Monday, September 26, 2016


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.
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.


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
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!


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...


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.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

How To Make A Ball Of Yarn From A Sweater

Looking over the last three posts, I'd like to take one more bite at the apple, only this time being strictly clinical.

Arguendo, we will even assume that Cover Story 3.0, "pneumonia-induced dehydration", is exactly what it is claimed to be.
How well does that fit the facts here?


1) I've had actual "walking" pneumonia, for real. In my twenties.
It absolutely kicked my 20-year old ass, around the block, and down the hill.
Forget about what it would do to a corpulent 68-year old woman.
I did not, for instance, simply go into an air-conditioned apartment for an hour, and come bouncing back to normalcy, same day.
Not just no, but HELL NO.
I was put on a course of antibiotics for a week. I dropped half my college classes for a semester, and it took two weeks at home, doing abso-effing-lutely nothing, to get to where I could come back and struggle through the half that I didn't drop.
And before and after I got to that point, I looked and felt like death warmed over, thinking I just had a bad chest cold. I did not, for example, look bright and perky in the morning, and then faint dead away in a matter of an hour and a half on a pleasant fall day.

Conclusion: Shrillary did not suffer a bout of pneumonia, and is not recovering from one now.

2) If you're the Secret Service protecting a principal, who suddenly has an acute case of falling flat out cold and damn near face-planting in Manhattan, you don't take them to an apartment; you take them to the nearest emergency room, stat (which is Latin for "right effing now"). This point is not open to discussion from the non-syncopal political hacks in the protectee's party.

Conclusion: This was not a syncopal episode from anything acute, like recently diagnosed pneumonia.

3) The actual medical treatment for acute dehydration, once again, is not air conditioning in an apartment.
It's 2 or more liters of IV fluids, bolused onboard as fast as the patient will tolerate, along with immediate laboratory bloodwork and a head CT, to rule out things like a stroke, a tumor, and a plethora of other medical possibilities, etc., and a 12-lead EKG to rule out anything cardiac-related.

Conclusion: This was not a case of dehydration, induced by pneumonia.

4) When the protected principal goes down, the Secret Service does not nonchalantly catch them, toss them into a van, and whisk them to an apartment in Manhattan. They spring into action like linebackers on crack, and would, as a rule, trample the living fuck out of any staff too slow in getting out of the way.
There are only any number of incidents and even National fricking Geographic specials on the Secret Service to document this, at your leisure, should you be inclined to doubt it.

Conclusion: This was not a sudden, unexpected event, like a case of dehydration and a fainting spell, but rather one of a long-playing series of events where this principal has totally lost consciousness, and the phalanx demonstrated here was all about hiding what was going on from prying eyes, rather than springing to aid a surprisingly stricken protectee.

5) When someone running for the presidency is diagnosed by a competent medical doctor with pneumonia on Friday, but said candidate is too hard-headedly stoopid to take a rest break, you don't wait until they publicly fall unconscious on Sunday to prescribe them antibiotics for that previously diagnosed pneumonia, and you hand them the goddam pills on schedule several times every day and watch them swallow them, until they're either well, or on a multi-day rest period.

Conclusion: This was not an actual diagnosed case of pneumonia on Friday, as both Clinton and her campaign hacks, as well as the doctor in question, have lied, and it probably isn't one now either.

6) When someone previously diagnosed with pneumonia needs a break, you don't walk them slowly away, for hundreds of yards, forcing them to expend energy and stamina they don't possess, and then prop them up while you wait for the Executive Waahmbulance to get to you. You get them to the nearest secluded place of rest and recovery you can, even if that's a VIP pop-up tent out of sight, and you get them off their feet, right effing now, and bring the Waahmbulance to Mohammed. Over barricades and pedestrians, if it comes to that. And you have a "poop-out" golf cart, or the like, handy and just out of sight, to expedite exactly the extraction that occurred, without forcing your boss to have an Asphalt Brunch on national television from being walked into catatonia and syncope.

Conclusion: The staff knew before the event that there was no pneumonia, nor was any such diagnosis made, and that's why no such precautions were taken nor were eventualities for dealing with it planned and war-gamed out ahead of time.

7) Incipient and/or latent pneumonia doesn't cause coughing fits weeks before felling the patient, nor cause uncontrollable head nodding 400 times in an hour, nor cause one to constantly position their hands in awkward places to keep them busy, and prevent such manifestations as "pill-rolling". Nor does pneumonia cause you to become startled easily, roll your head around like a bobblehead in an earthquake, nor cause you to go rigid, unable to ambulate, unable to move your legs, unable to maintain your balance, or unable to do anything but imitate a sack of potatoes headed for the ground.
Oh, but things like Parkinson's Disease cause all of that.

Conclusion: This was not a pneumonia manifestation, but rather it was a public outing of a long-concealed and very advanced case of Parkinson's Disease, a progressive, debilitating, and ultimately incapacitating neurological disorder.

8) Given Shrillary's past hardships in finding the truth with both hands, a map, and a search party, and the ongoing retinue of people who are plainly nothing but medical caregivers in her daily entourage, Shrillary didn't discover that she had Parkinson's Disease on Sunday, unlike the rest of America. She has to have known about it for months, if not years. Which means, knowing this to be so, a conscious, long thought-out, and deliberate plan was made to lie about this to everyone, long and hard, and even after any shred of pretense about the truth was any longer defensible (at least to anyone who doesn't wear a football helmet on outings to the store or ice cream shop).

Conclusion: The is a world-class fraud, perpetrated against first of all her supporters, then against the entire Democrat Party, and ultimately against the entire nation. Which, if you're a Clinton, is simply who you are, and what you do.
Sunday was the DNA-stained dress that finally revealed to the entire nation exactly what a ruthlessly dishonest, calculating, and conniving witch has garnered the Democrat nomination to the presidency, long beyond the time when anyone less venal and selfishly ambitious would have thrown in the towel, and retired from public life with some semblance of dignity.

9) If your cover story is overheating (on a 77-degree morning with a light breeze and mid-range humidity), and your fall-back medical facility is the daughter's apartment, it's probably best to go to the building your daughter lives in, and not the one she USED to live in, which "coincidentally" also not only doesn't feature your daughter's residence, but DOES have a home health care agency located inside instead. And you know this, because you realize everyone has Google and the internet, and will catch you lying about lying about lying within another day or three.

Conclusion: This lame-as-hell cover story, as lame as a dog with no legs, and already the third lame attempt to mis-explain something that's become painfully and inescapably obvious, was whipped up on the fly by people too effing incompetent to escape from a wet paper bag, nor pour piss out of a boot when the instructions to do so are written on the heel.

Q.: What do you call a dog with no legs?
A.: What difference does it make? He's never going to come to you anyways, nor do the tricks you want.

And neither is this latest Cover Story 3.0 going to suffice to cover for Shrillary's ongoing physical unfitness meltdown.

Q.: Where do you find a dog with no legs?
A.: Right where you left him.

Which is why, despite all the efforts to get people not to believe their lying eyes, both Shrillary and her campaign are metaphorically still lying face down on a Manhattan side street, and overwhelmingly, it's because they're all still lying.