My long term goal is to set up a farm using Permaculture methods, in the process of getting a DA to build a low energy (low running cost) home. Aim to be food self sufficient by 2018.
Follow the mainstream advice to the letter and every food you remove takes a part of your body with it.
Take away cholesterol and you take away the raw material of testosterone, oestrogen, cortisol, bile and the hormone they call vitamin D.
Take away the egg yolk and you take away the choline the liver needs to ship fat out, so the fat stays in the liver and gets its own diagnosis.
Take away red meat and you take away the only iron a woman absorbs properly, and the B12, zinc, creatine and carnitine that came in the same slice.
Take away butter and you take away the K2 that sends calcium into bone instead of artery walls, which is the exact place they were trying to protect.
Take away whole milk and you take away the fat its vitamins travel in, which is why the skimmed version has to have them added back by law.
Take away saturated fat and you take away the half of every cell membrane that does not go rancid in sunlight.
Take away the fat on the chop and you take away the signal that tells you to stop, so you finish the bread instead.
Take away dripping from the chip pan and you fry in an oil that breaks down at frying temperature.
Take away the sun and you take away the hormone, and get sold a tablet made from sheep grease to replace it.
What remains on the plate is toast, a spread, skimmed milk and a banana.
What remains in the cupboard is a statin for what the butter raised, iron for what the steak carried, vitamin D for the sun, B12 for the beef, and a gel for the testosterone the cholesterol would have made.
Followed exactly, the advice turns a dinner into a pharmacy, and the pharmacy is the only part that was ever free of side effects for the people selling it.
Seed oils were sold as paint for a century before they were sold as food, and they do in you what they do on a window frame.
Linseed oil hardens on a fence post in a few days. Chemists call it a drying oil.
Soybean oil hardens too. So does sunflower, so does safflower. They were sold to the paint trade before they were sold to the kitchen.
Linoleum was invented in 1860 and it is named after linseed oil, because that is what it is, oxidised and pressed into a floor.
The oil does not dry by evaporating. It dries by oxygen attacking the double bonds in its fats and welding them into a hard skin.
The oil in your chip pan and the oil in your body carry the same double bonds, so the same attack runs there, with aldehydes thrown off as it goes.
A painter calls that curing. A biochemist calls it lipid peroxidation. A doctor calls it inflammation and prescribes something for it.
Once the oil is in your fat, it stays about two years, drying from the inside, every time it meets oxygen or sunlight.
Butter never dried a fence post. Tallow never varnished a boat. Saturated fat has no double bond for oxygen to attack, which is why it sits in the pan for a week and why it sat in your great-grandmother’s cells for a lifetime.
A fat that sets hard in the air was never a candidate for the inside of an artery.
The flooring industry understood the chemistry in 1860. The heart charity recommended it in April.
I run an ISO-accredited food science lab with NINE mass-spec instruments, microbiology testing equipment, aflatoxin testing, dioxin testing, heavy metals testing, pesticide testing, and more. I can buy a physical external standard of any of these things: A vial of lead at a given concentration, a vial of glyphosate, an isolate of aflatoxin chemicals, a purified sample of e.coli, etc. Yet as far as I can tell there is NO ISOLATED REFERENCE STANDARD available for any virus.
I’ve tried to buy them to use as reference materials. As far as I can tell, they don’t exist. The so-called standards labeled “isolates” are not isolates, and they are mixed with things like bovine blood serum, derived sometimes from human snot and spit, or mixed with elements of eggs, or swine blood, and more. I have yet to spot anyone selling a vial of, for example, lyophilized, purified, isolated SARS-CoV-2 or even this year’s so-called “influenza strain.”
If the industry can’t sell me an isolated, purified sample of a virus, that’s a huge red flag and it begs the question: How is anybody calibrating their “virus detecting” instruments? If they have no real, physical viruses to test against, how do they know their tests are real?
The shocking answer: They download DIGITAL LIBRARIES and compare sequencing output with digital profiles provided to them by either instrument manufacturers or government-sponsored “science” groups. So it’s actually the companies that make the instruments and the libraries that tell you “it’s a virus.” Actually, all they’ve spotted is peptides because you can’t even use mass spec to measure a full “virus” because the claimed virus doesn’t survive the sample prep and the introduction into the instrument. So they use a statistical scoring technique and software “deconvolution” algorithms to arrive at a SCORE, and if that score is over a certain threshold, they claim to have spotted a “virus.”
As you can readily see, this entire process is highly prone to bullshit and fraud, since there’s no physical virus sample to compare anything to. It’s just digital smoke and mirrors to propel an industry plandemic industry based on total fraud.
When I run ICP-MS tests on lead or mercury, I can actually spot those atomic elements on the instrument detector. Yet there is no mass-spec “virus detector” instrument that directly detects a virus. Doesn’t exist. The physics don’t work. So they use libraries and statistical scoring to claim they’ve found a virus, while having no actual reference materials (called “CRMs in lab speak”) to confirm anything at all.
And even if that did work, they have no QUANT CALIBRATION CURVE, so they can’t tell you how much mass of the “virus” was found. (For example, they can’t say how many ng/ml of viruses are in your blood.) Which means there’s no concentration calculation possible. And what means there’s no way to determine a threshold of so-called “disease” from a virus.
The whole virus-disease industry is a complete fraud. It’s also why blood-based AIDS/HIV tests are a total fraud, too. All 100% theater to control the population through fear and fake junk science.
Sama Hoole
When Florence Nightingale took over the army hospital at Scutari, the first thing she put in front of the War Office was a daily order for 25 gallons of beef tea.
If you are over 60 you may still remember the taste. A cup of it brought up the stairs on a tray when you were poorly, dark brown and clear, with the smell of a Sunday roast in it. Your grandmother called it beef tea. Your mother, who had less time, called it Bovril.
The real thing was simple and took hours. A pound of lean beef from the shin, cut small, put in a jar with a pint of cold water and a pinch of salt, and stood in a pan of simmering water for most of a day until the meat had given up everything it had. Strained, and brought to the bed in a cup.
That cup is 200 years old. It is in Mrs Beeton, with 12 different recipes. It is in every hospital diet sheet of the Victorian age: on admission, a patient got bread, 2 pints of milk and a pint of beef tea. Children got half a pint. It is in Jane Austen and in What Katy Did. When General Lee lay dying in Virginia his wife sent out for a piece of beef to make it.
Nightingale herself had a sharp word for it. Boil it down, she said, and there is barely a teaspoon of solid food in half a pint. And yet, she went on, there is something reparative in it that we do not understand, and it can be given safely in almost any illness.
She was describing what the chemists found a century later. The thing that comes out of shin beef in a slow pot is gelatine, the broken-down protein of the sinew and bone, with the amino acids the gut and the immune system are built from. It is the first thing a body short of appetite can use.
That is why it was on every ward. Not because it was fashionable, but because the people nursing the sick had watched it work for 100 years.
The cup went when the ward kitchens closed. The drinks trolley carries a carton now, and a hospital in 2026 can serve a recovering patient a sandwich in a plastic triangle without a trace of the animal anywhere on it.
If you were ever handed that cup by someone who loved you, you were given the oldest medicine in Britain. It has not stopped working. We just stopped making it.
There is a mountain of unworn clothes in the driest desert on earth, large enough to be photographed from space. It grows by 39,000 tons a year and almost none of it will ever rot.
The Atacama, in northern Chile, is a place where it may not rain for a decade. On its edge is a duty-free port called Iquique. Every year about 59,000 tons of clothing arrives there from Europe, America and Asia. It is last season’s stock that never sold, and the bags people leave at charity shops.
Dealers pick through it for anything they can resell across South America. Two thirds of it is worthless. Nobody will pay to ship it back out, so lorries drive it into the desert at night and tip it.
The local landfill refuses to take it. The reason given is that the clothing does not biodegrade and is full of chemicals. Most of it is polyester, which is plastic, and in a place with no rain and no soil life it will lie there for centuries. Some of it is set alight, and the smoke drifts over a town of 100,000 people.
In 2025 a Chilean court ruled that the dumps had done serious damage to the land.
For most of history this could not have happened. Clothes were wool, linen and leather. They were worn out, handed down and patched, and at the very end a rag merchant paid for the scraps. In Yorkshire, from 1813, old woollens were shredded and spun into new cloth. Anything left went on the fields, where wool breaks down in months and feeds the grass.
There is a mountain of unworn clothes in the driest desert on earth, large enough to be photographed from space. It grows by 39,000 tons a year and almost none of it will ever rot.
The Atacama, in northern Chile, is a place where it may not rain for a decade. On its edge is a duty-free port called Iquique. Every year about 59,000 tons of clothing arrives there from Europe, America and Asia. It is last season’s stock that never sold, and the bags people leave at charity shops.
Dealers pick through it for anything they can resell across South America. Two thirds of it is worthless. Nobody will pay to ship it back out, so lorries drive it into the desert at night and tip it.
The local landfill refuses to take it. The reason given is that the clothing does not biodegrade and is full of chemicals. Most of it is polyester, which is plastic, and in a place with no rain and no soil life it will lie there for centuries. Some of it is set alight, and the smoke drifts over a town of 100,000 people.
In 2025 a Chilean court ruled that the dumps had done serious damage to the land.
For most of history this could not have happened. Clothes were wool, linen and leather. They were worn out, handed down and patched, and at the very end a rag merchant paid for the scraps. In Yorkshire, from 1813, old woollens were shredded and spun into new cloth. Anything left went on the fields, where wool breaks down in months and feeds the grass.
Nobody ever had to find a desert for worn-out wool. We invented a fabric that cannot die, and then we started making it to be thrown away.Nobody ever had to find a desert for worn-out wool. We invented a fabric that cannot die, and then we started making it to be thrown away.
Every nutrient you need has a disease named after its absence, with one exception, and it is the one at the bottom of the food pyramid.
Take away protein and you get kwashiorkor. Swollen belly, wasted limbs. It has a textbook chapter.
Take away fat and your skin scales, your wounds stop healing and your vitamins stop absorbing. Hospitals found that out with fat free drip feeds in the 1970s.
Take away vitamin C and you get scurvy.
Take away B12 and your nerves go.
Take away iodine, iron, thiamine or vitamin D and each one has its own ward.
Take away carbohydrate and medicine has nothing to call it.
No syndrome. No name. No chapter. Nobody has ever been admitted with it.
In 1928 two Arctic explorers moved into a New York hospital and ate nothing but meat and fat for a year, watched by doctors who were expecting a collapse.
They walked out healthier than they went in. The doctors published it, slightly put out.
The Inuit ran the same experiment for four thousand years without a control group.
A nutrient is called essential when leaving it out makes you ill.
By that test, the largest section of your plate is decoration.
NASA’s first job, before it put a man in space, was to find the meal that leaves the least behind. The answer was steak and eggs, and it has been the launch breakfast for 65 years.
The problem was the suit. A Mercury astronaut was sealed into a pressure suit, bolted into a capsule the size of a phone box, and left on top of a rocket for hours. He could not take anything off. There was no toilet, and no plan for one.
So in July 1960 the Air Force handed the question to a nutritionist called Beatrice Finkelstein. She had to feed the man so he stayed strong, clear-headed and full, for as long as it took, on the least possible waste.
She wrote a menu for the last 3 to 4 days before flight. High protein, low residue. Meat, eggs, very little else. Residue is the polite word for whatever the body cannot use and has to send back out. On her figures, beef and eggs produced almost none. The body took nearly all of it.
On the morning of 5 May 1961, Alan Shepard sat down to steak and eggs, went out to the pad, and became the first American in space.
It worked so well that nobody dared change it. John Glenn ate it. The crew of Apollo 11 ate it on the morning they left for the Moon. Shuttle crews ate it. Astronauts are superstitious, and this is the one ritual with a medical file behind it.
Look at what that file says. The best funded engineers on earth needed a food that was nearly all nutrition and next to no waste, to fuel a man through the most demanding day of his life, and they did not pick porridge.
Down here the same breakfast comes with a warning, and we are advised to swap it for the bran.
NASA ran the test in 1960. The bran is the residue.
