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' 

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