching it happen, because that's how combat buddies roll.
If you think that some major disaster or SHTF catastrophe will undo 10,000 years of human behavior overnight, take along some salt, so the pigs can endure the taste of your worthless guts, because you're going to be a meal for them, as sure as apple trees make apples.

2) The minute you manage to shoot so much as one wounded man, you've put everyone else on notice that you're a greater problem to their ultimate survival than the enemy, and they'll frag your ass, or shoot you in the back of the head, to ensure you don't get a second chance to shoot them. And you've gotta sleep some time, and probably have fewer friends in the tribe than the guy you shot, especially since you shot him.

3) The wounded have weapons too, so unless they're unconscious, and literally disarmed, they'll cheerfully blow your ignorant ass away if you try. So go ahead stud, you and your lazy cowardly ass go take on that fierce little bloody shit with a .45 or a grenade, and tell him it's in his best interest to let you sacrifice him. Let us know how that works out for you. The pigs are putting on their bibs while you think it over.

4) Nobody sacrificed the wounded before. Not in the current festivities, nor at Khe Sanh, the frozen Chosin, nor Bastogne, in the trenches at the Somme, or Antietam's bloody creek, nor Valley Forge, Thermopylae, or likely anytime since Thag and Og took on those Neanderthals over the hill. Despite the obvious lack of much, if any, medical care then, decades to centuries before anesthesia and successful surgery, or prospects of gaining same, exactly like you'll face after TSHTF. So if you claim that's your only option anytime going forward, or because the enemy might eat you if you stop to care for others, you're a cowardly sonofabitch, and everyone who's ever cracked a history book in their lives will know it. That will include the rest of your nominal little tribe. Feel free to illustrate for the class from historical records, the number of cowards who command anyone warlike for more than about the time it takes, once again, to feed them to pigs.

5) People have survived traumatic amputations going back as long as long pointy spears and heavy swords have been used in melee combat. Just because the sight of other people's blood exposes your terminal stupid, and causes a yellow streak to spread a foot wide up your back, isn't sufficient reason to out of hand decide that someone else's wounds are either non-survivable for them, or a threat to the survival of your happy band of imaginary cutthroats. People injured too severely to live will obligingly die, and without any additional help from you, in short order. At that point, and only at that point, you are cleared to go through their pockets, split their gear, and put them in a hole. Jump the gun, and you'll create nothing but insurmountable problems for yourselves going forward, ranging from well-deserved guilt over murder, to the anger of their friends, the fury of their next-of-kin, and the hatred of your and any other group, once any semblance of civilization begins to recongeal, as it inevitably will. If they don't have any pigs handy, they'll probably find a short rope and a tall gibbet for you. And then go looking for some pigs to feed your leftovers to afterwards. No point in wasting a banquet.

6) Something as simple as tetanus, right now, will kill you deader than canned tuna. So, five minutes after there are no more vaccinations, are you going to start capping everyone with a scratch, a blister, or a bite from anything from mosquitoes to grizzly bears??? REALLY??? And if you're not that stupid over that, the only excuse for using it for traumatic injury, or the likely sequellae of same, comes back to you being too afraid, too uneducated, too lazy, too unprepared, or simply a sociopath with a death wish. Tell me again why we need you in the herd when things get sporty. Your medical preparedness, IMHO, - or utter lack thereof - is a predictor of your ultimate value to any society, down to the squad level.

7) You have the time and means right effing NOW to start addressing the deficits of your woefully inadequate medical knowledge, utter lack of appropriate skills, and dearth of supplies. (The absolute lack of humanity or character is something that should have been attended to by your mommy and daddy.) We know that rifles and ammo are sexier to you than bandages and diapers, but laziness and stupidity are curable. If you have one extra rifle, but no serious trauma supplies or training to use them, get "World's Biggest Asshole" tattooed on your forehead, to let the rest of us know you on sight, OK? Because that's what you are if you've made no provision for everything up to and including amputation of limbs in your medical plans, since that's been a risk since before Hammurabi's time to every man worried about the consequences of a fight. And given the cornucopia of modern options, including knowledge of germ theory, access to antibiotics, and the entire internet of medical supplies yours for the cost of mouse clicks and a few moments if only you'd stop excusing your monstrous sociopathy and stupidity by mouthing such idiotic juvenile sophistries as "We'll just shoot the wounded, because we hate them, we're scared, we're too lazy, too stupid, too evil, and we want to be fed to pigs alive", there isn't any other tenable excuse for not preparing for things while you have the time and opportunity, that hasn't already been laid out bare in this essay.

If, after all that, you're still too cowardly, lazy, stupid, and evil to do anything to make reasonable medical preparations, do the entire known universe a favor, and simply STFU, because all you're doing is letting the rest of us create mental lists of whom to select to burn shit barrels, field-test suspect mushrooms, and clear minefields barefoot, come the day, while generally pissing off the adults in the metaphorical room.

Otherwise, man the fuck up, act accordingly, and get your medical preparations (and your ass, once you've pulled your head out of it) into gear.

There's plenty of time to care for the wounded. What there isn't, is time to waste on mollycoddling the douchebags who'd skip that step. Or think they ever could. If you're such a selfish asshole as to think people will care for you out of anything more than your paltry tiny IFAK of medical supplies, ponder the future where they'll all justifiably say, "Sorry dude, all you brought for yourself was band-aids, so once those run out, we have nothing more we'll expend on your care." And maybe, at least out of sheer self-interest, gear up.

Or carry one bullet in the bottom of your IFAK, make it easy on everyone else to the very last, and shoot the only wounded man you're ever justified in shooting. You'll save a lot of suffering, both yours, and everyone else's, I can promise you.You could even save time, and do it right now.

Many await your decision.




Monday, September 26, 2016

Takedown

h/t to Zerohedge.

Shrillary arrives at the debate.

If you're wondering about all that's going on with Shrillary's Healthgate,  here's a tally of her whole 17-year sickapalooza here. (And an earlier compendium here.)

CSVT, Parkinson's, and more, all on display. Like Custer at Little Big Horn, she's taking fire from all directions, and running out of options.

Which, not coincidentally, fully explains everything you've seen from 1999 to now, from the multiple falls, head injuries, blue glasses, goofy medical practice, tests, and responses of everyone from the brute squad of trolls who throw her into the van every time this happens, to the behavior of her family and her senior campaign staff.

Shrillary's not only ugly as a dog, she's as sick as one too.

Watch This Space


As my daily hit count logs attest, my medical-focused posts are a constant thing. The topic keeps cropping up elsewhere, as it will. I was even, a couple years ago, a small part of the effort to get an off-grid medical blog going. (And then my job and PC both crashed, and it took a good bit of time to get things rightside-up again, and others carried on while I faltered.)

Also, I'm selfish, as it provides blog-fodder I don't have to dig too deep to mine, and I'd hate to give it up, but don't want to make my blog only about that. Especially when it takes something like Hillary pretending to be healthy, or 40M Africans and one Kenyan trying to kill us with Ebola to pull my string and make me write repeatedly and predictably.

But I'm coming to the conclusion that it's time to make it a magnum opus effort, and probably not on these pages.

So if I can muster the time, resources, and energy to do so, I may spin off a purely medical-focused blog, and/or see if the old one I was nominally going to be a part of can be successfully resuscitated.



No promises, but...
It seems to be an idea whose time has not only come, but like grandmother's rhubarb crisp, just keeps coming back until it's done. I already get well-paid for my expertise IRL, so this would be purely for love of the exercise.



I'm going to have to ruminate on this, and then science the shit out of it.


>Le sigh.<

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Washington mall shootings: Another Presbyterian grandmother




After the media this morning literally shooting explosive diarrhea on themselves in efforts to paint this as the random actions of a certified US naturalized citizen(!), comes word that the arrested suspect is one Dirka Dirka Imawannajihad, formerly from the caliphate of Turkey,


which is only 99.8% Muslim, according to the current CIA World Factbook.

I'm shocked! Shocked, I say...


Perhaps the subject of vetting those "Syrian immigrants" will come up tomorrow night at the debate. If you're a fan of watching the annual Canadian Baby Harp Seal Roundup, this could be good.

Three pointer


Thursday, September 22, 2016

Where's Bimbo?



I thought she was "powering through" her case of Magical Disappearing Imaginary Pneumonia.

After the lightest campaign schedule on record, she's dropping events like crazy, and quite possibly going to cancel the first debate.

Curiouser and curiouser, hmmmmmm?

I'm sure she's fine, though.
I mean, it's not like her campaign would lie about her condition or anything, right...?




Sunday, September 18, 2016

Oh Dear...



I (foolishly, apparently) thought there might be some respite on this topic, but alas, 'tis not to be.

You may have seen the earlier viral video from Dr. Ted Noel,


where he took Shrillary's video indicators, and laid out a very cogent case for her having unrevealed advanced Parkinson's Disease.
(And if not, feel free to review it.)

Then, after 9/11, his analysis of the event she suffered explains why it wasn't pneumonia-induced dehydration:

(And it dovetails completely with everything I wrote last week.)

Well, Dr. Ted has yesterday given a cursory look at Shrillary's "health report", issued by way of cover-lying (the default mode for all Shrillary press operations, lifetime) after last Sunday's near faceplant at the 9/11 memorial. And shock of shocks, guess who's telling whoppers, and promulgating nonsense, while once again getting caught on the details? Watch it for yourself:


I'm telling you from a medical standpoint, his analysis continues to be reasonable, and highlights the judgement of a doctor with 36 years in practice.

It also highlights a candidate with more than 40 years' experience in lying regularly, continuously, and pathologically.

The wheels are off this wagon.

And if Trump watches Shrillary faceplant at the debates, and has the wit to say "There you go again..."


he'll be crowned Emperor on the spot, by popular acclaim.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Purely For Informational Purposes



"Cor, blimey, mates, ain't this a handy little thing!"

Courtesy of a lovely little historical website detailing the training for the British Home Guard, should the Nazis invade, we pass along a couple of absolute informational gems:
A good way of effecting dislocation and interruption of enemy troops is, if you know that they are temporarily resident in a town or a village, to put up some notices stating that the whole population is to report to any public office at some specific time, as there is to be a distribution of free food, etc. etc. You will soon find that a temporary panic amongst the enemy will ensue as they see the whole town or village converging on one spot. This is an ideal time to do any sabotage that may be required.
Of course, by no means should this be undertaken nowadays, with any sort of similar or updated subterfuge, targeting the Free Shit Army, or their gubmint enablers, on agency letterhead. That would be naughty and baaaaaad. So don't do that.

And always keep this fundamental rule in mind:
The main intent of a guerrilla band is the destruction and hindrance of enemy communications and supplies, and not the capturing of any specific objectives. Therefore the more the enemy is harried the more good the final result will be.
Harried.
An excellent and underutilized piece of vocabulary.

Perhaps it's time to bring it back into fashion.

Be good. Or perhaps, "more good".

And do, by all means, RTWT. Solely for scientific and historical curiosity, of course.

Housekeeping




For the literal thousands who stopped by here, or came back, for the last week's worth of stuff relating to Shrillary and her Magical Disappearing Pneumonia, humble and sincere thanks for dropping by.

Based on the skyrocketing hits count, which usually would've signified mention either on Tam's page, Ace Of Spades, or the like, I must've hit a wee nerve to get such interest. It makes pounding the keyboard worthwhile to get traction once in awhile. At any rate, once again, my thanks for your electronic attentions as I fling my digital poo.


As I momentarily pause from that topic rest assured it's not from lack of interest.
There isn't much left to say of the most recent of frauds perpetrated upon the American public by the lying she-weasel and the pack of varmints working on perpetrating her campaign for the presidency.

But I suspect her next handy "episode" won't be long in coming, and will happily examine it when that happens. All things come to him who waits.

But if anyone ever needed vivid proof of where things here in the
(f)ailing remnants of the republic are likely headed, or that "you don't have enough ammo", I can't think of anything quite as eye-gapingly obvious as the events of the last week.

Clearly, we've once again been cursed with living in interesting times.
Prepare accordingly.

But for the moment, it appears we all get an actual weekend to enjoy, for which respite we give heartfelt thanks.





Friday, September 16, 2016

Hot Tip For Drug-Seeking Posers



Dear @$$hole military veteran wannabees:

If you're going to try and sell yourself as a tragically drug-addicted PTSD-suffering veteran of the Vietnam War, you might want to either
A) CRACK A FRIGGIN' BOOK, or
B) Come up with a better birth certificate.

Specifically, when your date of birth reveals that you would have been aged 15 years when the Vietnam War ended, it's probably not a hot idea to try BSing your sad tale, laced with requests for more pain meds, by piggybacking it onto your tragic story of heroin addiction caused by all that heavy incoming fire and buddies blown away you suffered during your imaginary service there in such exotic places as Gang Bang Wang and Sum Dum Ly.

Especially when your nurse is a military veteran, with a keen lifelong interest in history in general, and military history in particular, and oh yeah, an older brother who spent the summer after high school ducking rockets on the DMZ in '67, and turning his parents' hair prematurely grey, until he returned home with all his original body parts and no extra orifices.

And you should probably ask for the hospital chaplain to visit you, to offer thanks to a merciful God on your behalf that it's both unethical, and against the best practices in the employee handbook, for me to give you the dick-punching you so richly deserve.

Save your Special Agent Orange resume for the other dope addict losers under your bridge. As a very wise person once wrote, "A lie is a poor way to say "hello".

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Mirabile Dictu!




STOP THE PRESSES!
CALL THE VATICAN!
IT'S A BONA FIDE MIRACLE!!!

Ordinary people, with a case of pneumonia so ferocious it felled them like a redwood slain by a woodsman's axe, who dropped like a sack of potatoes, who melted like butter on a hot gridle amidst the sweltering furnace of a 77-degree heat on a breezy fall morning in New York, would probably need at least a week's solid rest, rehydration, and antibiotics before beginning to recuperate enough to return to a normal job. Let alone the grueling grind of campaigning for the presidency.

But today, comes the news that Hillary - make that Hillary The Divine - has passed her first miracle, coming one step closer to official canonization in the Roman Catholic Church, in recovering from the fearsome bout of (we really, really, REALLY, absolutely swear this time, trust us!) pneumonia - and NOT anything else whatsoever, you got that buster? - and doing it in only three days!!!!

We're trying to remember the last time someone rose after looking so thoroughly dead, and in just three days, but so far, only one case comes to mind.

And hey, how about that additional evidence?
The doctor - you know, the exact person, her doctor, misidentified frequently as a nurse - who was standing next to her and propping her on the pillar when she nearly face-planted in New York on 9/11 -



has come forward to not just tell us she diagnosed Shrillary with pneumonia on the Friday before, but has conclusively proven she did, by producing the verifying documents that said she did that, and signed and dated by...herself!!! To doubt that kind of verification, you'd have to be a hater. And a racist. And a homophobe. And...and...utterly deplorable!

(Bonus question: If Shrillary is so HEALTHY, WHY is a doctor in constant attendance at her side, everywhere...? Get back to us, we'll wait. Oh, and where are the pictures of Trump's doctor at his side 24/7? He's even older and fatter than Shrillary, so he must need...What's that, you say? There isn't one? HOW CAN THIS BE???)

The last time we saw any proof this self-serving, it was Shrillary telling the FBI she wasn't guilty of any crimes, because she was sure she wasn't guilty of any crimes.
So this medical testimony at least has legal precedent on its side. Our calls to FBI Director Comey for confirmation were forwarded to the Clinton Foundation.
There is an earlier precedent for such self-serving "evidence", but it was just Eric Idle pulling our leg:
Funny how we keep ending up at the same account of the miraculous, one way or the other.
Coincidence, certainly.
At any rate, there's now no reason to doubt any longer the absolute veracity of the original second third story explaining that this was just pneumonia.

And we have the further proof of Hillary's superhuman strength in kicking its ass after a paltry couple of days of Levaquin and hiding out, plotting, and robo-calling like a crack dealer in need of a shipment recuperating at home in Chappaqua, away from those annoying press people and their nosey video cameras. Who else but the divinely chosen future St. Hillary to take a tale of utter incapacity, and spin it into the PR gold of superhuman ability to heal thyself, because VaginaPower! ?

All we have to stand against this mountain of written and verbal self-serving diarrhea, is the measley and weak tea of the video of Shrillary doing her imitation of the Twin Towers at the 9/11 commemoration, as confirmed only by your lying eyes.

So do we really want to put any faith at all in the countless episodes of bizarre Parkinsonian behavior, culminating in the proof provided by video shot by a lone cameraman on a grassy knoll?


While we're up, remember this guy from a few days back? The one outted on social media as following Hillary around with a valium injector?


See if you can guess who has disappeared from her campaign entourage, and ostensibly off the face of the earth, without any explanation whatsoever.

For the record, I'm healthy, sane, very happy, life is wonderful, the brakes on my car work perfectly, I live in a safe neighborhood, I never handle my firearms carelessly, and I'm really looking forward to what the future has in store.

And if Shrillary passes one more miracle after the Incredible Disappearing Magical Pneumonia, she can rightfully be sainted by the Pope. Which is a helluva lot better than a cheesy Nobel Peace Prize.

Usually you have to trade the family cow to get something like Magical Pneumonia. Instead, Shrillary traded away her Magical Pneumonia, and now we're stuck with the cow.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

When You're In A Hole...

STOP DIGGING!


From the NYPost: link
Hillary Clinton was headed to an emergency room following her frightening collapse at the Sept. 11 memorial ceremony — but detoured to daughter Chelsea Clinton’s apartment to keep details of her medical treatment under wraps, The Post has learned.
Secret Service protocol called for the Democratic presidential nominee to be rushed to a state-designated Level I Trauma Center in the wake of her Sunday-morning health crisis, sources said. In Manhattan, that would be Bellevue Hospital.
But a campaign operative, in a move that might have risked the candidate’s health, decided to change course to avoid having Clinton seen by doctors, nurses and other medical workers who could leak details to reporters, according to a source.
In addition, Clinton’s van was supposed to be escorted by an NYPD detail, but the Secret Service whisked her away from Ground Zero before cops could accompany her, another source said.
So the decision to
1) endanger Clinton's health
2) break Secret Service protection protocol
3) ditch the cops
4) duck an actual ER, with independent doctors, nurses, and staff
5) avoid at all costs an independently verified diagnosis of pneumonia, or any possible credible refutation of same

was made by a Clinton campaign staffer, as Shrillary lay lethargic in the van!?!

Of course, once that came out, the staff (that would be the same staff that already lied twice about her alleged condition, and concocted and disseminated the fraudulent narrative for an hour and a half past Sunday's unplanned disclosure to the known world) issued a contradiction immediately:

Campaign spokesman Glen Caplin said the Clinton team “disputed the account” and released a statement saying:
“As soon as she got into the vehicle, she was feeling fine. Her preference was to go to Chelsea’s. Based on an assessment of her condition and after having conferred with her physician, the staff and the Secret Service thought it was appropriate.”
Townhall goes on in commenting on the above:
Fallon also said that Clinton was running around Chelsea's apartment, playing with her grandchildren. Fallon, Clinton, and Robby Mook have tried to convey this notion that while Hillary is sick, she’s powering through it, as if to diffuse the notion that she’s old, decrepit, and is…low energy.

So let's get this straight:
In public, with the whole nation watching, Clinton collapsed, and had to be stuffed into her purpose-built handicap van by a small army of minders and manhandlers.

But miraculously, seconds after receiving a jolt of therapeutic air conditioning(!) inside the van, she made a miraculous recovery en prive, and was able all by her ownself to decide to override protocol and common sense, and purposefully and thoughtfully continue to deceive everyone, while avoiding any independent verification, because rampant paranoia.

And was then, out of sight of anyone not connected with the campaign, cavorting like a doe in spring, all verifiable solely by her campaign staff and "medical" minders the usual and already widely-acknowledged basket of deplorable recidivist pathological liars and frauds.

So we're back to believing and trusting a campaign in desperate need of fire extinguishers and asbestos pants to keep their underpants from going up in smoke, and getting third-degree burns on their asses, due to a reflexive, rehearsed, planned, and lovingly-executed campaign of total unmitigated mendacity.


Or, we can all believe our lying eyes.

Look, pull the other one guys, it has bells on it.

One trip to the Bellevue ER would have undone the pneumonia diagnosis in five seconds, with a CBC blood test and a simple chest x-ray, and put Shrillary's paid quack against board-certified MD's in emergency medicine, radiology, and pathology, in about the same amount of time it took (90 minutes) for the total blackout of coverage or information, coupled with no IV antibiotics, and no IV fluids, just air conditioning, her granddaughter, and a metric fuckton of spin, to produce manufacture the complete and utter bullshit of a sudden cure for her implausibly alleged "pneumonia".

If everything we've seen, culminating in Sunday's total collapse, really was nothing but a previously-diagnosed legitimate (but not permanently debilitating) case of pneumonia, why did it take 90 minutes, in secret, to decide to come clean with that story? And why not simply go get legitimate treatment at a world-class ER for an easily diagnosed and treated condition? (I know! I know! Because Cover Story 3.0 is yet another fabulist whopper!)

And now, comes word that the Clintonistas will release "additional medical information", which will confirm that there is "no other health condition".

1) What additional health information? Hastily manufactured Rx scrips from last Friday? Doctored chest x-rays documenting the imaginary pneumonia? Fake doctor's notes back-dated to confirm the imaginary Friday diagnosis?

2) You can't prove a negative. A mountain of information, if it doesn't account for the noted and well-documented incidents, episodes, and medically significant observed phenomena, is simply so much whitewash. And hogwash.

3) If there's nothing further to declare, another blizzard of bullshit won't help confirm that.

4) The sudden and diligent desire, to screamingly entreat 300M Americans to "pay no attention to that diagnosis behind the curtain",



is rampant paranoia, and epic punch-drunk swinging after the bell, once you've given what was supposed to be the first second third and final, 100% certified true version of what's really and truly going on. Police interrogation experts call that "consciousness of guilt". Centuries before forensic interrogation techniques, even Shakespeare noted sagely "The lady doth protest too much." I simply say it's a trainload of bullshit.


The more they talk (and they dare not shut up about it), the more the campaign, and Clinton herself, inadvertently reveal. To wit:

> She, and they, are pathologically afraid of independent diagnostics or examination, that would confirm or deny her actual condition beyond all doubt. Which is precisely what going to that ER on Sunday would have done, once and for all. And as proven, they are all loathe to let that cat out of the bag.

> To be so paranoid, whatever it is has to be so obviously damaging as to hopelessly derail her candidacy, and of such serious magnitude that none of them dare speak its name.

> Such paranoia on its own, even - or especially - absent any deeper secret, is sufficiently disqualifying to ever grant her the office she seeks. Arguing that the reason no one wanted to tell America nothing was seriously wrong was because they were pathologically afraid of the Boogeyman/Bigfoot/a chupacabra, is hardly a ringing endorsement of one's judgement under such notably minor pressure.

> They are willing to risk the candidate's health, and destroy the trust of every American voter, to gain the White House.

> Shrillary is therefore probably a very sick woman, either medically or psychologically, if not both; and both she and her campaign, including her husband, daughter, and the sitting President, First Lady, and VP, are willing perjure themselves, and to sacrifice her health and possibly her life rather than face the music, or ever tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and let the American people decide whether or not she's fit for the office. Such naked despotic grasping ambition should and must be rewarded, even absent the truth, by a negative vote at the polls.

> Anybody remember the last time the Democrats closed ranks, and got burned so thoroughly by it in the end, when the truth came out?



I can think of at least one person who does.