November 29, 2021

Spinoza on the subject of trans-human AI: “There is still hope”

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 11:24 pm

     Back in the seventeenth century, a philosopher named Baruch Spinoza studied the many facets of Mankind — and concluded that all human beings are essentially alike.  We are all human.  However, even though us humans are capable of doing all kinds of cool stuff, we still can never grow tails like a lion or produce oranges like a fruit tree.

     Yeah duh, Baruch.  Boring and obvious stuff.  Yawn.  Didn’t Spinoza have anything better to do with his time besides stating the obvious?  No TV to watch?  No fast cars or jet planes?  Poor guy.

     But then along comes Klaus Schwab and his Evil Globalist Bastards, desperately trying to shoot us all up with graphene oxide and turn us into 5G-driven robots.  “You will own nothing and you will be happy,” according to Klaus.
     “But Jane,” you might say, “that’s all just a nasty rumor.  Conspiracy theory.  Misinformation.”  Maybe….  But….  What if it isn’t misinformation?  What if trans-humanism is actually the Evil Globalist Bastards’ actual plan like they keep telling us it is and we take them at their word?  Then what?
     Spinoza to the rescue!
     “No matter how hard the E.G.B. cartel tries to turn humans beings into artificial intelligence robots, they can never truly and totally succeed.  Why?  Because in the end, human beings can only be human.”

     Thanks, Baruch, for allowing us to be just a little bit hopeful — hopeful that even though it might seem like both ourselves and our children actually are fated to become happy robotic sock puppets, that even then, somewhere deep down inside the core of us robots, the essence of being human will still exist.

     Sorry, Klaus & Friends, but no matter how hard you try, some of us will still manage to stay human.
PS:  Philosopher Rene Descartes was all about being reasonable.  “Reason Reason Reason!” he cried back in the 1600s.  And thus if Descartes were alive today, it would make absolutely no sense to him at all for Big Pharma to put graphene oxide, a known toxin, into all its COV$D shots.

     And it would make even less sense to him for doctors to give Moderna-Pfizer-Janssen jabs to little kids who are in zero danger from dying from COV$D or to give COV$D jabs to folks who had already had COV$D or to pregnant women — unless of course Big Pharma did it all for the money.  Descartes would clearly see the reasonableness behind that.

PPS:  The philosopher John Locke also tells us that the sole purpose of government is to serve the people it governs.  “Government” as a rational idea is a good thing, according to Locke — but today’s Evil Globalist Bastards have kidnapped our government and are holding it for ransom in Davos.
And a bit of humor always helps:
Sophie’s World, a novel about philosophy that makes Spionoza easier to understand (but it’s still a hard slog):
James Corbett gets all philosophical.  Spinoza would approve:  The Great Conspiracy Debate on Grand Theft World

And of course Allison McDowell always nails it when it comes to nanobots in our bloodstream and other mysterious things:  Blockchain Keys To A Murky Metaverse – Interview With Bonnie Faulkner of Guns and Butter WBAI

As Michael Franti and Mazim Qumsiyah remind us, “Stay Human!”:
“The COV$D vaccine is a gimmick”:–3ozLiEo

This interview with Dr McCullough is on a right-wing web site but there will soon be no difference between right and left as we all start to fight for our lives against the EGBs.  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend”.



Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.

November 10, 2021

Dominoes starting to fall: America’s slo-mo slide into bankruptcy

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 4:14 pm


     “Our local dollar store just went out of business,” said my neighbor.  Oh, no!  Where am I going to get cheap holiday decorations for my front door!

      “Its shelves are now completely empty, but they were partially empty even before the store closed due to shipping bottlenecks.”  That makes sense.  Almost everything that Americans own these days is clearly stamped “Made in China” and a lot of shipping bottlenecks are involved between there and here.  We basically rely on China for our lifestyle.  Without access to Chinese manufacturers, we are totally screwed — but a lot of that access no longer exists.

     And yet even despite our heavy reliance on China, we are being constantly told to hate the Chinese.  Evening news commentators and online pundits are constantly beating their drums for a war between us and them.  But the American economy doesn’t run on Dunkin’.  It runs on container ships from Asia.  Declaring war on China would be like McDonalds declaring war on burgers and fries.  Economic dominoes have started to fall.
Sidebar:  According to Google, over four billion syringes filled with The Vaxx have already been administered worldwide (so far).  And where do those billions of disposable syringes come from?  China!  For instance, the JN Medical Device Company in Anhui, China, will only fill orders for over 360,000 syringes.  And also how come nobody at the Glasgow climate conference has asked where all those billions of disposable syringes are actually being disposed of?
     Then I went shopping at Trader Joe’s yesterday.  Five of the items on my list were not available.  The shelves were bare.  “What happened here?” I asked one of those friendly guys in Hawaiian T-shirts.  Same old story.  “Breakdown in the supply chain.”  No canned pumpkin, steel-cut oats or organic spinach for me.

     Next, let’s look at those pesky Nuremberg-Code-violating vaccine mandates that have also affected our economy negatively.  Hundreds of thousands of Americans are quitting their jobs rather than get vaxxed.  And the COV$D scare itself has cut a grim-reaper swath through our economy, right?  300,000 more Americans went on unemployment just last week.  605 days of being locked down for no scientifically-justifiable reason has devastated America’s small businesses.  A disease that can be cured by early treatment with Ivermectin and Vitamin D has pretty much cut our economy off at the knees.  Many more dominoes have fallen.

     And while we are busy looking over our shoulders at the COV$D train wreck, the Federal Reserve has just stolen nine trillion dollars from us after we stopped paying attention.
     But whatever has caused this horrific domino effect, where exactly are America’s economic dominoes going to fall?  And when?  How can we predict when these falling dominoes will sweep down our street too, taking us along with them?  And how can we protect ourselves when they do sweep over us like the legendary Galveston Flood?  Hint:  Don’t ask.  We are not supposed to ask these kinds of questions.  We are only supposed to gratefully obey or else be accused of killing grandma or being a Q-Anon goon rather than an informed intelligent American.
      Currently, most Americans have willingly participated in all of this COV$D craziness — because they are afraid.  And yet we clearly have far more to fear than just some nasty flu bug.  We need to truly fear seeing our economy ripped to shreds.  And what about that handful of evil globalist bastards who have joyfully set all these deadly economic dominoes in motion?  They do not even care.  And obviously Americans don’t seem to care about anything but COV$D either — as our economy is being destroyed in slo-mo.
Our true economic reality sucks eggs:

We are being brainwashed big time.  How to recognize propaganda when you see it:  How to Disarm Propaganda – Mark Crispin Miller on #SolutionsWatch : The Corbett Report

A patent attorney notes that both The Virus and The Jab were both patented years ago.  This game of dominoes has been in play for the last decade at least:

Winner take all and the winner is not us.  Sorry, you lose.  Tyrants win:
OMG, you don’t even want to know what is happening in Scotland (but I’ll tell you anyway).  In a fully vaccinated country, the death rate just went up 30%:
And of course Greg Mannarino always tells us the economic truth — but with a dramatic flare:

What’s Left?  Diego Rivera may have had it all wrong.  Technology might not be our friend after all:

And a real actual medical doctor describes the entire COV$D-slash-Vaccine mess in just seven minutes:

November 2, 2021

Booster shot after booster shot: If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 2:09 pm
     I’m about to run out the door to Walgreens and get my first Pfizer shot, my first Moderna shot and even my very first shot of J&J.  Don’t try to stop me!
     And then after that, I’m also going to get my first booster shot ASAP.  And the next one after that too — ad infinitum.

     What changed my mind?  What changed me from being a proud anti-vaxxer to becoming the world’s greatest cheerleader for Moderna?  Science changed my mind!  A scientist friend of mine said, “Our human bodies were never meant to get all those vaccines.”  And then, after re-watching that infamous 2010 TED talk by Bill Gates about wanting to eliminate a few billion people by use of vaccines (and also after watching The Invasion of the Body Snatchers on Halloween), I suddenly realized that Gates and his evil globalist bastard cohorts have been deliberately making interesting plans for us “useless eaters” for over a decade.
     Ya think they’re not trying to kill us?  First watch this video and then get back to me:
      Apparently, however, just one dose of their magic vaccine was supposed to get rid of all us Useless Eaters — and yet we are still here?  Que milagro!  Hurray for the human race!  Freaking resilient even despite all the gunk in those shots!
     Was it eugenics that kept us alive?  Survival of the fittest?  Guess we are all a lot stronger than those evil globalist bastards thought.  Their Plan A failed.  Time to switch to Plan B — give us yet another booster shot of that gunk and just keep on doing it until only themselves and their A.I. robots are left.

     But what can I myself do to stop all this carnage?  Little old me?  Apparently nothing.  Everybody in my neighborhood already hates me for even trying to act like Paul Revere.  “The Bastards are coming!  The Bastards are coming!”  So I’ve decided to stop fighting the inevitable and join the rest of us pod people — become one of the Vaccinated too.  Who wants to be the only moral person, sad and lonely, left on earth?  If all of the world’s useless eaters are gonna have to die off together, then I wanna join them and die too.  Goodbye cruel world, I’m off to visit Walgreens!

PS:  Are you depressed?  Bankrupt?  Homeless?  Hungry?  Unemployed?  There’s always a way out of your misery — suicide by booster shot!
PPS:  Once I get a couple of those shots inside of me, I will be like Father Damien, that priest who heroically preached to the lepers of Moloka’i — until one day he said,  “Now I am one of you too.”

PPPS:  Those evil globalist bastards weren’t so naive after all.  Some of them must have known that just one Jab wouldn’t get the job done, and so they were thinking ahead just in case –  at the very beginning of this vaccine frenzy they made space on our COV$D-19 Record Cards for at least four doses.

Halloween was a great time to watch The Invasion of the Body Snatchers — and then run out and get your Boo-ster shot!

That infamous TED talk:  “The world today has 6.8 billion people.  That’s headed up to about nine billion.  Now, if we do a really great job on new vaccines, health care, reproductive health services, we could lower that by, perhaps, 10 or 15 percent.”

Some vaxx batches are benign while other batches are killers.  Which states got the killer batches?  We may never know.  Or perhaps VAERS deaths were just under-reported in some of our states?

And our human immune systems are getting into more and more trouble these days.

Day 598 of this COV$D craziness?  We have far more to fear than just a nasty flu bug.  Our true economic reality sucks eggs:


Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.


October 20, 2021

18 months ago: Visiting New York City, the very epicenter of COV$D

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 7:51 pm
Editor’s note:  Here we are, dear reader, about to view a rough draft of Chapter 3 of my proposed book about traveling throughout America during that strange first year of the Great COV$D Pandemic.  “2020: My Year of Living Dangerously During the Lock-Down” is the book’s working title.
PS:  This adventure took place back in the “good old days” when travel was still allowed.  Nobody is allowed to travel hardly anywhere any more.  My next scheduled trip to the Middle East was just cancelled.  Why?  Because of the mean-spirited bureaucratic lock-downs of course — but also because no one there trusts Americans.  Can you blame them?
April 11, 2020:  Holy moley!  I’m leaving for New York City tomorrow morning at the butt-crack of dawn.  New York City — where apparently freezer-morgue trucks line the streets and corpses are being buried in mass graves due to COV$D.  Talk about being a war correspondent?  I’m going to be entering what sounds like a war zone.  This opportunity is just too good to pass up.  Plus airfares and hotel rooms are all super-cheap right now.  Might as well take advantage.
April 12, 2020:  After all this time, is it any surprise that I am the absolute queen of organized packing?  And at exactly 4:45 am, I hauled my suitcase and laptop and purse and box lunch and cup of hot tea out into the dark and damp streets of Berkeley, only to sit on the curb for 27 minutes while waiting for the F bus to San Francisco.

     “Here comes the bus!” I said to myself — because there was absolutely no one else on the streets for a five-block radius for me to say it to.  COV$D-19[84] has shut this entire city down.  There aren’t even cars driving by.  And BART trains won’t even start running until 8:00 am.  Hurray for A.C. Transit!  Hurray for the F bus!  New York City, here I come.  But after I finally got to the transfer point in downtown San Francisco, some desperate and ungainly running after the #396 bus was involved — running down Mission Street in the dark, dragging all that luggage and yelling “Stop!  Oh, please stop!”

     “This isn’t a bus stop, lady,” said the driver but I looked so pathetic that he let me onboard anyway.  And it still isn’t even daylight out yet.  My three-day adventure has officially begun.  Go, me!  No Fear!  Except for the fear of missing a bus.
      You simply can’t believe what happened next.  I was the only person at the TSA security checkpoint.  Let me say it again.  The only one.  Unreal.  And now I’m one of perhaps ten passengers on a plane that should hold over 200 travelers.  How cool is this!  If only it wasn’t so sad.
     And here I am on the airplane, reading a murder-mystery paperback about a private security company that tried to take over America by creating a giant fear incident.  The fictional company’s name was Blackthorn — and guess what?  Eric Prince’s Blackwater company will now take over security for the current COV$D-19[84] fear incident.  I’m speechless.  “Life imitates art.”  The flight attendant also fed us some most excellent granola bars on the plane.  I even got two extra ones all to myself.
     JFK airport was empty.  “A city brought to its knees,” was my first thought.  And of course my next thought was, “Where is the restroom”.  JFK’s airtrain is empty.  Will the subway be empty too?  I’m just about in tears.  I curse the bastards who did this.

     At least the freaking subway had people in it.  And the streets of Manhattan had people walking, conversing and acting normal too — but there was only one hitch.  All of these people were the ultra-poor.  They obviously had no upscale places to go to.  No techie apartments.  No lounging around in jammies and eating high-end pizza on designer couches for them as they ride out the three-week lock-down.  Take-away from all this?  That only the dregs of humanity are now left on the streets  — and that America really has a whole bunch of dregs.  We just don’t notice them until everything else is taken away.  “Cry the beloved country.”  I have tears in my eyes for real this time.

      Holy cow.  I just realized that none of these poorest of the poor will be receiving any of that “stimulus package” relief money either.  That sucks eggs.  $1,200 would have at least bought them each a good meal and a roof over their head for at least one last night, sort of like when a condemned prisoner gets one last meal.
     I don’t have to go over to Bellevue Hospital and look for refrigerator-truck morgues to see the effect of COV$D on New York City.  All I gotta do is look at its streets, any street.
     I love my hotel.  Totally cool!  I’ve got an 18th-floor up-close view of the Empire State Building, winking at me, right outside my window.  And the room itself?  A high-tech modern design, newness and tile and wood and chrome.  Way beyond IKEA.  So I watched cable TV and then went to sleep.  Discovered the Hallmark channel.  Pure schmaltz.  Just what I need.


April 13, 2020:  Perhaps there is something to all this COV$D-19 panic after all.  I just woke up from a horrible dream wherein I’d taken a handful of salt crystals from an old baking soda box, added some peach pits, poured them into an old pressure-cooker, filled the pot with water and waited for it to boil.  So far, so good.  But then things got weird.  Horrid half-dead insects started crawling out of the boiling water, trying to get away.  Repulsive.  I tried again and again to kill their ugly selves, stepping on them with my feet.  Translucent albinos, mutants, creepy-crawly things with pincers and multiple legs.  Gross!
     But, in the dream, I did feel sorry for this one mutant butterfly, painfully trying to crawl out, with one large deformed translucent wing.  But they were all mutants, having been bred from the darkness at the bottom of the salt box.  And there was only one thing I could do in the midst of all this horror — one obvious thing.  I got on the phone and called Mr. Rogers.  And, I’ll be damned, he actually came over, sweater and all.  “Kindness makes everything better,” he said.  Was that the moral of this dream?  Do dreams even have morals?
      It was rather cold last night in my perfect little hotel room 18 stories above New York City.  I’ll ask for another blanket tonight.
2:00 pm:  Holy sheep dookie, what a morning I’ve had.  Well, actually it wasn’t exactly all that exciting — unless you consider that I did it all in a rainstorm with 40-to-50 mile-per-hour winds.
     First I walked down Broadway to Harold Square, then on to Union Square.  And, no, Soho Press wasn’t open.  It’s my favorite publishing house.  Rats.  All I got was a photo of the doorman shooing me away.  “They are all working from home.”  But the Food Emporium was still open so I bought a huge Caesar salad for later and half a rotisserie chicken for now — which I ate while walking down Second Avenue toward B&H Dairy.
     St. Marks Place was shut up tight.  Nothing.  Not even cars parked at the curbs.  Not even the Gem Spa was open.  I street-hiked down to B&H Dairy.  Fingers crossed!  No, nope, it was closed too.  But.  Coming to the Lower East Side without eating rice pudding is a crime against nature so I stopped by a grocery store and bought some “Kozy Shack” rice pudding.  Not as ethnic as B&H but who cares.  This is an emergency!  It was delicious.
      Then over to East 5th Street for even more Remembrance of Things Past.  I used to live here back in 1965 — but don’t remember those stairs being so steep.  Used to pay $28 a month for an apartment with a toilet in the hall and a bathtub in the kitchen-slash-living room.  Now all those rent-controlled apartments have been converted into truly expensive condos.  Sigh.
      At the nearby Ninth Precinct police station, I asked directions to the neighborhood food give-away.  “I used to live next door to you guys 55 years ago,” I told two cops standing in front of the precinct.  They smiled indulgently.
     “You walk down to First Avenue,” said one cop, “then left on 3rd Street for the free lunch.”  And, yes, there it was.  Turkey sandwiches, milk, generic Cheerios and carrots to be exact, being distributed to us plague victims by civic-minded volunteers.  At that point, however, the wind turned my umbrella inside out and it was time to get back to the hotel.  On the bus up First Avenue, I passed several hospitals.  None of them looked busy to me.
     More rain.  More wind.
     Now I’m back home, snug in my little hotel, eating salad and rice pudding and happy as a clam.  Oh, and I also went up in the elevator to the hotel’s rooftop garden on the thirty-second floor to eat there.  No fun at all.  “Terrifying” would be a better word.  A terrific view, sure, but far too much wind and rain.  Yikes.
      The hotel sent me up another blanket, a huge white comforter, so now I’m totally ready to hunker down and shelter in place like the rest of New York City’s elite.  But then I got bored.  Back to hitting the streets.  Getting wet all over again.  Using my little pocket camera to document this once-in-a-million-lifetimes event.
      Went off to visit historic Penn Station and guess what?  “They tore it down way back in the 1960s.”  Oh.  But it was still a nice walk.  Ate more salad and more rice pudding for dinner plus a half-glass of that cheap wine I bought at Walgreens last night.  What to do tomorrow?  I’m thinking perhaps The Cloisters?  Central Park?  That’s gotta still be open, right?  Maybe Bellevue hospital.  If I have time.
April 14, 2020:  And now I’m totally freaked out!  Couldn’t get to sleep.  At all.  The ghost-like quality of New York City still haunts me.  It’s now 4:00 am — and all I want to do is go back to Berkeley!  And not because I’m afraid of catching the coronavirus either.  It’s because of the images of this sad and deserted city — and also because of that creepy 5G.  Or something like that.  I’d brought my electromagnetic measuring-device thingie and it is currently flashing its red lights like crazy and beeping its little heart out.  But whatever is causing all this insomnia, I can feel it deep in my bones.  My ears ache, my body is tense.  I have a headache.  And, no, it’s not COV$D.  Perhaps it might be COV$D-1984 however.  I feel like I’m being slowly microwaved by the fear that electrifies New York City right now.

       In this fugue-like state, I can almost see New York City starting to die.  Soon, slowly but surely, I predict that people will start leaving.  Individually.  One by one.  Thinking of this or that lame excuse to leave.  In four or five years, I predict that NYC will be all but deserted.  The city that never sleeps will become a ghost town.  And it is with all these freaky thoughts running around my brain at 4:00 am in the freaking morning, that the hotel’s fire alarm system goes off!

     Screaming sirens!  Right in my own room!  I’m grabbing my passport, a paperback book, my jacket.  I’m trying to imagine how I’m going to be able to climb down 18 flights of stairs in my nightgown and bunny slippers — and my painfully sore knees.  Trapped in a towering inferno!  I’m panicked.
      I call downstairs to the front desk.  “It’s only a false alarm.”  Literally.  “Sorry about that.”  OMG, I’m still freaked.  A glass of warm milk wouldn’t be out of place here.  Or a homeopathic sleep remedy.  Or even a Valium.  Yikes.  Will I ever get back to sleep?  Do I even want to?  Will I dream about creepy bugs again?  Will it be all their dreams of creepy bugs that will drive New Yorkers away?  The last straw?  And where would they move to?  Sucks to be them.  Hell, it sucks to be me.
     Somehow I managed to go back to sleep around 6:30 am.  It’s now 11:15 am.  I’ve wasted my only morning in New York City where there is actual sunshine.  I’ve got to pee but am too sluggish to get out of bed.  But there is leftover rice pudding in the mini-fridge.  Maybe thoughts and dreams of rice pudding will lure me out of bed.
      Hey, it worked.
      Now let’s watch the news.  “If you can get online, you can apply for your $1,200 supplement too.”  That is, if you can get online and have a real bank account and an actual physical address.  Too bad for the rest of you.
     Hey, I got a plan on how to stay longer in the Big Apple.  I go get tested.  I test positive.  They put me up in a COV$D-designated hotel room.  I get to stay in NYC for 14 more days for free.  I’d do that in a (New York) minute except that I won’t test positive.  But now it’s time to watch a webinar on how to get unemployment payments.  Took me a full half-hour to hook into Zoom.  Voila!  Boring.  But it gave us lots of numbers to call, URLs to investigate and other bureaucratic information.
     But then I made up for lost time.  Harlem!  Central Park!  St. Patrick’s Cathedral!  The #M2 bus!  There were a hundred people standing in line outside of the Harlem Whole Foods — and I was one of them.  And parked alongside of the line was a highly-decorated food truck.  But instead of tacos or hummus, this truck was selling marijuana cookies!  How entrepreneurial is that.
      And I loved Central Park.  And loved the down-and-out streets of Harlem too.  I’m going to miss New York when its manic COV$D, 5G and techie craziness finally turns it into a ghost town.
      There is so much to see here.  I love that the African-American underdogs of 125th Street are still not caving in to discrimination, poverty and despair — to say nothing of the constant pressure from fierce gentrification.  Then there is the obvious contrast between Harlem poverty and the masses of European-American have-it-alls frolicking along the jogging trails of nearby Central Park.  You can’t hate any of them, either Black or White.  They all seem to be enjoying life.  Perhaps that is the human condition after all — and what, in the end, we all have in common.
     Look at me, getting all philosophical.  Am I making the most of my lightning-strike trip to New York City?  I guess.
April 15, 2020:  Five hours of sleep is just not enough.  I’m awake and nervous as a cat this morning.  It’s 5:00 am.  Checkout time is noon.  Looks like I’m going to be forced to involuntarily “shelter in place” between now and then while I sort myself out.  Crap.  There’s just too much going on in Manhattan for me to sleep, but now I’m a nervous wreck.  Damn, I’m so jealous of those people who can fall asleep at the drop of a hat.
      Yesterday, when my #M2 bus drove past Trump Tower, there were two SWAT guys locked and loaded and stuffed into full body armor, standing out front.  I wonder how much that is costing us taxpayers?
     Enough of this existential angst.  I’m either going to fall back to sleep — or I’m not.  Apparently not.  More TV.  Now the talking heads are going on and on about how people are dying in rest homes.  Duh.  That’s what people in rest homes do.  With a lot of help from Governor Cuomo.
     Did I mention that yesterday I walked past the “Billy Graham Chaplaincy” trucks and tents set up in Central Park’s east meadow?  “How many patients do those tents hold?” I asked a cop.
     “60,” he replied — but this emergency area didn’t look all that busy either.  And a few yards away from the enclave was a sad bunch of handmade signs saying, “These people are haters” and “We don’t want these haters here”.  Apparently the Billy Graham Chaplaincy’s offshoot, the “Shepard’s Purse” disaster relief organization, is homophobic.  Shame on them.
     There’s just all kinds of wrong going on with this COV$D-19[84] operation.  No wonder I’m in angst.  This thing is of such gigantic scope, who the freak can deal with it all.  So many lies.  So I climbed back into bed with some breakfast sausages from Whole Foods and another half-glass of cheap wine.  Decadent.  But, hell, this is New York City.  Decadence here fits like a glove.  Screw it.  No more going back to sleep for me.  Waste of time to even try.  And I still have one more thing left to do before I leave.  Time to get my arse over to the actual World Epicenter of COV$D-19 itself — Bellevue Hospital!
     There was hardly anybody there.  Ambulances sat empty on the street in front of the hospital.  The ER ambulance bays were empty.  The lobby was empty.  A security guard told me to stop taking photos and move on.  So much for the World Epicenter of COV$D-19.
     Up the street at another hospital (First Avenue is Hospital Row), there was a long line of 30 to 40 people in scrubs.  What were they lining up for?  Waiting for ambulances to arrive?  No.  They were waiting in line at a food truck.  “BBQ,” read the food truck but most of them were waiting to buy designer coffee.  Hey, I want some designer hot water!  I brought my own teabag just in case, but the line was too long.
     On the walk back to the hotel, I looked everywhere for a place that was open to sell hot drinks.  Nope.  None.  There was a Trader Joe’s that was open but its line was also too long.  61 people in it to be exact.  I counted.  Finally I found a small coffee shop near the hotel that was open.  Good.  My hands were really cold.  Ah.  I’m in hot water now!
     Back at the hotel, I even managed to take a short nap.  Ten minutes?  Power nap?  Sure.  Now I’m sitting in Row 10, Seat A of my airplane.  No food service, no one in the TSA security checkpoint but me, no luck getting my wi-fi hooked up at the airport — but I’m here!  On my way home!  Living on stale Clif Bars that I scored from the 13 Reasons Why craft services snack table six months ago, back when they were still making films.

      But I’ve had a fabulous adventure — and I’m not gonna starve between JFK’s Gate 5 and south Berkeley, right?  But then it turns out that my freaking journey home is still gonna go on and on and on and on.  First I waited an hour for a bus to take me to JFK.  Then a really long plane ride with a boring transfer in Chicago.  Waiting for another bus outside the San Francisco airport.  In the dark nighttime.  Out in the freaking cold nighttime weather.  This is taking forever.  “How much does a taxi to Berkeley cost?”

     “$80.”  Oh.  So I waited and waited some more.  Out in the cold.  Finally a bus to downtown San Francisco arrived.  And now I’m still waiting in downtown S.F.  Opened my suitcase, pulled out an extra pair of pants and put them on too.  Right in the middle of the bus terminal.  At midnight.  3:00 am, New York time.  Who knew I could be this resilient, living on granola bars for the last ten hours.  If I don’t get COV$D-19 after tonight, then I’ll know that we are being lied to for sure!
     But, hell, I’ve also been to Bellevue Hospital, the world’s Ground Zero for COV$D — with no serious side effects from that either.  So far so good.  And I still have one more Kind bar left too.  I shoulda taken that cab.
April 16, 2020:  It’s 2:30 am here in Berkeley!  I finally made it home, but it was never at any point a sure thing.  Caught the last bus of the night from the airport to San Francisco.  A long wait at the Trans-Bay terminal.  Finally the very last night-bus to Berkeley arrived.  Next question?  Do I have time for a hot bath before I pass out?
How does Dr. Merrick even do this?  Gives you everything you need to know about COV$D in record time:
And how to say “Yes, but…” to the vaxx:
And if you need any advice regarding your legal rights in a time of COV$D, here it is:

Then there’s the systematic purge of any of us who do not immediately conform in lock-step:  “For the past 18 months, people who refuse to convert to the new official ideology are now being segregated, stripped of their jobs, banned from attending schools, denied medical treatment, and otherwise persecuted.”

October 8, 2021

Madam Jane predicts: “My new sci-fi novel will be a bestseller!”

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 1:48 pm

     “I always wanted to be a science fiction writer,” said Madam Jane yesterday over tea and pumpkin pie in her back yard.  That makes perfect sense.  She can see into the future.  Why not write a book that describes what she sees?  But then it would no longer be science fiction, right?

     “Here’s the plot so far,” said M.J.  “Some evil globalist bastards start scheming various scenarios on ways to vaccinate the entire world with some weird greenish-brown secret formula liquid that will transform us all into robots.”  Sure, why not.

     “However, they only have a short window of opportunity to do this in.”  Before Captain Marvel finds out?  “So they force, blame, guilt-trip, coerce and bribe everyone into getting The Shot.  They cajole, shame, apply peer pressure, brainwash, threaten and stampede everyone into getting vaxxed.  Their techniques are both highly effective and painful to watch.”  And probably painful to read about too.

     “But still their clock keeps on ticking, they haven’t gotten everyone shot up yet and time is rapidly running out.  They’ll never make their deadline.  People are starting to wise up.”  So what should the evil globalist bastards do?  “They put more and more pressure on everyone to get The Jab.  Pregnant women, babies, first responders, grandmas, movie stars, airline companies, nurses, Walmart, your best friend next door.  We all start feeling the turn of the screw.”  

     So.  Will the evil globalist bastards finally make their quota just in time to take over the world?  “I haven’t worked that part out yet,” replied Madam Jane.  Wait, what!  You’re not going to just leave me hanging here like this!

     “Sorry but you’re gonna have to buy the book.”
PS:  According to Madam Jane, we small remnants of unvaxxed humans still left in this world right now are not just some endangered species about to be wiped out by the advance of Civilization.  No, we are even more special and precious than that.  We are now like some ancient buried treasure — a living, breathing UNESCO World Heritage site containing the only shreds of “natural immunity” left in this world. 

      “And while almost everybody on the planet is now protected from getting a serious case of the original COV$D virus,” continued Madam Jane, “they all will be forced to get booster shots like clockwork for the rest of their short lives in order to protect themselves from the variants.”  But why?  “Because their new immune systems will only recognize the original virus — but not its variants.”  

       “But what if that life-saving booster formula is suddenly no longer available or is priced so high that only the evil globalist bastards can afford it?” I asked.  “Is everyone else going to be doomed?”
      “No matter who does or does not survive,” replied Madam Jane after a short glance into her crystal ball, “you few remaining unvaxxed humans will soon be the only living archive for our vast collective memory of what it was like to have a human immune system — one that took a million years to create.”  Hey, I’m an artifact!
PPS:  Madam Jane also predicted that Pentagon budget limits will be raised by an outrageous bunch of more billions ASAP — even though there are no more new invasions planned.  Whew.  I guess.

     “And the Federal Reserve will continue stealing trillions from us taxpayers at its usual alarming rate,” she predicted.  “Rest assured, however, that there will be no more paltry trickle-down handouts for the likes of you and me due to the COV$D scam.  But the good news is that the next worldwide disaster those evil globalist bastards plan for us will not involve germs.”  Money?  “Yeah.”

How many times has Dr. Fasci lied to us?  Let me help you count the ways:
For you science geeks, here’s more data about the dangers of The Shot than you could even believe possible:  Winning the War Against Therapeutic Nihilism & Trusted Treatments vs Untested Novel Therapies
Welcome to the 75th anniversary of the Nuremberg trials, Prez Biden.

And as usual James Corbett connects all the dots:

October 3, 2021

Courage, justice & wisdom: Aristotle speaks out on the lock-down

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 2:29 pm
     I love visiting old haunted hotels.  There’s one within walking distance of my apartment.  It’s pricey to stay there but you can always just go hang out in the lobby.  And that’s where I met the ghost of some old dead Greek named Aristotle.

     “Why in the name of Athena is everyone around here wearing masks?” he asked me.  Good question.  Then Aristotle launched into a long boring lecture on ethics.  “There are four components involved in being an ethical person,” he said.  “They are courage, temperance, justice and practical wisdom.”  Yawn.

     “Let’s talk about the lock-down instead,” I replied.  Aristotle’s ghost looked at me like I was the stupidest student ever.

     “Is it courageous for healthy people to be locked down like rats in a trap when you could be out helping those who are actually sick?”  Er, no.  “We should be giving them early treatment instead.”  He does have a point there.  Quercetin, HCQ, ivermectin, monoclonal antibodies,  budesonide and even food-grade hydrogen peroxide and Vitamin D come to mind.  “Is it temperate to spend 568 days hiding under the bed just because of a virus with a 0.07% death rate?”  No balance at all in doing that, sir.

      “Is it justice to lock down the poor, destroy small businesses, eliminate jobs and wipe out the middle class while wealthy globalists get more and more rich and powerful every day?”  That doesn’t serve justice either.
     “And as for practical wisdom?  Is it wise to allow yourself to get injected with a vaxx that has a 2.15% death rate?  It takes wisdom to say no to such foolishness.”  And courage too.  Who wants to be called a Trumper every time I point out actual scientific data debunking the plandemic?  Not me.

     And speaking of politicians, of course Aristotle’s ghost had something to say about that too.  “Politics should be the fine art of helping people become more courageous, temperate, just and wise.”  Do our globalist leaders and their puppets do that?  Hell, no.  They just run around screaming, “The sky is falling!  Trust us!  Give us your money!”

     And then in a puff of ectoplasm, Aristotle was gone.  I guess he didn’t like wearing a face mask.  “Come back, Aristotle!” I cried.  “Come back!”  Faced with a choice of political leaders between Trump the scheming bigot and Biden the arse-kissing pawn, we need all the wise people we can get — even the dead ones.



September 18, 2021

Here’s a scary thought: Were we better off when the Orange Man was prez?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 8:51 pm

      It’s painful for me to even conceive of such a horrible idea — but let’s look at the facts.  At least when Trump was in the White House, we had someone to hate.  You gotta give the Orange Man snaps for that.  He unified us all against him!  We formed “Black Lives Matter” and “Me Too” as a result.  We fought back.  Now, under Biden, we’ve been de-fanged.
      At least under the Orange Man we got economic subsidies to help ride out the storm.  Under Biden?  We’re not even getting those any more (the Federal Reserve gets them instead).  We’re not even getting unemployment checks.  Small business bankruptcies are becoming more and more common every day as Main Street is forced to shut down due to a virus with a 0.07% death rate.’Looney-Blows-the-Whistle-on-Covid:9
     Under Biden, we’ve been shot up and locked down, threatened with variants and casually sent to our doom because Nobel-Prize-winning medical treatments are now denied.  If everyone had taken hydroxychloroquine (aka quinine, that stuff we put in our gin and tonic) like Trump recommended, this plague would have been over 520 days ago.  Sigh.

     And now the CDC has pretty much stopped counting the vaxx death toll.  Their VAERS report, however, numbers the vaxxed dead at 14,506 as of September 10, 2021.  And according to a Harvard University study, there are many, many more unreported vaxx deaths.  What have we here?  “The Walking Dead”?

     The COV$D death rate in my hometown is 0.07%.  The vaxx death rate nationwide is 2.15%.  I’ll take my chances with COV$D!
    And in a statement before the FDA recently, an expert testified that the vaxx is killing two people for every one life it saves. His testimony, however, has been censored by YouTube.
     Our Marines just got blown up in Afghanistan because of a poorly-thought-out retreat plan.  We coulda just flown everyone out safely through Bagram airbase — but those dramatic visuals on the evening news would be far less sexy.  Where’s the fun in that!  And then there’s Palestine and Syria.  Biden, Trump, Obama and Bush all agree with the globalists.  “Let’s keep spending more and more money to slaughter every man, woman and child in the Middle East.”  But America isn’t alone.  Chinese communists also think that globalists are Da Bomb.
     And then there are the mandatory American vaxx dompasses.  Seriously?  For a “vaccine” that might kill us and doesn’t even work?
      But worst of all, President Biden has sold his soul to Davos.  The globalists now own his arse.  And they own our arses too.

PS:  I recently heard Dr. Simone Gold speak over in San Francisco.  “The best way to strengthen our immune systems is to be happy,” she said.  I wanna be happy!  However.  The globalists’ goal is to make us as unhappy as humanly possible, no matter what Klaus Schwab says.  He’s lying through his teeth.  The globalists’ actual goal is to stop us from being creative — and to make us their bitches.  Opps, already happened.


     A musician I know is out of work and depressed.  A kindergartner I know is crying behind her mask.  A homeless man I know now has plenty of homeless company.  A poet I know writes apocalyptic poems only.  A restaurant owner I know has gone bankrupt and sad because she just lost her home.  So much for being happy in America today.  The globalists have won.




Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.

September 10, 2021

Has the American Left turned into Richard Nixon?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 11:33 am

      Remember the heroic American Left’s finest hour back in the 1960s?  Back when we protested that terrible atrocity known as the Vietnam War?  Boy are those days gone forever.  Here in the 2020s, the American Left has its little heart set on following Henry Kissinger’s brutal policies to the letter and sending anyone who isn’t in lock-step with them off to the Hanoi Hilton.


      “I am not a crook!” screams the American Left as it demands that we carpet-bomb Syria, turn Palestine into Mai Lai, reenact Apocalypse Now in Africa, the Middle East and Latin America and win the hearts and minds of the American people by locking them up.

     ‘If we don’t inject every man, woman and child in America with the military-industrial complex’s latest version of Agent Orange, napalm our elders with Remdesivir and outlaw Ivermectin like it was the Viet Cong, then China will cause the Domino Effect!” screams the Left.  Richard Nixon couldn’t have said it better. 
      These days, the American Left is giving a standing ovation to Tricky Dick.  On so many levels, that’s just wrong.

September 3, 2021

Hurricanes or COV$D: Which should New Orleans fear most?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 12:26 pm

       In the French Quarter, on historic Jackson Square, there were still a few palm-readers and fortunetellers left, still toughing it out in these hard economic times.  “You will have obstacles in your path but you will overcome them,” said Mssr. Beau as he pulled both the Joker and the High Priestess out of his tarot deck.  With a hurricane coming and the most strenuous COV$D lock-down in America already here, I predicted that he was probably right.  And while I did manage to get out of town just hours before the hurricane hit, I also managed to get stuck in an elevator for a half-hour — and stuck on a streetcar that broke down.   Obstacles indeed.

     I also met a Cajun guy on the Canal Street bus who told me that the very best place to find authentic gumbo was in the cafeteria of the local general hospital.  Seriously?  “Best gumbo in Louisiana,” he said.  This I gotta see.  Yeah, well.  The gumbo was okay — but definitely not worth an hour’s ride on the E5 bus to get there.

    But what was even more newsworthy about my bus trip out past City Park, the Greenwood Cemetery, the Causeway and even suburban Trader Joe’s?  The fact that this gigantic hospital was practically empty.  No one in the lobby, no one in the ER and almost no one in most of the corridors.  Wha?

       “Where is everybody?” I asked.  “I thought Louisiana was at the epicenter of the pandemic?  And that this hospital was the epicenter of the epicenter!”  What happened?  Finally I cornered a nurses’ aide and he confessed.
      “We re-direct most of our patients off to one specifically-designated hospital.  Then, on the evening news, they’ll make it look like all our hospitals are overcrowded and overwhelmed by COV$D cases.”  Oh.  Of course.  It’s the visuals that count most in Louisiana these days.  Hell, it’s the visuals on the evening news that count most everywhere, truthful or not. 
      If I lived in New Orleans, I’d be far more afraid of hurricanes (and bankruptcies and suicides and bad juju) than I would be of COV$D. 
       At the airport just before Hurricane Ida struck, it looked like a very organized version of Saigon in Kabul as the last plane out was being desperately boarded by refugees from the High Priestess — and the Joker.

PS:  Speaking of COV$D, Afghanistan and hurricanes (oh my!), all this chaos appears to be Disaster Capitalism’s finest hour.  Once again, the World Economic Forum has happily released its flying monkeys to protect its treasures — and dropped a house on the rest of us.


Total bad news about the Vaxx:

May be an image of text that says 'AFGHANISTAN RUINED. PALESTINE TEAR-STAINED. IRAQ PLUNDERED. SYRIA MOLESTED, YEMEN STARVED. കാുള WHO DID THESE TERRIBLE DEEDS? WE DID.' Good grief.  In order to get a video of Dr. Yeadon telling us what is actually happening regarding this COV$D nightmare, we gotta practically go on the Dark Web! May be an image of 1 person and text that says 'FACE MASKS ARE UNHEALTHY. com BASICALLY, WE'RE RE-BREATHING OUR OWN SNOT'


August 29, 2021

March 2020: My luxurious night at the Palace Hotel

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 2:13 pm
Editor’s note:  Here is Chapter 2 of my forthcoming book “2020: My Year of Traveling Dangerously During the Lock-Down”.  Only 15 chapters left to type up.  I can do this.  Maybe.  This chapter starts on Day 10 of the Lock-Up — and we are now on Day 531.  Time to start typing.  What else have we got going on?
March 26, 2020:  Everything is dead as a door-nail around Berkeley due to the COV$D hysteria.  Maybe hotel and airline prices are cheap on Expedia and I can travel somewhere exciting that I couldn’t previously afford.  Hmm.  “Five days in Puerto Vallarta!  Only $425 including airfare down and back!”  Yeah, but.  What if I go down there but can’t get back home again?  Oops.  So guess what I’ve decided to do?  “For just $200, you can spend the night at San Francisco’s legendary Palace Hotel!”  Now you’re talking.  I booked it.  Yay!
March 28, 2020:  Packed up my suitcase this morning and here I am — with the entire seventh floor of the amazing Palace Hotel all to myself.  And also probably the sixth floor and the eighth floor too.  Wow.  And I had practically the entire BART train to myself on the trip over to San Francisco as well.
     And the hotel lobby was empty.  And the famous Garden Court was shut down.  And they even gave me a free turkey sandwich when I walked in.  And knew my name at the registration desk — because I was the only one there.  It’s like a ghost mansion here, a beautiful antique ghost.  Only not all that spooky.
     I also got a free shower cap.  A $200 free shower cap.  And a big-screen TV.  “Man up, Jane,” I told myself.  “You didn’t come here just to watch no freaking TV.”  The swimming pool is closed, however.  And they’ve got some weird-arse electronic toilet.  OMG!  Spoiler alert!  They even gots a self-heating toilet seat!  I could just hang out in this luxe hotel room forever — but really should go out and explore San Francisco,  Or at least go sit in the lobby next to the Garden Court and suck in the solid-gold ambiance.

     No one in the lobby at all.  I’m serious.  This place is empty as Lazarus’s tomb.  Or was it Christ’s tomb?  Sat on a posh velvet chair and read a book for an hour.  The concierge talked to me about the hotel.  “On an average day we would have at least two doormen, four or six bellhops and two or three concierges.  When the big conventions hit town?  Double that.  And now there are only ten employees total — and only ten guests.”  Invisible guests.

     “We easily had 300 to 400 employees.  Housekeeping for 500 rooms.  Bars, restaurants.  The Garden Court itself employed 20 people in the kitchen alone.”  All of that gone.  So very sad.  And multiply this domino effect for all the hotels in America — large and small.  I don’t think people realize the magnitude of this economic disaster.  He also told me about the alleged ghost of President Taft.  Apparently Taft dropped dead at a speakeasy across the street “but they smuggled him back into the hotel through a secret tunnel in order to save his reputation.”
     Time to stop stalling and go off to tour Chinatown.  Hopped onto the first Muni bus I saw heading north and it dropped me off right in front of the San Sun Market where I bought a duck leg.  Already cooked.  Two dollars.  Chewy.  Ate it while walking along Stockton Street toward North Beach and the historic Beatnik part of town.  Chewing on the duck leg.  Alone.  In the rain.  Feeling like a caveman — or like Will Smith in some post-apocalyptic drama.  There’s the legendary City Lights Bookstore!
     Then I met my culinary downfall, an ice cream store that was actually open.  No will power as usual.  “Two scoops of strawberry and one scoop of chocolate fudge please,” I said.
      North Beach is lovely.  In the rain.  Huddled here with the ghost of Alan Ginsberg.  Reminding me of that life-changing moment back in 1958 when I saw him and another man walking down Grant Avenue — and the other guy had long blonde hair reaching down to his waist.  It was a total paradigm shift for me, that men could actually have long hair.  I immediately became a Beatnik.  Changed my life.
     Then the #30 Muni bus arrived and I was whisked off to Union Square.  Also deserted.  I’m feeling more and more like the star of I am Legend.  Walked slowly back to the Palace Hotel.  And on the way I discovered my true (or at least latest) passion in life, taking photographs of reflections — reflections of The City in glass, in windows, in mirrors, on black granite walls, in puddles of water from the rain.  Good to know.  I may even hold a photo exhibit at Gallery FaceBook as well.
     Now I’m back at my palatial suite with the big-screen TV and the heated toilet seat, in for the night.  Then the hard part will begin — getting to sleep.  Wish me luck.  I will need it.  There are too many thoughts in my brain right now, going on and on and on.
March 29, 2020:  Boy did I sleep a lot last night.  Quality dreamless sleep for four hours — but then followed by an hour and a half of buzz-kill wide-awakeness.  However.  I then redeemed myself with another four and a half hours worth of total-knock-out sleep again.  Why is all this discussion of sleep important?  Pay attention here.  Both our minds and our bodies run on sleep.
Dream report:  There was a huge high-powered attorney, larger than life, standing in the customs office at the Palestine border where I had been thrown out by the IDF three years ago.  And then, suddenly, the formidable attorney was divided into around ten little mini-attorneys, forced to dress like little old ladies — house dresses, black socks, 1940s hairdo and all.  It was humiliating for him.  That will teach him to hang out with the Zionists who were mean to me back then.

     All of this good sleep gave me a fabulous idea.  Two of them actually.  First I’ll go downstairs and live-stream the Glide Memorial Church Sunday service, watching it from the Garden Court!  Second, I’ll offer the manager a two-for-one deal wherein I would pay for one more night if he would give me a second night for free.  Wow.  The hotel is closing on March 31 anyway.  What do they have to lose?  Then I could tour the rest of The City and eat tacos in the Mission and lunch in the Tenderloin at the Glide church.  Genius!

      Well.  My generous offer was just refused.  Turned down flat, to be exact.  Hmmm.  Maybe I should actually try to dig up the freaking extra $200 in order to spend the last night at the grand old Palace before it closes — hopefully not for good.  Nah, got nothing to pawn.  This whole COV$D lock-down is truly messed up.
     And the wi-fi connection to Glide didn’t work either.
     And the trip back home was weird too.  More crazies than usual were out on the street — although one group of hard-core heavy-metal Goth types looked interesting.  I almost said, “Can I take your photo,” but frankly they just looked too scary.  Picturesque as hell but totally scary.  I got to thinking later, however, that they might be just unemployed bike messengers.
     Waiting for 20 minutes at the Montgomery Street BART station was scary too.  Just me and four desperate-looking homeless men.  I gave a dollar to the one who approached me.  Protection money.  Buying him off.  Is this the beginning of the end of America as we (used to) know it?
April 7, 2020:  Ha!  I’ve re-discovered the fine art of “stay-cation”!  The Palace may have closed down, sure, but perhaps there are other local hotels.  Screw this lock-down!  Not sure if my physical health is in danger from COV$D-1984 but I know for certain that my mental health is!
     My budget can no longer afford the Palace so I tried some other, less opulent hotels.  The Sens Hotel in north Berkeley?  I bartered for a better price, still being a cheapskate.  No luck there.  The Doubletree down by the Berkeley marina?  They gave me a deal.  And a giant chocolate chip cookie too.
April 8, 2020:  Soooo glad I came to the Doubletree.  Wandered down by the docks around midnight last night, under a shiny full moon.  Almost wanted to howl.  Best stay-cation ev-ah.  Except of course for the Palace.  And the historic, rambling Claremont hotel up in the hills — which is now also closed.   What to do today?  Stroll down to the shoreline, look at the sailboats, drink tea at the marina.  Plan my next stay-cation!


Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.

New Orleans is dying — and COV$D is not the killer

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 1:37 pm


     I was supposed to attend a convention in New Orleans this week.  It got cancelled.  A new COV$D scare.  Lots of fear porn.  I went anyway.  Here’s my eye-witness report.  Bourbon Street is empty.  There’s no line at the Café du Monde.  No one is going on the “Haunted New Orleans” voodoo tour.  Mardi Gras World only has a few stragglers.  Tourists have all been scared away — and the locals have been scared away too.

     Remember that old Billie Holliday song?  “Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans….”  I miss it too.  NOLA is a dead city.  Yes.  That New Orleans.  It’s not “Always for Pleasure” here in the Big Easy any more.  Even the crypts in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 are dead.  And the fortunetellers in the Vieux Carre can’t see any future here either.  No good times are rolling any more.

      What happened?  The lock-down.  Fear porn.  Every single night, the TV blasts us with stories that people here are dropping like flies from COV$D.  The mayor decrees that you can’t even enter a restaurant or listen to jazz without proof that you’ve either gotten The Shot or had a negative PCR test within the last 72 hours.  No moofelettas or beniots for anyone who dares to disobey.

     And all this control-freak behavior is happening because of a virus with a 0.07% death rate?  They murdered New Orleans for that?  The city that bravely survived Hurricane Katrina and its broken levees has now been killed off by voodoo from Big Pharma.  And the rest of America is being killed off too.  I always thought we were braver than that.  

      But it’s still not too late to laissez le bon temps rouler!


Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.

August 19, 2021

Trapped, lonely & pissed off: How COV$D ruined my life (and yours too)

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 7:14 pm
     No, I do not have COV$D — but COV$D has still managed to ruin my life.  And I bet that COV$D has managed to ruin your life too.  For chrissake, take some Ivermectin, swallow a bunch of Vitamin D, gargle with hydrogen peroxide mouth wash, spend a few days in bed and then let’s get on with our lives.

      I can’t go anywhere, I can’t breathe through a mask, food prices are slowly creeping up on me, my vaxxed ex-friends hate me and I hate the vaxx.  I can’t get on an airplane, I can’t even freaking go to the freaking park and sit under a freaking tree unless I’m masked up and six feet away.  And I bet you can’t do any of that stuff either.

      “But Jane, it’s a deadly disease.”  No it’s not.  COV$D has a 0.07% death rate.  Or at least it did until they gave us all The Shot.  Now who the freak knows what the death rate is because The Shot caused this virus to mutate into variants in order to survive.  And no real data or actual science is coming out of the CDC.  “Nothing to see here.  Please move on.”

    The airline just cancelled my trip.  I’m heartbroken.  “You can’t travel outside the U.S. without a vaxx.”  Yet the CDC won’t even tell us how many people have died from the vaxx.  45,000 at last count, a month ago.  The evening news, however, will blame all their deaths on Delta, The Sequel.  Yeah, right.  Plus 600,000 Americans apparently died from COV$D.  Let’s give their ghosts a good burial and apologize that they all could have been saved by hydroxycholoquine instead.  Most of those half-million dead guys could have been saved for pennies on the dollar.

      “But, Jane, we all know that Trump recommended hydroxycholoquine so it must be bad.”  Trump is an idiot.  But HCQ works.  Biden is an idiot too.  He should be recommending Ivermectin, not trying to lock us all up for the 521th day.  Both Trump and Biden should be in jail — along with GWB and Obama for getting us into all those stupid brutal unnecessary hellhole “wars”. 
     But apparently “wars” didn’t make enough money for the elite.  Not to worry.  Fear porn and The Shot have made them even more $$$$.  And now we are all trapped, lonely and pissed off — all except for Fasci, Gates, Newsom, Bezos, Cuomo, Big Pharma and the Davos Boyz.
      I’m trapped, lonely — and pissed off as hell.  Why aren’t you too?
Post-vaccine drop in killer T-cells, CD8 cells:  CD8 cells keep all other viruses in check.  Are we having fun yet?

It’s a tragic state of affairs when America’s best and brightest intellectuals are so censored that they can only publish their findings out on the fringe.  What?  We’re not supposed to know that Israeli hospitals are being swamped with COV$D in a country with a 90% vaxx rate?

And John Titus is always on top of what the central banks are gonna try next in order to destroy us mere peons:


August 12, 2021

More precious than gold: The Ivermectin black market

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 11:59 am

“Back in the ruins of post-war Germany,” our history teachers told us in high school, “there developed a vigorous black market due to the shortage of goods.”  But the idea of actual shortages was so foreign to us back then that all we could do was imagine Walmart or Costco painted black.
     Back then, no one could even conceive of a black market here in bountiful America.

     But all of that has drastically changed in the past 516 days.  Now, instead of dealing in chocolate, cigarettes and Levi’s like in post-WWII Europe, the new American black market deals mostly in Ivermectin, a highly successful treatment for COV$D.

     “A friend just smuggled some in from Puerto Vallarta.”
     “I got mine on the Dark Web from Canada.”
     “My veterinarian sold me some on the down-low.”

     “My cousin’s a nurse and got me a few tablets for grandma.”

     Who knew that America was also going to develop a black market — but when it becomes a matter of life or death for yourself or a loved one, those few small tabs of Ivermectin that we scored in some back alley are suddenly more precious than gold.

(Apparently, PCR tests get so anxious to please that they also recognize fragments of various pet viruses as well as fragments of any other viruses that might be hanging around.  Apparently, the joke’s on Rover and Fluffy.)



Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.

August 6, 2021

World Peace vs Frozen Peas: How pain can really focus one’s priories

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 9:19 pm
     I just read an article in BuzzFlash telling me that every single person in America who hasn’t received The Shot should be immediately put on house arrest and forced to wear ankle monitors.  Wow!  “If only Hitler and Stalin had thought of using ankle monitors instead of gulags and concentration camps,”  This would have been my instant response a month ago.  But now?  Big yawn.  I gots other, more important things to worry about besides democracy going to Hell in a hand-basket.
      Funny how pain can focus one’s mind.

    Three weeks ago my ribs got injured in a freak accident and I’ve been in agony ever since.  Suddenly the specter of all this COV$D lunacy taking hold of Americans like they were lemmings?  I just don’t care any more.  Let them jump over their cliffs without me.  I’m more interested in applying frozen peas to my chest and where did I put that extra bottle of Tylenol (and how I can unscrew its child-proof cap without injuring yet another rib).


     But I did manage to pump out a few more memes on the subject of VAR$ANTS before I totally collapsed — and also to finish writing an actual Regency romance, the ultimate guilty pleasure.

PS:  Here’s a very good example of how American propaganda works against Syria — using the same techniques that America now uses against you and me in order to make Big Pharma look good: 
May be an image of 1 person, outdoors and text that says 'WHAT HAPPENS WHEN OUR FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC POLICES MATCH? Americans TI die from The Shot and Syrians die from Americans'
May be an image of Jane Stillwater and text that says 'Why are more people getting sick AFTER receiving The Shot? DO THE MATH: VACCINE + UNHAPPY VIRUS= VARIANT'
May be an image of text
May be an image of 1 person and text that says 'THE EMPEROR HAS NO CLOTHES THE VACCINE IS AN EPIC FAIL mgflp. com' 

July 26, 2021

“Your mom is so Berkeley”: Techies & Fear Porn arrive at the capital of Free Speech

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 12:33 pm


     I no longer have to travel to the ends of the earth in order to report on the news.  Sadly, the news now reports to me.  I don’t even have to get on an airplane.  News is no longer happening in far away places any more.  News is now happening right down the street.  Fear porn has arrived in Berkeley, California.

     Back in the 1960s, Berkeley used to be home of the Free Speech Movement.  People demanding free speech?  That was big news.  And then it wasn’t.  Once again, people started believing everything they read in the newspapers.  I had to travel to Iraq or North Korea or Honduras or Uganda to get a good story.  But now the Big Stories are right back here in Berkeley.

     Back in the day, we all used to make up really funny “Your mom is so Berkeley” jokes.  “Your mom is so Berkeley that when she got arrested for protesting the war on Vietnam, she had to hock her macrame in order to make bail.”  That sort of thing.  Boy, things have really changed.

     Here are some of our latest “Your mom is so Berkeley” jokes — except that they aren’t funny any more.
     “Your mom is so Berkeley that she now works for both FaceBook and Google, lives in a tiny little house below San Pablo Avenue that cost one million dollars two years ago and is so afraid of a virus with a 0.07% death rate that, even after 500 days in forced lock-down, she still wears her face mask to bed every night.
“Your mom is so Berkeley that she only works from home, never leaves her house, has her groceries delivered by Amazon, thinks that Dr. Fasci is a saint and not just a tool of Big Pharma, believes that if getting one Shot will keep her safe, then getting three or five Shots will keep her even safer, and strongly believes that Joe Biden never has a Senior Moment where he misplaces his car keys and the nuclear football.

     “Your mom is so Berkeley that she believes everything she is told on the evening news.”

May be an image of 2 people, cat and text that says 'DAY 490: ARE BIG PHARMA AND BIG TECH FINALLY TIRED OF PLAYING CAT-AND-MOUSE MOUSE WITH US? UH; NO.'



Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.

July 19, 2021

An indigenous ceremony: My totally noisy night in a quiet countryside

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jane Stillwater @ 1:39 pm

     Yes, this is yet another proposed chapter in my future book entitled “2020: My Year of Living Dangerously During the Lock-Down”.  It’s probably not gonna be a best-seller but I’ve had fun remembering this very weird year (and a half).

      We are now on Day 490 of the lock-down.  Are Big Pharma and Big Tech finally tired of playing cat-and-mouse with us?  Uh, no.  The elite at Davos actually referred to us peons as “hackable animals”.  My home town just re-established its harsh lock-down policies once again, all because of a variant with a 0.02% death rateSo much fun!
March 26, 2021:  I am so ready for this!  Another sacred indigenous getting-to-know-nature ceremony starts tomorrow.  What will happen this time?  What will I learn?  What great form of enlightened knowledge will the sacred Mother grant me?  What visions will I see?  I can hardly wait!
March 27, 2021:  A friend picked me up and off we went, into the very heart of California’s never-ending Central Valley farmland.  “You are supposed to fast for a day before the ceremony,” the shaman told us — but when we pulled into a roadside gas station near Oakdale, there was a sign saying “Homemade Ice Cream”.  I couldn’t resist.  Strawberry.  Two scoops.  My bad.

     At twilight we pulled up in front of an isolated farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere, spread out our sleeping bags and settled in for a wonderful night of visions and dream quests far away from the Big City bustle and roar.  Out in the peace, quiet and fresh earthy smells of a farmland countryside?  Not quite.  No idealized pastoral scene here.  Not even close.  That bubble just popped.

     The indigenous ceremony was lovely.  The shaman softly played drums and sang healing chants with kindness and grace, strongly empowering us with ancient indigenous ways.  About 30 of us then settled peacefully back into the oncoming quiet of nighttime under quiet stars and a silent full moon.
     Turns out that our ritualized slumber party was being staged right next to a rather large dog kennel — right on the other side of the fence next to us.  20 feet away.  Big dogs.  Little dogs.  Yapping.  Barking.  Growling.  Howling.  Ferocious, scary, loud.  All.  Night.  Long.  20 feet away.  Crap.
      But wait.  It gets worse.  Right next to the dog kennel was a rather large chicken ranch.  30 feet away.  Apparently chickens never sleep either.  At least the roosters had sense enough to wait until 4:00 am before crowing.  30 feet away.  From me.

     But wait.  There’s more.  On the other side of the dog kennel was a rather large goat barn.  Seriously?  And every time the freaking dogs barked or the freaking roosters crowed, the freaking goats would go crazy too.  Ba.  Ba.  Ba.  All.  Night.  Long.  So much for the peaceful countryside.

     But wait.  More cacophony.  On the other side of the farmhouse were train tracks.  A train whistle blew every two hours.  All night long.  And on the highway next to the train tracks, large 18-wheel trucks also roared by — from twilight to dawn and beyond.
      Plus the woman next to me got sick and threw up.  Often.  A lot.  And the man two sleeping-bags away had grim nightmares and screamed every few hours.  People ate, sang, laughed, cried and got up to pee and poop — which then set the animal farm off even more.  All night long.
     The sacred Mother did not visit me at all this night.  I think that she was too scared.  Can you blame her?  And I got no sleep as well.  So much for the quiet country life.
March 28, 2021:  We drove home on an early Sunday morning, only stopping in Pleasanton to buy coffee at Peets and Fritos at Safeway.

March 31, 2021:  I guess that, upon reflection, I did learn something important during my trip to the Central Valley after all.  “Expect the unexpected.  Life never goes the way that we want it to go.  Be prepared to learn from the bad as well as the good.”  And next time you visit the countryside, bring earplugs.


Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you’re at it, please buy my books.

Older Posts »

Powered by WordPress