55 yo Mom’s death,psychiatry, Chinatown, Gilbert

55 years old.  I think it was a particularly terrible year though of course that’s only because the negatives stand out in my mind rather than the positives.  There’s a rare and beautiful person who will remember the flowers blooming in the springtime of the war.  I”m working on this.

When I think of 55 yo I think of my Mom dying.  I’ve returned to Vancouver and opened up a practice on Broadway.  Opening a practice is the most difficult time with countless new patients and so many borderlines sent to you by doctors fed up and overwhelmed and hoping the ‘new kid’ will have a solution when all else have failed.  It’s the greatest strain on the nervous system too. Each of these new patients vying for attention and obviously desperate. I open myself to people when I see them. I drop the barriers and defences and let them in. I ‘lend them my ego’ as we say in the trade and I ‘walk a mile in their moccasins.”  I join their insaniety. I ‘feel their pain’.  There’s always some psychopaths and sociopaths early days.  It’s a matter of seeing and sorting out those people who one can work with, who needs simply medication, or a letter, or only a consult and those who are right for in depth psychotherapy and in the ‘action’ phase of change.  

People come to see the new psychiatrists for the following reasons 

1. To get relief from emotional pain

2. To prove to him and themselves and their families that they are untreatable

3. To get a new diagnosis because they don’t like the diagnosis their previous psychiatrists gave them, some people I’ve know have disagreed with 30 plus psychiatrists. 

4.  To spar. 

5. To have an ‘episode’ of television in their boring narcissistic self loathing lives.  Entertainment.

6.  To complain to, to have yet another person hear how horribly wrong they’ve been done by and that it’s not their fault.

7. To have someone more to blame 

8. To stop the thoughts of suicide and homicide.

9 To stop having sex with their sister, cow, dog or mother in law

10.  To ‘show’ their spouse that they’re doing something about their problem when they aren’t doing something about their problem

11. To lie

12. To threaten an educated upper class person when they want to kill another educated upper class person, like Justin Trudeau but he has body guards and psychiatrists are soft targets

13. To get drugs.

14. To get off work.

15. To get disability forms completed. They don’t want to get well, they want money. Money is the solution to their problems and the insurance or government have coopted the psychiatrist to ‘rubberstamp’ the bullshit

16. To be able to get a complaint for human rights or the college to show everyone how they are offended

17. To stop the voices telling them to kill

18. To get a pill that will make their horribly unimaginative lives seem less desperate and bleak

19. To avoid getting a partner or a life or a job.

20. To talk about why they are an aetheist, vegan, and communist and (fill in the blanks) and how everyone should be like them but they’re clearly miserable and none of the antidepressants are working

21. They don’t want to change or do any work at all but they want the psychiatrist to work and change and even take the pills for them or read the literature they bring for him.

22.  They want to steal from him and are there to case the place and access his building or his other patients

23. They want to have sex with him because they’ve always wanted a doctor and they stalk doctors and if they had Sex with a psychiatrist that would prove they weren’t batshit crazy

24. To have sex with a psychiatrist because they’ve already had sex with a lawyer, a priest, a teacher, a football player, a psychologists and their mother in law and they’ve never had sex with a psychiatrist but it would up their score.

25. They want to change.

26. Others say they should change and have said this for 20 years and they don’t want to change but maybe they should consider it.

27.  God told them to go to the psychiatrist and tell him he is an abomination

28. They were sent to the psychiatrist as part of a government ‘sting’  or are being paid by someone else to evaluate the psychiatrist for some nefarious scheme..

29.  Their husband wife or father or mother or boss or the police sent them and they don’t want to be there.

30. Other people complain about their having sex with children and they like having sex with children

31. The police don’t like them

32. They can’t afford the heroin anymore so they want the cheap government drugs

33. They need housing

34. They want a million dollars

35.  They want the psychiatrist to kill their ex husband

36. They want to be on television.

37. They want drugs they can sell for the drugs they want but are tired of doing blow jobs for them

38. They hate everyone

39. They can’t feel

40. They have tried to kill themselves a dozen times in different ways and can’t seem to do it right

41. Women don’t love them.

42. They can’t find a millionaire husband, Men just use them.

43........

I have opened a half dozen psychiatric practices over the years. I have some colleagues who have opened one practice (business) and the trauma of that experience has kept them there terrified of opening another.

It takes months to sort through the patients. Mostly this is a time of rejection and hate.

“You won’t give me opiates or speed or benzodiazepines! You’re no good as a doctor. I’m going to complain to the College of Physicians and Surgeons and say you sexually harrassed me.!”

“You wont say I can never work again. I’m going to complain to the College of Physicians and Surgeons and say you sexually harrassed me.”

“You won’t have sex with me. I’m going to complain to the College of Physicians and Surgeons and say you sexually harrassed me.”

“I”m going to tell my husband you say he should hit me. He’s the best friend of the Mayor and he’s going to ruin you. I just wanted pain killers not some sermon on my marriage and life. We like S&M. It’s what we do. I just need opiates and you’re supposed to give them to me.”

I have had hundred of threats that people will complain to the College when I have made the following diagnosis

1. Alcoholism

2. Substance Use Disorder

3 Malingering

4. Anger issues

That year I was 55 I hired a minister who was a lazy cow and didn’t do an ounce of work in the office, talked on the phone to friends, family, sponsees and never did any ‘billing’, or ‘correspondence’ or ‘book keeping’ or filing. She’d told me she’d worked for her ex husband who’d been a counsellor and that she knew all about billing, book keeping and filing. She answered phone calls and booked appointments.  She double and triple booked me and I saw hundreds of patients which I never got paid for. The government has a convenient system which is that they only pay for a half of their bills with a variety of ways of delaying paying doctors. We get paid in one to 3 months ,however if we bill after 3 months they will deny the bill and after 6 months they totally deny the bill but if your secretary isn’t putting in bills you don’t know that she’s not doing this till months later.

I’d opened the practice on Broadway investing all my income into the new business paying all the staff and overhead costs. If I’m a labourer I can get paid at the end of the day. If I’m blue collar I can get paid every two weeks. If I’m a professional I have to pay tens of thousands of dollars upfront in education and licensing costs and commitment to the system and when I open a practice I will start getting paid in 1. - 3 months. I will likely get all my billing paid in 6 months if I constantly write and demand and beg to be paid,   because of all the ‘dickering’ the government does to ‘steal’ money from doctors for ‘short term’ investment.

I then had the accountant who we assume was a drunk and went into treatment but his throwing his records in the dumpster and on the street cost me tens of thousands of dollars and being garnisheed by the government because of him and my secretary not doing billing cost me tens of thousands of dollars in fines and losses.. 

There is some thought that the woman the minister brought in to help her, who she insisted she vetted and said was clean and sober over 5 years  and had worked in offices before and was good at billing and filing and typing was actually ‘targeting my practice.’ Her biker boyfriend and her were said by those who knew them that they did ‘shakedowns’.  They both within months would steal from me and threaten me.  My new accountants book keeper would ‘teach’ her how she could make ‘false claims’.  She put hundreds of hours of ‘overtime’ in the books which she’d never done and the office had been closed. 

My mother was dying. My patients were sick. My staff were stabbing me in the back and stealing from me. I was working night and day and weekends and I didn’t know that my staff was stealing and stabbing me in the back or that my accountant was lying , psychotic and not doing my books.  

I paid a lawyer tens of thousands of dollars and got a new staff to go over all the government claims this skank brought against me. I only learned after this that the new staff I had, this horrid hateful person who’d been so two faced, had actually ‘shook down’ all her previous employers.  She’d gone to human rights and all the mass of agencies that exist to ‘serve the public’ but all this meant was that I was paying these two people who hated doctors and felt doctors were rich people and entitled.  I made ‘zero’ money that year, faced with theft and shake downs and all along the government agencies were publicly paid institutions that served to destroy entrepreneurs and private enterprises and hated doctors. They loved ‘salaried people’.  It’s been shown since that they prefer communism. 

I was grieving my mother’s death and all I was doing was fighting these agencies who were the worst bullies. Government employees today are dominated by these communist minded entitled people who see their job as destroying others.  There’s also this ‘first come first served’ industry. The skank had complained so they were all on her ‘side’.  I was male and she was female so they were all on her side.  I was older and she was younger so they were all on her side. I was educated and she was not so they were all on her side. I was conservative and traditional in appearance whereas she was tattooed and edgy (the crystal meth addiction certainly helped) and I was staid and pedantic.  It’s all about the victim card and old white guys who are professions don’t get one. 

I spent a year of meeting the lowest humans I have ever encountered in my life. So many highly paid government workers who would ally themselves with a lying active drug addict theif who’d apparently worked as a prostitute and her references were previous Johns. Meanwhile her biker boyfriend was barging into my offic and threatening me but was a terrible coward who I’d simply throw out of my office.  I was building and maintaining my practice despite these evil sick people and their evil sick government allies. She actually went to the college and made a false allegation that I ‘sexually harrassed’ her. The CMPA made it clear that the College was right out of bounds. “It’s a disgruntled employee complaint. It’s none of their business. She was never your patient. They have no boundaries. Their behaviour is so unprofessional.”  But he college is above the law and even their own lawyer  would leave saying they were appalling. 

It was during this time the CMPA told me I was the ‘most persecuted doctor in Canada.”  I’d already learned that there was this person in the college who absolutely personally hated me and abused their position of grotesque powers to act out their evil.   

My mother had died. I felt it was a year before I was out of the war zone and could cry. I still cry. 

It’s a measure of the civilization of people and society how they deal with their poor and old and sick. I was not allowed to grieve. There is an epidemic of doctor suicides in Canada and burn out running 60 to 70%. I have never met more cruel people than those who worked in government with their pettiness and pomposity and their lack of care for other human beings. My mother had worked in offices and my aunt had been the assistant to the Ambassador.  I had worked in a dozen offices in England. I was never cruel and uncaring like these absolutely heartless bureaucrats. Barbarians.  There are no words to describe their insensitivity and the horror they do to good people. I’d be vindicated time and again but though proven innoscent I’d go through this gauntlet of party boys and girls with no dog in the game getting rich and slick on tax payer money serving their own self centred needs and destroying the health care system and country with their arrogant stupidity. 

 I am still working on forgiving them.  My mother’s death was defiled by these subhuman sociopaths and psychopaths.  I would have killed myself a dozen times over if I wasn’t a Christian and knew that my mother and father raised me better than these callous Cretans. I am appalled today at the number of people killed by these bureaurcrats and how they deny accountability no better than the government who maintained the murdering nurse I’d reported years before.  The negligence and sins of omission and corruption are the problem in the system. After that year of being exposed to the hallow men and hollow women in the burearocracy I concluded that only God made sense. There was only hope in Jesus. My Christian faith grew and my appreciation of sobriety was immensely rewarded by seeing the ego addicted narcissism of the truly satanic. I loved reading C.S. Lewis’ Screw tape letters again. I loved when the grief lifted I could have at least black humor.  I loved carrying on. My father needed me.

During my mother’s sickness and dying a woman neighbour had thrown herself at Dad. My mom hated her. She was always asking him about his money and pension and when mom died she was there telling us that he could move in with her and she’d take care of him and could we help her to transfer his pension to her to help her with the costs and what was his bank so she could do all this. Dad was crying at mom’s loss and this lady was flaunting about half naked and just a pig. I was so thankful for my sister in law at this time.  She and my brother and I knew that Dad couldn’t remain here. He was blind and old and weeping with sorrow and this predator was circling.  Her daughter was a nurse drug addict and we actually figured that the mother was just trying to get money for her daughter but she would have killed Dad for his pension.  It was an ugly thing to see. My sister in law Adell was the strong one and a saint and she saw through all these machinations and insisted on taking Dad home with her. My brother and she would arrange for him to be in assisted living nearby them and Ron with his incredible capacity for business and finance would take over all the family affairs. I’d go back to work glad to be part of the rescue of my father and now able to focus on defending myself from the female psychopaths.

Women don’t fight one on one but work their wars and evils through proxies, institutions and men.  They also gang up and tag team.   The fact that I’m alive and things worked out eventually though they’ve cost me thousands,  is that there’s a whole group of good people mostly behind the scenes supporting good.  They don’t like the skanks and psychopaths and they limit their violence.  I was also supported by the Canadian Medical Protective Association and the good men and women who worked there and saw that the system was flawed and these pseudo legal institutions were increasingly out of control. 

Dr. John White the Christian Psychiatrist I’d trained with had written metaphorically about the spiritual war and seeing the evil in the institutions I fully appreciated the spiritual war fare on a larger basis. I actually met Vorgons in government and saw all the characters that are the bad in Lord of the Rings. At the same time my sister in law was a fairy queen during this time and there were others like Laura and Aim and Joanne and Elizabeth. All these beautiful people that counteracted the darkness that seemed to be growing.  My brother was a regular Gandalf while my nephews were definitely Hobbits. It was the metaphors I had to deal with. Sometimes it’s was Luke Skywalker and Obi wan but I just kept telling myself that God prevails and in time these bottom feeders would let go.  

It was so easy to see the darkness but there was always light. Coming back in the sailboat with the broken mast and the lousy battery bank I’d listen over and over again to that great Christian Rock BandThird Day’s song “ There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”

I’d become ill one week, I’d had acquired tubuculosis working in the northern Indian reserves , been treated, but my lungs were never the same.  I thought as I was going to die from this horrible pneumonia so I’d might as well buy a motorcycle so I had something to live for. I’d taken all my lessons and loved my Ruckus but now I almost bought a Honda Shadow but a Buell Blast went on sale at Trev Deely. Laura loved motorcycles and had had a dirt bike she adored as a teen ager so was 100% behind my return to motorcyling. After I’d crashed a Norton on the back roads drunk and stoned getting rocks in my finger joints I had to pick out I’d decided against motorcycling for fear of losing my fingers. Now sober and having all the fun we’d had with the Aprillia and Ruckus motor scooters I graduated to the Buell Blast 600 cc. Laura had her motorcycle license and I’d do my training with her driving my car and me riding behind her on the country roads. Eventually I’d have my full motorcycle license, after only one crash in the exam where the fleet footed examiner escape alive.  I’d  drive that Buell all over the province before I graduated to the Harley 1200 cc Roaster which Laura and I would take motorcycle camping all over the province. I wanted to go to as many round up camp outs as I could and did.  We’d fall in love with Salt Spring. I’d loved it as a sailor and now loved it all over motorcycle camping. 

Every weekend and every evening of that year I was ‘defending’ myself and my practice and my patients from disgusting low life in low and high places.

I’d eventually have this lovely young lady who was pure and honest and Christian join as staff. In addition I had this very savy young man who’d worked in accounting and banking sort out the mess for me 

He was also ‘mr BC’ in this hilarious society in which the men dressed as women and women dressed as men. Each year there’d be a ‘drag queen’ ball and that’s when I spent the evening with the mayor in a magnificent gown with my hair done up , my make up perfect and even my friend Barbara didn’t recognize me. Laura laughed at all the shenanigans.  95% of cross dressers were heterosexual so our group was husbands and wives and rather hilarious. We’d have these dinners with challenges as to who could dress best from Value Village  with only $20 .  I was living on Beach in this fabulous apartment with balcony and loving going to the great pool every other day and eating out on Davis. I rarely drove and lived downtown. I even got roller blades and almost killed my self because my friend Dr. Anna said it was fun. I had more padding than the Michelin man but still couldn’t stop. Stanley park was a marvellous extension of my experience with great walks and cycling tours at this time.  I’d take a little ferry to Granville Island to shop and really loved the city. The problem was camping and hunting. I had everything in storage and would bring everything back only to find the elevator broken and me faced with climbing 20 plus stories.  It was a truly ‘city’ time though and I loved going out to clubs and dances and having a whole network of eccentric and wild friends from my elite club and downtown church.  

As it was with me the office buildings where I worked had cataclysmic events.  They got sold and the new owners took over the floor I was located on. The whole floors got evicted twice in my experience.  I was a very little guy and watched a Dentist and Opthalmologist get the same shaft as I experienced. The next time the lawyers on the floor couldn’t resist so I just went with the flow. Everyone just doing ‘business’.  I couldn’t complain.  I had a year to year lease and had to vacate.  It was the best thing that happened to me

I moved to China Town. The secretary that I’d had who was this horrible angry person who abused my patients who all complained about her, lasted with me less than 6 months because ‘I don’t like seeing people that aren’t from West Vancouver. I don’t want to work with people with drug and alcohol problems.”  I suspected she had a major alcohol problem after a while but who knows.  She was perfect in the ‘honeymoon’ and then her ‘true colours’ showed. I was glad when she said ‘I don’t want to work with people with drug and alcohol problems or crazy people. I thought you saw people who were a little depressed. Half your patients are lovely people but some of your patients are just disgusting. They don’t respect and appreciate me or treat me as they should. I certainly am not going to work in China Town.  That’s so beneath me.  You can’t move there.”

Well I could and I did. I was tired mostly of the parking gouging on Broadway. I ‘d had a horrible experience at this location with the evil minister and her evil friend and the evil government agencies.  I wanted to go to China town and have different places to go to lunch at noon. I worked from 8 am to 8 pm and would only get out if I had a cancellation or a lunch. I loved Chinatown and wanted to be able to explore at these times. I’d been on the Broadway corridor for years and eaten in all the restaurants. There was nothing wrong with it but I wanted a change. 

Because I moved I’d hire new staff. I’d keep more than half my patients. Some from the university area didn’t want to make the trip down to the city but I really didn’t have to ‘start over’ with the practice but had had more and more ‘medical legal’ requests.  I’d taken an interest in neurology and head injury just bccause I’d been seeing so much of this in my alcohol and drug addicted patietns. The best part of all was having Aim,  Joanne and Hannah come to work with me. After a year of theft and attitude and downright evil I had these extraordinary women come into my practice as a gift of God. They did the work and they did it well and they always ‘cared’ for the patients. I’d had the skank and her boyfriend and this horrible old lady who simply lacked empathy and didn’t seem to ‘care’ for the patients.  

Now I had these amazing ladies who really were mature and emotionally so highly developed and cared for the patients.

In the summer before I’d move and meet Aim and Joanne and enter 5 golden years of practice reminiscent of the days of Lil, and Laura and Suzanne, I’d decide to sail my boat back with my friend Tom. I”d pay for Tom to fly over to Kona and spend a couple of weeks checking out the systems and replacing what was needed. This was all good but he refused to replace the batteries which I’d paid for him to do. He insisted they were fine when indeed they weren’t. He did however ensure all the other systems were working and when I arrived we were able with only another week or so and massive outfitting with my credit card get on our way.  

We were a hundred miles off Kona when the rudder connection broke. I contacted the Hawai Coast Guard and sailed back. Homeland Security had become involved since 9/11 and ‘permits’ to sail the islands were highly restricted. We were a boat in distress and I only motor sailed daily from island to island during the day rather enjoying this  ‘sailing’ of these tropical islands. I’d enjoy it more but I was paying for a secretary and an office and had a whole lot of patients waiting for my return. I’d planned 4-6 weeks off and it would actually take another 4 weeks.  I’d sailed solo to Hawaii in the worse conditions in 24 days but now sailing back in the best conditions with crew took 34 days.  30 days was a reasonable plan except for the equipment breakdowns.  

We arrived in Hawaii main island harbour. That’s where we saved the pacific fleet by finding they had a ‘hole’ in their defence at low tide.  This impressed the Navy and the Coast Guard but nothing impressed Homeland Security who treated me like a “terrorist to be”, the whole time I was there. She did not like ‘yachties’ and thought everyone should be in uniform.  I was thankful that the Navy and Coast Guard countermanded her order to leave insisting I couldn’t because my boat’s rudder needed repair. We had to order the part. I rented a lovely white convertible and Tom and I had an idyllic week going for coffee, lying on the beach and reading.   When the part got in, thanks to Tom’s engineering skill, we replaced the rudder coupling and restored the autopilot function to the rudder.  

We were off again.

It was perfect sailing conditions. Wonderful tradewinds. Great sunny days. We’d met a couple of other boats going back and kept in touch with my Hamm radio. Then my crew got his crazy impulse to race at night. A gale had come up and he’d put up all the sails. Sleeping below I’d felt the boat lean too far and woken in fear, ran up on deck to start screaming and pulling down sails. That’s when the mast cracked. I’d had to repeatedly tell him that the maximum ‘cruising’ boat ‘angle’ had been x when he wanted to have the ‘gunwale’ in the water. “We’re not in a fucking race. I’ve told you time and again  I reduce sail at night. If anything goes wrong we’re alone at sea at night.”  I was really quite furious and my crew would joke about his having only 40 feet to stay away from me that night.  I just was angry that he’d take risks with my equipment and pull that whole anti authoritarian , adolescent ‘acting out’ with the full sails at night routine and now I was paying big time for his inability to simply follow orders and respect my equipment and my desires on my boat. The old mutiny and why I understand the ‘lashes’ that lasted so long in the British navy and weren’t such an issue on land.  I certainly wasn’t Captain Bligh who really got a bad name because his crew mutinied. 

Spanish Turnbuckle.  We were going again.  70 miles a day rather than the 100 to  150 miles a day and more weeks at sea but really a good time was had by all though my costs and losses for this all would be $150,000 but I’d have my boat back and we would be alive. My crew would oversee the repair of the mast having created weeks of work for himself and I’d eventually have the boat back as a home and a true joy.  My tugboat captain friend arranged space for me on the commercial dock and I had a shower in the China Town office. It was a rough existence in some ways but I truly loved the SV Giri. 

But on the boat coming home we’d had this wind generator problem. I had the wind generator from hell. It was huge. Tom in a fate of redemption stood on the precarious strut and lifted this beast off. He tried to fix it and for days we had this killer monster taking up our cabin and then in another feat of despair it was lifted back onto the pole when I was arguing we just chuck it overboard.  He deserved a Victoria Cross for his bravery and contribution to the boat even if it didn’t work any better after that.  My solar panels had all the input they could get but the problem remained the batteries. I had a water maker and for the water maker to work we needed batteries. The batteries ran the autopilot as well though we were able to get the wind pilot working a lot.  2 guys at sea.  Lots of challenges. 

 I have a friend who brings yachts home and now appreciate his amazing skills. I’d sailed solo starting with a fully tested ready to go ship but now this boat had been on land for three years and things corrode and gum up and such. The rudder had broke and the mast had broke  and the batteries wouldn’t hold a charge. But I had a Honda 1000 generator though it was problematic with intermittent air flow issues.  Nonetheless we made it. The tuna we caught was delicious. Tom baked fabulous bread.  

Coming into the Strait of Juan de Fuca my cell phone rang and I realized that now we had cell phone coverage in the coastal passage where I planned to be sailing now that I was home. I immediately thought this means I can do a methadone clinic. To be a methadone doctor you have to be on 24 hour call but VHS radio is not private so until this moment I couldn’t be because I didn’t want to give up sailing. Now I could.

I’d phone Gary and begin working a day a week at his methadone clinic a few blocks from the new China Town office I’d arranged after the Broadway building was sold.  All my money was going into the boat or the practice.  I was functionally ‘poor’ but rich in so many ways.

Now in my China Town practice I’d become so rich in heart.  I’d decided I could have another dog. I was over the murder of Stuart as much as one gets over the murder of a friend.

I made the decision to meet Gilbert. It all happens first in a spiritual realm. My prayers were answered. 

My cousin Wayne, logger and rancher, who bred Appalachian horses,  hunted and fished, and lived in a beautiful log cabin he’d made himself in the north had a Cockapoo. I decided that a cockapoo was what I wanted and found a retired  American Navy Commander who bred them on Whitby Island.  I contacted her.  Laura was keen on helping. 

I’d go off to meet Gilbert in my truck and  return with wonderful bundle of love that Laura and I continue to be blessed to know.    

Prayer and Jesus

Luke 18
1.“Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them they should always pray and not give up.
2.He said, “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought.
3. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, “Grant me justice against my adversary.”
4. “For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, “Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think
5. yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice,
so that she won’t eventually come back and attack me!"
6. And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judges says.
7. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off?
8. I tell you, he will see that they get justice , and quickly. However when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?"

I am again being falsely accused. I am troubled that the courts in Canada have become like the Communist inviting  false witnesses to give power to the State and cause every truthful man or women to live in fear. Totalitarian and police states encourage all to report on their neighbours and celebrate those most those who lie and attack Christians and good and true officials.
I cry night and day “Grant me justice against my adversary”.  But I struggle to understand if my adversary is the individual psychopath or psychotic or the system that does not protect good men who do their work.
There are untold odious complaints and false testimonies against doctors who work with two types of patients
1) those with drug and alcohol problems.  If any one knows drug addicts or alcoholic they know well what vengeful and petty individuals they can be when they are in their cups or hung over.  The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous based on the honest assessment of their individuals in recovery noted that Resentment and Fear were central features of their universally immature character.  Resentment was the central fuel of their addiction.  Bitterness.  They commonly live in the past and hold grudges and their fear of retaliation is such that they are often paranoid for periods of time.  These are the people who are quick to complaint, easily offended, don’t like to cut anyone slack but demand it for themselves.  They fill the courts and their letters to the editor are endless. They are the cause of many wars ever waiting to restart some old conflict in the hope of getting even.
2) those who are involved are dissatisfied with their employer and are getting paid to stay home from work by an insurance company.. Their anger with their employer is more often concerning deep seated issues against authority tied to their earliest childhood, neglectful or outright abusive parents.  The doctor is called upon to write a letter to say that they cannot work because of some condition.  With physical medicine this isn’t as threatening for the doctor because when the injury heals there is obvious evidence that the patient is well so return to work should follow.  There are objective measures.  In psychiatry the issue is far far worse because the complaints are invariably about something ‘subjective’ such as “pain”, “dizziness”, “fatigue”, “depression”,  “anxiety”.  With Borderlines Personality Disorders, like Paranoid Personality Disorders, people are seen in black and white categories. Lawyers who defend people against sometimes callous insensitive greedy insurance companies are often as as difficult as insurance company companies who are occasionally callous insensitive and greedy.  There is a conflict inherent in this situation made worse by the inexperience or agendas of the lawyers and the insurance agents. The psychiatrist who is required by law to be as ‘objective’ and ‘impartial’ as possible is called upon to express an ‘opinion’.  The psychiatrist is however by ethical oath an ‘advocate’ for the patient.  He can not lie but he will be as supportive and understanding of her concern as possible.  To this end I report the patients concerns clearly and measure their subjective complains and write formulations that attempt to see the best in people, some of whom are malingering sociopaths.  I “diagnosed’ sociopaths and malingerers by the dozens in the past but I was told that this was unacceptable and really it was now a matter for the courts and judge to assess this. Further if I stated the obvious that a person was a sociopath,psycopath or malingerer in my opinion the patient would definitely complain to the College of Physicians who might well agree but punish me to the tune of $10,000 tying me up in a legal beaurocratic malaise that gave them raison d’être and made them and lawyers rich but definitively punished me to no end.  I have been punished repeated to the cost of hundreds of thousands of dollars for telling the truth as a doctor.
So I don’t diagnose people as sociopaths, psychopaths or malingerers anymore.  Naturally it’s like any doctor who is told that he cannot diagnose ‘appendicitis’ or some such not uncommon diagnosis in their field.  Our textbooks and diagnositic formulations all include these diagnosis but ‘smart’ doctors especially those most interested in ‘business’ just know not to diagnose anything that would be ‘unpopular’ with patients. Rich doctors must be liked and popular. It was for this reason and it continues to a lesser extent that most doctors won’t diagnose alcoholism, addiction or even sometimes mental illness.  They don’t want to lose the patient.
Regardless today I support patients and generally don’t think of them as psychopaths , sociopaths or malingerers because as their doctor I really want to ‘give them the benefit of the doubt’. Even when I learn they are unable to work because it’s too tough for them to sit at a desk for 2 hours because of their pain but they fly 12 hours to vacation spots and back, well it does seem suspicious but I am there to be helpful not to be a judge. The judge will sort this out because so often in these cases too the insurance company will hire a psychiatrist who will quickly see how ‘incongruent’ the patients statements are and even note that while the patient can’t do ‘their’ job they are nonetheless working under the table or doing things for family and friends which would constitute work.  One person who ‘couldn’t work’ had a family business running out of the basement. Anyone who has worked with insurance companies knows just how sadly common this is especially in those who do not share an ethical or moral basis  of the greater community.
When patients are angry with doctors because the doctor is perceived as a threat they don’t complain about the doctor specifically being a threat to their desire to get their‘ money for nothing’  because of deep seated issues of entitlement but rather will make their complaint ‘powerful’ as possible.  Single male doctors are therefore with women always ‘sexually harassing’ simply because there is no basis to ‘sexual harassment’ except a he said, she said complaint much like the subjective complain of ‘fatigue’.  One female theif who called her accuser ‘sexually harassing’ actually called the policeman who investigated ‘sexually harassing’ and the Vancouver police department would not follow up on the case because of the fear and cost of this complaint to date to their members.  In all cases there is no ‘objectivity’ to the complaint but it remains as a ‘character assassination’ and it’s done for profit as the patient in these work place issues is trying to get ‘money for nothing’ and ‘time off work’.
Many companies have successfully reduced these kinds of situations by allowing workers to be off work in a company club house or cafeteria but not allowing them to go home to be paid.  One of the sure signs of malingering or alternatively factitious disorder is the refusal of patients to attend group therapy or any group situation because when there is a group malingerers sociopaths and psychopaths know that their ‘sickness behaviour’ might be filmed or witnessed by others when they are not aware. In one to one interviews it’s easy to maintain the ‘sham’ but in the group process there are just too many variables and even a person with a decided limp might forget to do it in the complexity of groups. Naturally Insurance companies when they believe a person is a sociopath , psychopath or malingerer will want the person with the psycihaitric illness to attend a group. Further group therapy is to psychiatrists the very best of therapy and a central cornerstone of psychiatric hospitalization.  There is really little reason for a person not to attend group therapy.
Yet this is when the ‘I’m agoraphobic and I’m social phobic ‘ or “I’m too fatigued to get out of bed” . In the past they were hospitlized at this point and the ‘truth would out’ . One of my patients couldn’t ‘walk’ , but the nurse noted that he sneaked out of his bed at night to use the washroom so I diagnosed him as a ‘malingerer’ and naturally he complained to the authorities , right up to the Minister of Health, that I was a Fascist.  I miss the hospital as it was the very best psychiatric intervention for sorting this matter out.
Without hospital resources psychiatrists are now at increased threat and risk from dangerous patients.
Further in Canada there is a horrendous unconscionable lack of consequence for PERJURY.  The 10 Commandments says “Thou shalt not Bear False Witness’ but in this anti Christian, anti Bible, Anti Truth, Anti doctor country I have been utterly utterly frustrated and countless times in tears for doing my job and trying to help patients to the best of my ability with all my training and experience but only to be faced with complaints because I continue to work with people who have drug and alcohol problems and who are out of work and in conflict with their insurance companies..
The sad thing is that I have been able to help hundreds or thousands of people and the proverbial ‘bad’ apple is one in a hundred.  Most of my patients who have anxiety or pain or depression offered ‘group therapy’ jump at the opportunity. Patients who want to get better will do everything to so and yet there are those for whom treatments don’t work but they don’t pick and chose and refuse to be in any situation where they are under observation.  They welcome a chance to prove their truthfulness.
Patients with drug and alcohol problems are harmed by those who lie and enable their disease. I make the diagnosis as frankly as I do cancer. Being diagnosed with alcoholism or addiction is like being told you have cancer but if doctors don’t tell their patients the truth they patients are at greater risk.
I never think of patients as the adversary.  I thinks the system or the authorities are at fault because they know these aren’t ‘isolated’ cases yet they punish the doctors who work with these difficult groups. Most of my much smarter and more clever and more business oriented colleagues simply say no to seeing patients with drug and alcohol problems or work problems or with superego lacunae.  I see people who are murderers and prostitutes and often very dangerous and often very unclean and smelling very badly and I know my colleagues and the government in general denies them care by neglect or a countless series of barriers to treatment but I work with these people but I get upset, forgive me jesus, for being stabbed in the back over and over again by the very people who are supposed to be serving the same people I am.
I am not the enemy.
I am a Christian who when I was going to work in Africa was told by Dr. Jack Hildes Canada has as many people who are need missionary doctors because our health care services don’t treat the marginalized.  I have followed his advise and worked in the areas of ‘greatest need’ but I’m old and tired and reduced to crying by my bedside where my mother taught me to pray on my knees.
GOD GRANT ME JUSTICE AGAINST MY ADVERSARIES.

Random Thoughts on the News

The news continues to be more insane than the words of my most insane patients who I see day to day.  The lies of the media are beyond those that the psychopaths, sent to me by the courts, conceive. The competing claims of the various politicians are more fanciful than the insanity of my manic patients. There are countless promises and grand schemes that sound so like the most drug addicted patients who I see still spouting schemes despite being broke and homeless

I remember working in the asylum and a patient telling me that the bars on the window were to keep the world out.

"We're sensitive here and need a place to heal."

I read a book once where a man built walls around a little bit of beach. He put his bed and desk and table on the beach and looked back on the land.  Asked why, he said that it had been a mistake to come ashore and he wanted to divide himself from the world.  He was in his own way giving up on the amphibious and seeking something wholly fishy.

I can't help but think of Walden Pond and Civil Disobedience.  My Chinese friend asked me, "Are these interesting times."  I said yes, knowing what the Chinese say of those.  I believe so.  A curse and a blessing.

The hysteria rises.  The greed and fear of the authorities are palpable.

A genius and wise man told me that there's a struggle by the Globalists for control. They want to rule the world. One World Order.  A great empire of Arendt banality. Bureaucrats who see themselves with power and wealth and little risk to themselves. They are Brussels and Washington and Ottawa and Berlin.

I think of Leonard Cohen's songs. Not Hallelujah. We're getting to that. No, rather 'then we take Berlin.'

Germany has risen again as a caricature, a frightening clown face.

"Hillary is sick and dying. Some say it's Parkinsons.  One doctor insists she has a brain tumour. I think it's just end stage alcoholism but she can't last long.  She has seizures and needs help up stairs and is always falling."

"Do you think they'll attempt an assassination, blame it on Trump.  and then get Cain in."

The name Cain is biblical. The stories of the Torah return.

"It's known George Soros wants to destabilize the west. That's the Islamic invasion. Not for the sake of them but as a means to impose civil war and authority.  Armies invade, like Hitler into Austria, like Putin into Ukraine, like America in to Cuba, claiming to assist  Always they are there to help, not to invade and conquer."

Public perception. Marketing.  The Devil wears Prada.

Climate Change is a hoax.  They're taxing the air we breathe.  All this is true but what's really new? The Emperor has new clothes but in this case it's the Voter has new clothes and everywhere the voting is changed to disenfranchise.

The Chinese shout down reporters. Their anger is palpable like the wrath one feels in the presence of a Hell's Angel Biker when you question the ownership of their motorcycle.

Steal a little and they put you in jail. Steal a lot and they make you king. (Dr. Johnson).

It was ever thus.  So has anything changed.

Yes.  I'm getting older.  I have to pee more often. My right hand shakes from the injury to my cervical nerves from vehicular crashes and carrying books and books and more books by the thousands over the years in a satchel on that right side. Today I try not to carry anything on that side and drink coffee with my left hand.  Getting my hair cut the other day I looked in the opposing mirror and saw that I had a bald patch coming at the rear of my head. I'd be so much aware of the receding hair line that I'd not considered to look on the other side and seen that the age police while kicking down the front door but had staked out the back door as well. There is no escape in this world.

Death stalks. Old age creeps. These are the changes. Not out there. I am reading histories with glee seeing how little has changed. Same play. Different characters. The Bible remains the best though.

Thank you Lord Jesus.

Politics, Meditation and Mental Illness

Politics is defined as the art or science of influencing government policy. I’ve always been surprised by the term ‘science’ in relationship to politics but political science is defined as ‘the social science discipline that deals with the systems of government and the analysis of political activity and behaviour. ‘  A scientific study did show that voting was influenced by sunny versus rainy days. That’s good science.
 All aspects of psychology, marketing and logic and rhetoric go into the ‘power game’ of ‘politics’.  Indeed war was considered the last act of diplomacy.  So politics might include nuking the enemy when all else fails.  It’s not a particularly ‘ethical’ or ‘moral’ field if one views history.  Politics has been part of the social behaviour of cannibals and the Amish.  Nazis and Tibetans have politics.
I’d hazard to say that Meditation, the reflection on God or oneness or breath, alone, by oneself, is perhaps the exact opposite of politics.
Monasteries have major political disputes once two monks get together in a cell.  Lovers are fine until the government of bed enters the equation as in ‘whose going to make the bed.'
I’ve had moments of mental illness when I’ve become involved in politics personally. I vote. I contribute money to political parties.  But rarely have I actually got involved in ‘governance.’  I’ve been a ship’s captain and keeping a crew from mutinying when they are frightened has taken all my moral reserve.  Marriage has had me thinking ‘all’s fair in love and war’.
To this end I appreciate the irony and difficulty involved in herding cats and humans.
Lovely studies like the “experiments’  show that most people will devolve quickly to murderous behaviour despite all their pollyanna high minded spiels of peace and good will.
All around the world there are clear and evident examples of the masses of people and large groups acting poorly given half  a chance.  What’s actually miraculously  quite abnormal is to see people acting well.  Those who think it is our ‘nature’ to be love children are to my mind, the most mentally ill, delusional, and likeliest to project their murderous rage on their neighbour.  (They’re commonly attracted to the left wing which generally lacks standards so celebrates inclusivity and later gets into difficulty justifying pedophiles in their midst).
Our closest animal neighbour is the chimpanzee and ask the peaceful rhesus monkey how it likes living beside these fellows when they have a hankering for monkey brain. Even the peace and love bonobos who share equal DNA with chimps and man aren't loathe to kill other primates in a political way.  So, for the mentally ill among us, killing is a ‘natural’ human trait.
However in the war research of “On Killing”,  by Lt Col Dave Grossman, he has noted that collections of humans range from very good killers to not very good killers.  Robert Hare the forensic psychologist has specifically looked at psychopaths and sociopaths.  My favourite Sgte Major described his own killing propensity as “I don’t like killing other humans but there are wolves and I’m like a sheep dog.  The wolves want to kill the sheep and I want to protect the sheep. Killing wolves follows from that."
We are living in a time when the sheep baaas and blatting have loud speakers called media and internet.  The mentally ill deny their capacity for killing but are noted to enjoy the benefits of having killers among them.  Presidents and Prime Ministers who are associated with  the most violent of all, the ruling elites, (the billionaires, the tyrants, the democratic leaders, UN leaders, etc) all would disarm their populations while reserving the right to be surrounded by gun toting secret service and secret armies.  Rarely are these men and women armed themselves so that they can maintain the lie.  It’s always best that others don’t know your riches. Weapons have always been like gold.  Bankers love to have lots of folk with major weapons protecting them.
So I did my time when younger, serving as secretary, vice presidents, and presidents and leaders in various organization.  All my life I’ve been a member of churches and community organizations ‘volunteering’, but not particularly enjoying it.
The nature of my work is people in conflict.  I’ve trained extensively in the politics of groups and family and individuals psychopathology.  I’ve watched corruption permeate unions and administrations.  I’ve had my life threatened and my family threatened when I’ve been effective in curtailing abuse.
Most activists are irrelevant.  They are predominantly distractions.  When the rubber hits the road, money is defended by weapons.  Those who threaten wealth will be threatened. I tell political folk if you aren’t being ridiculed, threatened and demonized and called ‘mentally ill’ then most likely you are helping and enabling the very people you claim to be against.
The thing that all political scientists will tell you is that politics is complex.  Science is ‘multi factorial’.  I loved to play chess. It was the fundamental game to teach leaders politics and war. There are moves within moves.
I got distracted by politics this fall.  Normally I’m trying to keep my head down.  Canada is a terrifying country when you question authority.  It may be the least terrifying country to question authority in or it may be the most deceitful. I belonged to a group called the “psychiatrists against the political abuse of psychiatry’.  When one questions the killer elite (that 1-2% of society that hold power by force) one is imprisoned in a jail or an asylum.  In Canada as opposed to China, Russia, Saudi Arabia or Argentina, political dissidents are rarely killed. They are usually ‘discredited’, and lastly put in jail or asylum. I was for a time a member of Physicans Against Nuclear War, Human Rights Association and the Canadian Civil Liberties.  I have been frankly humbled and terrified by state power and frankly quite ashamed of my own cowardice and how little I tolerate pain and how easily truth can be discarded by the authorities who actually will tell you “we make the truth’.
Since my own “close encounter’ I have worked with torture victims and refugees from countries where the authorities are more heavy handed than here. I know most Canadians don’t know what they’re talking about. I have friends who ‘whisper’ still despite being in Canada for 20 years.  It’s something I’ve yet to learn. That’s what’s so different about Canada.  
So I’ve really avoided ‘politics’.  Friends who knew me for causing student rebellions and overturning university magazines with acid tongued satire and political writing haven’t recognized me in recent years. I’m a coward. That’s the difference. I’m no longer innocent and I certainly don’t want to be a fool. There’s no ‘one bad man’.  Modern times are a cowboy show. There’s not ‘good guys and bad guys’.  It’s all a bit grey. The war of words is covered by the ‘fog of war’ just like the real war zone is.  The evil is a ‘nest of men and women’ who are paranoids.
I stopped believing in the left or the right having any true distinction because the ‘elite’ will use whichever political system gives it the most control.  I’ve actually begun to think they’re ready to shaft religion too for the ultimate power of ‘one world order’.
My main dialogue is with God.  While I know God works through people and all of that I personally believe my focus needs to be on the transcendent. I belong to an organization that discourages even ‘righteous anger’ . But having decided a law degree would only help me with increased materialistic wealth, as the courts today are solely about money, and they’ve become a legal theocracy above all else, I thought I’d study for a master of divinity.  I had done a ll the ecumenical studies in Christianity and extensive comparative religious studies and world religion studies.  I was arguing more with God and yet having faith in God’s love.  I worried about arguing with my parents because they’d just send me to my room. When I was married my wife would always win arguments with bedroom violence, the siege techniques of the headaches. It became obvious that no matter how ‘right’ I was others were more prone to covert aggression and less interested in the truth.
I loved books, like Brothers Karamazov, King Lear, the Gospel, The Torah, the Bhagat va Gita, the Koran, Thus Sayest Zarusthra, Franny and Zoe, Yogananda, Of Human Bondage, William James, Das Kapita,  For years I’d study chemistry in the day and read the great tombs of literature in the evening. My wife at the time was a party girl and found my interest in book stores and intellectuals rather offensive.  She liked light hearted chatter with agreeing girlfriends and family and avoided dialogue having come I’d later learn from a violent home where alcohol and fists ruled.
I have known always that homicide or suicide don’t win an ‘argument’.  The person who does either ‘loses the debate’, simply because I don’t believe in death.  I also believe if I wanted to be a killer I could be a better killer than anyone I’ve met. Which is why I became a doctor because it’s much harder to revive someone than it is to destroy them. My colleagues are still working on a cure for radiation poisoning.  I’ve become adept at healing PTSD and really did a lot for people with head injury when no one else found these groups ‘sexy’ or ‘lucrative’.  I’m less interested now that i know more colleagues who are superior clinicians in Neuropsychiatry and some of the great military psychiatrists are finally getting their due for their research in PTSD.  There’s an irony that head injury research had to wait funding not for all the soldiers but for the hockey players and football players to appear to have concerns.
But personally my argument is with God.
My brother developed cancer this spring. He’s a young man. I was with my mom and dad when they were growing old and dying.  My brother’s cancer is to my mind a product of the stress he’s faced being a good man in this country of Canada. He’s the best man I know.  He was my big brother and protected me from bullies. We went to boy scouts together.  We canoed. We hiked, We hunted.  My dad and he and I and a dog were a ‘unit’ in the woods together. Fishing mom would come along in the boat but hunting it was just us three with my brother watching over me. Later he’d join the Billy Graham Movement, a really high minded man who was a leading academic and great sports man.  He’s still playing hockey. He has been married all his life it seems to a beautiful brilliant woman and the  two have had the most incredible brilliant sons all really smart fine people, engineer, geologist, psychologist. They’re hilarious and help out and work together.  They’re a Canadian style Salvador Dali Rockwell Family painting in a Group of Seven backdrop. .
I believe my brother’s cancer is a product of the stress its’ become for good people to be good and do good work in Canada today.”  It wears one down.
I’m in Vancouver where there’s a criminal every  block. The principle economy was drug dealing. There’s gangs and killings and it’s all packaged for tourists like some pretty place where everyone is ‘pretty’.  Yet the principal housing market has been dominated by offshore money which we hear by and by has come from factories run by killing workers or by communist gang theft or simple off shore graft.
My brother and I were in boy scouts.  I loved the movie “The Last Boy Scout”.
As a family we recently watched Star Wars together.  Notice these themes that appeal to the ‘underdogs’.
Politically I got pissed off after my brother got cancer.  I have watched health care funding in Canada plummet and our hospitals become dominated by whack jobs.  We have 20 times the administration of Germany with its equivalent if not superior medical care.  Every doctor including myself lives in fear of political interference.  We are told by lawyers to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. We are literally told to do the least for patients. Our political apparatchiks tell us the patient is the ‘customer’.  I am punished for doing more never for doing less.
So then some wanker calls me a “Climate Change Denier”.  This moron calls me ‘psychotic’ because that’s what ‘denial’ is. He says I’m not a scientist because I’m tired of pseudoscientists from the Silent Spring book, to the Ozone layer, then Methane Layer, Global Freezing, to Global Warming, to now Climate Change Fraud demanding money from real science for this attempt at making the UN a one world order and Agenda 21 the halcyon call for the killer elite of tyrant countries at the UN where freedom of speech, freedom of religion and freedom of science are literally outlawed.  In all these racist sexist  UN countries there are scientists like Gallileo rotting in jails.  The Saudis and the Thais arrest anyone who questions the divinity of the king.  The Saudis behead them.
Now our government has given a few billion dollars to the UN wankers and the Climate Change Cult has spent a trillion and a half on bogus ‘save the planet’ bs, meanwhile I’ve watched medicine cure AIDS, erase epidemics, counter schizophrenia. It’s been a miracle after miracle working in the world of real science. We’ve put people on the moon and are sending people to Mars soon. We have lazer surgery and have extended life expectancy and cured countless baby deforming disease in the womb. We, the real scientists, are daily faced with government restrictions because the politicos want committee meeting after committee meeting to discus their coffee breaks.  All the while I guess I see my brother having a curable disease, a mere cancer and I’m wanting all that bogus waste of money in the Climate Change Cult budget going where it needs to go, the cure of cancer.
So I went ballistic when Justin Trudeau won and took a 380 friend multi million victory party to Paris and  gave billions of dollars to the UN tyrants and killers for their bogus pseudoscience scam Climate Change.
Meanwhile I work each day with heroin and cocaine addicts whose pushers are driving ferrari’s and the police are unable to catch them because of the corruption in our legal system that allows drug dealers and their rich political friends to get around the law. Meanwhile I live in fear like every other Canadian that I will make any mistake because I know that the police will have a swat team on me and the Revenue Canada will freeze my accounts and send in a mob of consulting accountants if I make even the tiniest mistake,Meanwhile criminals and drug dealers and lying climate change cultists and fat cats galore get away with rank evil.
I don’t do well with politics any more. I have a flashing ‘suicide/homicide sign in my head and begin thinking of gassing myself and setting myself on fire because the sheer stupidity and corruption of the system sickens me.  Meanwhile I share on face books because I keep thinking I can wake up cabbages.
But we’re all really happy slaves.  Well fed.
One is mentally ill to question authority in Canada. One is perhaps even more mentally ill if one doesn’t at some time question God. Atheists might do well to question themselves.
Now the Muslim Migrants en mass are coming and I’m flash backing to the sheer terror I lived in during the IRA bombings in London and I know Justin Trudeau doesn’t care.  The elite are protected. They live here in West Vancouver. They don’t live in Kitsilano or Richmond, or even Shaughnassey. They certainly don’t live in the Downtown Eastside.
They have lear jets and howitzers and helicopters and private armies and if they get cancer they go to Swiss Clinics and Mayo and thankfully there is ‘trickle down science’ and we learn from the cures that they get for their cancer.
My brother is getting great care and the cutting edge in cancer treatment.  My parents had great medical care. Our family has had really good medical care. And I’m just afraid.  My Prime Minister is offering us marijuana and physician assisted suicide. I’m past retirement age but like all north americans we’re being told that we can’t afford to retire. I don’t want to retire. I just thought I’d have this trade and be able to practice this trade called ‘medicine’ wherever I went.It’s like a carpenter but now there’s a baurocratic tollgate for every action i take. there’s a tax on using the outhouse.
So I’m frustrated. I think the government is throwing money away on cronyism and not addressing the real issues. So I got involved in politics. I became a ‘critic’.  I’m spiritually supposed to be celebrating the positive and ignoring the negative.  I just can’t see any positive. It’s my perspective.
I don’t like being a critic. I like to sing Kumbaya and have group hugs and put my head in the sand like an ostrich. I like to meditate. I like to be  a hermit. I’m happiest alone in Canada’s north with a trailer a truck and a rifle and a dog. I occasionally like others for brief periods.
I like helping people, healing, know my chemistry and pharmacology but mostly like to watch ‘relationship therapy’ in action.  As my lawyer friend said, I saw you become a doctor and thought that if you can get through school so could I. Now I watch addicts and alcoholics stop drinking and drugging figuring if a loser like me can get through life without smoking cigarettes or smoking dope or getting drunk or shooting up, maybe they can.  I have far more pleasure and joy than the average person. i’m blessed beyond any desert I have. I’m grateful for the impossible mercy of the universe. I’m in love with life at times. I’m thankful to be human.  I know so much depends on perspective. I see the effects of my patients depression and mania on the same situation.  I know these things.
But I don’t like politics. I don’t like playing the critic even if I know it’s a game. I don’t think I’d like killing the enemy but I’d be a damn good sheep dog.
Right now we’re in a war of words.  We’re losing.  So much we took for granted like ‘freedom of speech’ is gone.  We have massive propaganda and marketing budgets keeping us collectively stupid. There is a conspiracy. It’s call the Elite or the state and you. I knew Reagan was an actor so I didn’t mind if he was a puppet at times. He was a believable puppet. Justin Trudeau is a high school acting student. He’s just not believable.  His insincerity is so transparent. I have to give him credit he’s trying.   I would rather celebrate the good guys but frankly I don’t see any yet on the other side. it’s not that our Prime Minister is so bad but it’s that ‘this is the best we as Canada can produce’, a high school teacher with a winning name and a cupcake body and Justin Bieber smile.  This is all we as Canadians can put forth.
I want a Winston Churchill even knowing I’d probably have been a critic of him or an Ataturk or a Jefferson.
I really must get back to talking with God. I truly believe he’s the one that’s the primary producer , director and writer of life so there must be something I’m not getting and it’s fundamentally in my relationship with God and not anything to do with cancer or Justin Trudeau or Migrant Muslims.
I’m aging and coming to terms with my death and looking back on my life and thinking that all those ‘ideals’ I believe in and fought for, and sacrificed for,  like ‘freedom’ ,are evaporating.  We know, too,  “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” I think of that each day as I see the food lines and shelters and tent cities increasing in Canada.  There’s a great image in Dr. Zhivago when the smart money man looks out on the street at the starving people outside the restaurant.  I like Douglas Adam’s ‘Restaurant at the End of the Universe’ image best.
Maybe I fear I will be a prisoner of death. I’ve known always that homicide or suicide can free me from life. I say ‘homicide’ and mean, I could ‘hop on a plane’ tonight, fly to the front, whichever one, and join someone killing terrorists and no doubt get myself killed. I could walk out today and be a missionary doctor in Africa and die in the weekly persecution of Christians.  I am ‘free’ in this life.
But death. I think I’m afraid of it because I fear there will be no ‘freedom’ there.  So the encroaching totalitarianism in Canada makes me face the fact  that God has given me death around the corner and I’m not ready for it.  I realize I’m in this stream of life and I literally can not swim back against the rising pressure of history, biography and science..  My brother is no longer ‘free’ because he has a cancer, like a parasite, attached to him.  I know he wants with all his life to be free of this rebel within, this disease that goes against everything he believes in.
I’m sorry I’ve been angry with politics and government and all the media nonsense. I’m sorry I’ve argued with friends and strangers on Facebook. My argument is with god.  I know this.  I have faith but still that doesn’t mean I have to go quietly. My meditation these days is more a 'nails on glass' scream.  I’m past the point of ‘om’.  I’m not ready to say ‘amen’ either.

Gratitude, Resentment, Grief and Aging

I am thankful for my fingers, Lord.  The knife cut I did to my index finger did not severe a nerve.  The joint capsule may have been penetrated but there is no more infection.  Daily iodine  with hydrogen peroxides and bandaid changes has saved the finger.  How come I was not so careful initially when I was washing the knives.  But thank you Lord if there was any lesson I was to learn from my injured  ‘pointing finger’.  I have not had to at least have it removed. I’m grateful for that.  Help me always to see more my own faults than the faults of others, or the faults of the world.
Thank you Lord for the health of my dog.  I was so devastated when he was paralyzed that day. I was in fear all day as we drove back early from the north. Thank you for X-rays and Oak Animal Hospital and the lovely Indo Canadian veterinarian who did a thorough examination of him and found his nerves had not been injured, that he would walk again with medication. Thank you for his slow recovery. Thank you for science and medication.
Thank you for the end of elections. Help me to recover from all the hatred and shame I experienced again for standing up for what I believe in.  For years I have taught people ‘love the person’, don’t accept the behaviour.  I have taught that guilt was what we felt when we did something wrong but shame was what we felt when we felt we were wrong fundamentally as a person.  I have experienced so much shaming.  Throughout the election and even now I am told by so many that I am not a Canadian because I do not believe as the victors do.   Always shaming. Always ‘ad hominem’. I have never been ‘good enough’.  I have always been ridiculed and condemned.  Meanwhile I serve like an untouchable, treating unclean bodies and unclean minds.  Men and women get rich off the sales of alcohol, tobacco, marijuana, heroin, cocaine, poor lifestyle, unsafe practices, yet I am there serving, healing and helping and I am told I am not worthy to live here.  I am unwanted.
I treat many old men like me.  Some old ladies too.  There is sadness in aging. There is sadness in a whole variety of poverties yet some poverty takes precedence.  The single mothers go to the front of the line while us men whose children were aborted are shunned.  We stand in lonely groups sometimes touched by the men and women whose children were killed in crime.  I huddle next to them.  Their sons and daughters murdered or killed in war or by accident Somehow we face dying together in the greatest of loneliness. I have no tie to this world, no illusion of immortality.
And so much I gave in taxes, taken from me, voluntarily though, I had no choice, to pay for education and children and I supported the children of others knowing my own were killed.  I am a laughing stock.  Worse than a cuckold.  The women jeer at us men whose lovers killed our being and say ‘you deserved it’. Man. I’d rather be a hammer than a nail.
I am shamed for being a man. And I’m not even a very good one.  The heterosexuals hate me because I’ve had sex with a man and the homosexuals hate me because I’ve had sex with a woman. I’m divorced and divorced men are the scourge of the earth.  Divorced women were obviously done wrong by men but divorced men get what they deserve.  They’re contemptible.  I was punished and condemned in the courts, laughed at by the judge whose eyes did not look at me but instead focused on the loosely covered breasts of the one who had once said she loved me.  As I once said I loved her.  In the end I paid her all I had financially. She was smug in profit.  The courts made their money too. The judge looked like he wanted to have a tryst with her.  He ogled her. She looked coy.   I was thrust aside. Loser. Fool.  Shame and humiliation.
50 shades of grey.  The billionaires are worshiped.  The women read with lust what girls are willing to do for the monetary winner. Eva Braun ruled all of Germany.  Only her man is condemned.


My mother is dead.  She didn’t do drugs or drink.  She insisted we go to school. She loved education.  She insisted we go to Sunday school and church. She loved the Lord.  She insisted we play hockey. She and my father loved hockey.  So I fished with Dad and hunted and fixed cars with my brother and my father. I learned cooking from mom and mixing cement from Dad and I helped him build buildings and boats.  My parents had lost so many friends in WWII.  Dad had served in the RCAF. A spitfire mechanic and a bombardier.  My parents met in the war.  Dad and Mom weren’t racists. I didn’t know racists till the government began dividing and conquering the people by calling everyone racists.  My black doctor didn’t even know he was black in those days like I didn’t know I was white.
Dad didn’t know that being a man and being white was wrong.  He didn’t think of himself as coloured.  My mother and her sister had black friends.  They were Baptist.  She didn’t have Catholic friends.  Dad had Catholic friends and Jewish friends and Buddhist friends and Hindu friends and secular friends.  Our family were as coloured as everyone. Mom joked about us having freckles.  My brother and her had red hair.  
Dad liked smart people, people who did things, ‘made something of themselves’.  Always growing up I heard my parents say, “It doesn’t matter where a person has been it’s where they’re going and are they building things up.”  Mom and dad most admired people who were working and taking care of their children.  They didn’t like people who were ‘living off of the government because they were too good to do a honest day’s labour’.  They didn’t like people who weren’t willing to ‘get their hands dirty’.  They especially didn’t like people who stole and criminals.
 “I didn’t fight for this country so I had to put a lock on my own doors,” my father told me.  The judge who lived a couple of houses over was a rip roaring falling down drunk and my parents didn’t have any time for drunks. They especially didn’t like drugs.  “Wasting their lives.  Caring for their own pleasures when they should be caring for others.  Not caring how much their behaviour hurt others. That’s their problem."
They both said, “You always were too smart for your britches.”  “I don’t care if the teacher is wrong, you’ve got to learn to not tell them that because they’re hurt you for it. The more wrong they are the more they hurt people who are right.” My aunt was Indian. My Baptist aunt was the executive assistant (we called her his ’secretary’ back then) to Canada’s ambassador in Washington DC during WWII. My grandfather arrived as a poor immigrant from Scotland and homesteaded northern Canada to become a great rancher and lumber man.  My other grandfather arrived from Ireland. Both poor, the “made something of themselves.’  They “didn’t take handouts’.
My aunts and mother told me the history of things.  The teachers told me lies. I was strapped by the principal for correcting them. The same occurred in chemistry when the teacher had the equations wrong.  But he didn’t have me strapped. He corrected his equation and thanked me.  That’s probably why I liked science.   We were caned in gym class, our buttocks bared.  I got my first ruler in kindergarten.  The female teacher undressed me in front of the class and held me across her knees smacking me hard over and over again on my naked bottom.
Much later I was punished for stopping men and women killing people. The people whose job it was to ensure the safety of the children hated and shamed me for stopping the killing. The provincial enquiry years later vindicated me but a half dozen babies more were killed before that occurred.  I never received an apology. I was never returned the money and time I lost for doing the right thing. I was suspect then. I didn’t keep quiet and mind my own business when I saw people being killed and raped.  I wasn’t a ‘team player’ they said in the government.  There is no “truth and reconciliation” for ‘whistleblowers’.
I’m surprised I don’t like S and M.  So many boys have come out of school spanked so many times like me that they at least got some pleasure sexually later from their twisted education.  I just got this twisted idea I’d stop people being abused. I try mostly to stop people from ‘turning anger inward’.  They continue to hurt themselves after being hurt so much by others.
Now the government tells me I can’t touch people.  Standing helpless in my office men and women cling to me and their tears run down my suit.  I cannot hug them.  All over the province men and women physicians are being publicly threatened fines and loss of license if they touch a patient, especially if they hug a patient.   I eventually push them away and tell them the government says that doctors can’t touch their patients even when they are grieving. There are so many laws today.  I am afraid of everyone and everything.

Thank you Lord for these moments of peace. Thank you Lord for bringing me safety this far. Thank you for the light. Thank you for the coffee and the cream and the porridge. Thank you for this computer. Thank you for letters and language. Thank you for the opportunity to learn. Thank you for the chances I’ve been given to make something of myself.  I am still walking upright. I’m still able to help others.  I am so thankful that my finger still works. I am always in pain, Lord.  I am just so thankful that it’s not as bad as it has been. I am so thankful that I can get out of bed and get to work and have some work.  I look back and remember the abject poverty of those years of being a student, giving blood for books, not having food because I paid the rent, eating at family and friends because I had no money. We were in love then. We lived so simply.  Years and years of hand me down clothing, hand me down furniture.  We pooled our resources for a party. I studied from 6 am to 12 pm and saw formulas in my sleep.  I lived in hospitals.  I went for years without sleep.  Plane crash. Polar bear chasing me.  Deadly diseases.  Old people dying in my arms alone in the night giving me their last words as gifts.  I thought I’d never get clean. The lice, the bacteria, the virus, the sickness. I was sick for so many many years.  Tuberculosis. I was treated for a year.  She condemned me for going where no one else would go. “You’re not a Christian, you’re a fool.” she told me when I wanted her nakedness and she was angry that I flew away to serve the aboriginals because, “no one else would’.  Now no one cares.  The government regulator sneered at me and said, “It’s just a job.”  I’ve never got my back pay. There never was a bonus.  Everyone said I had status but ever shopkeeper raised the price and stole from me.  All the while the government took in taxes and paid themselves fat salaries and froze my income.  Among ourselves we laugh if we make minimum wage.  7 days a week for how many years is it I worked and was on call. No overtime. No on call. No danger pay.  I fell asleep in an operation.  I wet myself too.  An adult man peeing dribbling unable to hold it. all night with an unforgettable bowel after a shot gun wound.  I wake with nightmares screaming lost in guts that are perforated seeing faces of suicides. It’s a good week when I don’t remember, when I get a full nights sleep.  This morning I woke at 5 am.  Now I know it’s just the rain.  It’s the darkness and the rain. It’s that season. I remember the rains coming and the palm trees flying over my car, my windows knocked out.  The rains and the darkness. I’ll get used to it again.

Thank you Lord for the memories. When I smoked pot and drank wine I forgot.  I don’t remember my holidays. Those brief weeks when we’d get away from the ‘front’ and escape to beaches.  I drank wine and smoked weed and now don’t much remember those days while the horrors of guns in offices and knives and the angry faces fresh from jail in withdrawal demanding valium and more valium or narcotics and more narcotics threatening shouting.
She said I ’sexually harassed her’ when I asked her to leave because she was stealing and smoking crack. She ‘d been raging and shouting at the Indo canadians in wheelchairs.  She hated Indo Canadians.  I didn’t know when I hired her. I didn’t even know she was a drug addict. I didn’t know she prostituted. I took others words. She lied. I didn’t know her johns had been her references. I didn’t know that her minister was her bisexual lover. I’ve never known anything when the shit hits the fan. I’ve been so focussed on saving a life that I didn’t know that I was being stolen from. Only when the bank balance didn’t match did I know something was wrong.  Only when I saw the receipts from the store did I realize that she was a thief.    Everything she said and wrote didn’t match. Lawyers showed that.  A hundred lies but it was never about truth.  I told the truth and was condemned for it.  Government’s don’t want the truth.
The government woman said, “Women don’t lie about sex.”
I learned there was no ‘justice’ and went to work pro bono with my friend who was killed when he said that only the rich could afford justice in Canada.  I still think it was a hit.
Thank you Lord for the lifting me up. These moments come and go. The set backs. Reflecting on people saying I’m not a Canadian.  People telling me to leave Canada and that I’m not wanted here.  It took me back to the time when I was getting death threats, when my windows were shot out by 22’s, when my cars was keyed over and over.  I had been diagnosing alcoholism and addiction and saying that people were unfit for work. The management thanked me for halving the accidents on the job. Men and women thanked me for making their workplaces safe but the cost was high. Drug addiction changes a person.  The pot heads were just as violent as the alcoholics and cokeheads when it came to wanting revenge.  Here there were having this good thing, the doctor before me saying they were depressed and giving them a week or two in hospital to dry out before they went back to work to wreck havoc on management and their fellow workers.  He was the loved doctor.
"The other psychiatrist  never asked about alcohol and drugs but this knew little shit doctor did and he fucked me up. The fuck cost me my job writing down what I told him I smoked and drank. It was supposed to be confidential. When the insurance company saw it they said that I had to go to treatment. I didn’t want to quit.  I just wanted the other psychiatrist to keep writing a note saying I was sick because of my bipolar disorder.  I didn’t want this fucking asshole to fuck me up.  I talked to everyone about him.  I didn’t think it was relevant to tell anyone how much weed I was smoking when I was working.  It’s medicine. It’s a herb.  It’s not like the pharmaceutical’s that little shit puts people on.  The boss is just like him. A fuckking shit. Keeps telling me I’m forgetting and not concentrating on the work.  Claimed I caused their multi million dollar machine to break down.  All the stress he was giving me made me do coke. I needed it to concentrate at work after I started the day with a few shots and a doozie or two.  Then I go to the hospital for my normal break, like we all did with the old doctor and this shit blows the whistle.  Of course I hate him.  Fucking boy scout.  Little do goober.  Of course my friends and I made his life miserable. After what he did to us he’s lucky he didn’t have an accident."

Now I’m just sad, now , alone.  Thinking how many lives I must have ruined drug testing.  If I’d just backed off, turned a blind eye like my colleague, these guys might have gone on to be Prime Minister or at very least headed the company. Instead they probably left regular work and went into growing dope full time and becoming part of the multi billion dollar BC industry that now has essentially been pardoned as well as getting to take the money and run.
I’ve never been “pardoned" in my work.  I’m just scrutinized, regulated, criticized,  shamed and threatened. They call the punishment different names like ‘re-education.’  It’s still punishment.  The hitters get paid and the victims get framed.  When I was doing so much pro bono work, about 20% of that years income, because the parents didn’t pay their premium they and their  kids couldn’t see private doctor and they were told to go to government clinics where they didn’t want to go because everyone their judged them and put them down, I saw them.  I didn’t get paid.  May e $20,000 loss of income a year. I thought like any business I should be able to declare it as a loss so I did.  Revenue Canada sent out three people to audit me. It wasn’t an audit. It was harassment. They went through all my books.  At the end of a week, this thug said, “No doctor sees patients for free. We haven’t caught you yet, but we’re watching you and we will.”  Every private doctor I know works for free but we’re not allowed to declare our ‘losses’.  Even today people miss appointments and I  don’t pay but I can’t declare my losses against my earnings like all other businesses can.  The reason is that psychopaths think others think like they do.  Lizards think other think like lizards.  So our government doesn’t do anything for free.  And they can’t understand a physician any more than an insect can understand a bird.
It’s not good to stew. It’s better to help someone. I am so thankful. When my mind wasn’t working I used my body to carry folk. When I couldn’t lead I followed. Today I know the people I’ll see are hurting more.  I have so many people with cancer and surgeries and all I do is provide relief.  The heroin addicts are far gone but here and there one awakes and wants to live.  I’m happy to provide solace. I love to see people cured. But now we’re all getting older and the only cure for life is death.
I think of that too much these days.  Kierkegaard, “Life is suffering unto death’. I think a lot about my buddhist days.  I’m praying and meditating.  I miss rejoicing.  I miss dancing.  I have to have a shower and get to work. Everyone is always angry that I’m late. Some days I’m afraid to leave my office. A day of my life has not gone by that someone hasn’t been angry with me. A year in my life has not gone by that some official hasn’t hated me and tried with all their power to destroy me.
 For so many years the friends of the man I stopped killing people haunted my life. They were in so many high places and their loyalty to their drunken dangerous friend was admirable.  They were more afraid than me.  I saw that but now a couple of them have died and the others are retired.  They’re rich and have young wives and their children visit them.  They tell war stories like we all do.  They’re victors.
I don’t think I ever wanted to be a victor. Maybe if I’d set my eyes higher. As long as I can remember I've just wanted to survive and help others survive.  .  Thank you God for letting me survive. Thank you for the easing up of my back pain and the healing of my finger and my dog. Thank you that I can type.  Please banish my anger, my self pity, my negativity, my comparison, my jealousy and envy and my resentments. Help me rid myself of these character flaws so I can better celebrate this new day and be grateful for all that you have given me.

Bad people are always crazy

"Bad people are always crazy," Dead Eye said. "That's why they do what they do. And sometimes it takes crazy guys like me and Uncle Boomer to go out there and stop them."

Quote from Apaches an excellent detective novel by Lorenzo
Carcaterra.

While this is probably right, and it does simplify things, what is implied if not stated outright is that 'crazy' people aren't always bad.

Global Police State

A friend said that there is no longer any reason to run away.  "There's no place left to go."  Corruption and police abuse occur locally but are also global.  Whether it's overt or covert isn't as important as the fact that 'geographical solutions' no longer seem likely to be any more than lateral displacements.
The true nature of the police is to 'serve and protect'. Their success stems from their close relationship with the community they serve in. Further they are most successful when they represent the community ideals.  The fact remains that a fraction of all individuals are simply ferral and lack darwinian advancement to be able to consceputalize society at all. These are the psychopaths.  Psychopaths object most to being put in jail with other psychopaths.  They thrive on victims. A good police service is like the sheep dogs that serve the shepherd.
What is problematic is when the police serve tyranny or are politically at variance with the majority aims of the people.  Further, police are distinctly different from the military. The military's function is to find the enemy and extingquish the threat.  The paramitarization of the police is a concern because of the paranoid devision which results.  Military need an group enemy whereas police theoretically don't.
Organized crime today is becoming for some a 'blue collar' police force acting where the 'white collar' police force has failed.  Russia is described as in bed with the mafia and Japan has long cohabited with the Yakuza.  Gangs provide an order out of disorder. There's a history of gangs and unions that speak to the service this misled groups have in adressing chaos.  'Steal a little and they put you in jail, steal alot and they make you king, ' was a saying of Dr. Johnson, the english political critic.
Meanwhile bullying was a means of gaining power whereas killing might cost one the power that threat and extortion gained.  Southern writer Carl Hiaasen has quipped that the only things a southern politician can't do, all else being acceptable, is "being caught with a dead girl or a live boy "in their bed. There's a blurring of the boundaries which has given rise to various privatized 'security' forces and increased powers for 'private police'. Meanwhile in the school teachers are all on about 'anti bullying' which was once the 'private boys school learning grounds' for next generation leaders with hazing as central.
During the 30's in Germany and Europe as a whole there was a time of great spirituality and a time of eco awarenss.The great nudist and nature movements thrived between wars and prior to the development of the great police states of Communism and Nazism.  It is both exciting and concerning that we are faced again with a time of great spirituality and eco awareness.
Today we have a soldier on trial for releasing secrets that Wikileaks passed on to the people. The 'secrets' showed the corruption in the high places of governemnt.  Naturally this corruption undermined the 'police' themselves in North America.  9-11, the OJ trial, and countless other events have eroded our faith in the 'purity' and 'honesty' of leadership.  At the height of the Goldman Sachs,  Franny Mae and Freddy Mae debacle there were cocaine drugged executives whoring with high class prostitutes.
Locally a new 'watchdog' has been brought in to 'police' the 'police' yet hundreds break all manner of law defiantly squatting ('occupying '- note the military language) in public parks and 'disrupting traffic' because they like to.  The normal police are damned if they do and damned if they don't.  Increasing all over the world police are faced with containing 'protestors' in increasing 'civil war' like scenarios.  Yet if they 'act' in day to day scenarios they will be scrutinized and if they avoid acting to catch criminals they will be playing it 'safe'.  It's a confusing time to be a police man or woman.
The 'police' state depends on the judiciary.  Increasingly there's 'centralization' of control and judges demanding that there be no criticizm of them while increasingly there's a demand, much like with 'wiki leaks' to film proceedings. The Vancouver Riots court cases are due to be televized.  Not "Judge Judy' by any means, thank God, but a return to Solomon without the exclusivity and dark corridors.  Meanwhile Philip Slayton's book, Mighty Judgement , How the Supreme Court Runs Your Life has been published to show Canadians just how free Americans are compared to Canadians who behaviour politically fluctuates from silliness and irrelevance to abject vassal stateship.
Meanwhile as Christians we believe that God is in control of all aspects of life including politics and law though Jesus did say that a different ruler ruled the world before his death by the judges and police of his day was supposed to change things. Hitchens died recently and was famous for saying if the religious felt their homes were in the afterlife and heaven why were the religious organizations, be they Christian, Catholic, Moslem or Jewish so intent on acquiring land and power in this world.
The paradox has always been that we are 'gods that shit'.  We have minds capable of imagining peace on earth especially at Christmas but our bodies war with the very idea.  Freud was afraid of the "id' and the unconscious, according to Jung and Milton Erickson who felt the unconscious was to be embraced.
The police state is all about the rational limitting the unrational to all extents and purposes.  Historical 'rationality was the domain of man and irrationality the  domain of women."  This resulted in the quip that the heart has reason that the minds does not know of.    Yet in British Columbia, though half of the lawyers graduating are female, two thirds leave law rapidly because they apparently are so excluded that the law society is now finally attempting to make more room in it's irrationally rational corridors for the rationally irrational sex.  World War I was the war to end all wars and confirmed that the 'age of reason' had culminated in the most unreasonable of behaviour.
I for one am a healer. I'm on the side of motherhood and children. I think Dad's a bit over the top at times still I love him dearly.  It's  balance I love best. I'm a student of Freud but love Jung and Milton Erickson.  I believe that all the gold and bullion put into the hands of the controllers with first the failed war on Drugs and now the war on Terror would best be divided with those in education and medicine.  I think theres a place for prevention and enforcement but I think that we're way over the top with tanks in police forces.
I think it's time to win  hearts and minds and if we did that we'd have a global police state that 'served and protected' rather than tended more and more to the para military.
In Canada we all have to re think Troudeau despite my personal love for his red carnation. His calling tanks into the streets of Montreal may well have been the greatest failure in our history.   Perhaps the resurrection of the Canadian Liberal Party could phoenix from a re think of that sad moment in Canadian history.
I want to believe and see God in charge and know that I am safe in the hands of the Lord. I want to know too that my leadership isn't lying and stealing while smiling like Robert Hare's  'Snakes in Suits'.  I would have more faith in the future if countries like Canada lobbied on behalf of Julian Assange of Wikileaks.  We need to support authority but we can't stand for tyrrany.
Of course if Obama declares a state of war with China then we will have to accept 'loose lips sink ships' but until then we need to here and now to accept a Global Police State but work together to ensure that it's role remains 'to serve and protect'. My friends says, "there's no place left to run to."  Of course, I'm following the latest Mars expedition with keen interest.