On and Off

27 08 2014

What if…

There was to be an experiment, in which a whole state of a country was involved, one which has a fairly evenly spaced population, a popular radio station, and an Astronaut watching and in contact with the radio station below….

And the listeners had their fingers on their light switches, and were set to flick their switches as the Astronaut says…. on, off, on, off, on, off, on….

Would the Astronaut see the state flash like a neon sign, in a fairly even, flat pattern…

OR, Would He see something more like ripples from a pool, because people who were closer to the transmitter, would hear the commands quicker than those further away?

Like a Primitive Man.

25 08 2014

If you watched Catalyst You may have seen how our gut is supposed to have “Caveman food” or at least a more natural, less processed diet.

It made me think.

While growing up, my Father who ate very well due to Mum feeding him, had a lot of gut problems, he would say he had ulcers, but I don’t know if that was ever confirmed by a Doctor, maybe it was… He would often complain about “burning up” on the inside, and burp a lot.

But He would slather on butter an inch thick, even just after WWII ended, and Mum was still on rations (I actually found the ration book). She was often angry with him for this habit.

Dad also loved his salt “I don’t see why salt is bad, they used to give us salt pills when we were in the army up north” Yes but it was very hot up there in the Islands.
So he would sprinkle salt on everything, even before he’d tasted it.

Sugar and coffee were other things, and cream.

Mum also had a sweet tooth, so there were always cakes at our place, and Dad loved those.

Now here’s the thing.

Mum was of an English background, and while Dad had his share of English blood too, Part of him was Aboriginal.

So while Mum was closer to her proper diet, peas, beans, lentils, potatoes, meat etc, She never really had any problems.

Dad should have probably fed on a diet more suited to the Aboriginal… Of course this was impractical, but we could have come up with something similar, there’s fish, there’s fruit and veg which is similar to the Aboriginal diet, it could have worked.

Not that you could get Dad to do anything fancy, he was unmovable, and kept on eating as much of the good stuff till the day he couldn’t eat at all.

My Sister had her own gut problems, Mum noted that Fish and Chips or a BBQ would cause a migraine, but like Dad, She rarely listened and suffered for it later.

When I turned 21, I asked my Parents if I could go to an Indian restaurant with them, that’s all I wanted, I’ve never been a mad party person.

We all loved the curries, and became regular customers.

However, I wonder now if that caused more damage than it was worth?

Last year I had begun to buy Indian food from the supermarket, had this intensified my UC to the point that I needed medical help?

Had it made my Dad sicker?

And if the food was bad for us, what about Mum and her English gut? Why didn’t anything seem to affect her?

It’s worth noting that unlike my Dad, I will tend to drop things completely if I feel they’re not doing me any good.

I stopped drinking coffee and tea as a teenager, and did not start drinking it again until the age of 39, because the cancer treatments had left me feeling cold inside.

But I am in a bit of a rut at the moment, and need to get out of that.

So, should I too be eating snakes, lizards, turtles, fish, wild fruit & vegetables, grubs, moths etc?

It’s unrealistic, and to my Western tastes, is a bit off putting, and I had lizards and tortoises as pets, they were family. I am not eating witchetty grubs, although a cooking teacher at high school said that her Hubby, a chef, had come home with a mystery soup one evening… She tried it and ate four bowls of it… witchetty grub soup! She said she felt revolted, but at the same time, it was delicious.

However, everything seems to suggest that possibly a Raw food diet could be the way to go, or at the very least, just using a lot more fresh fruit and vegetables.

Catalyst also mentioned that good bacteria can be added to the gut, by eating lots of particular vegetables which have the bugs already inside them, which in theory, makes fecal transplants look like treatments for emergency cases.

There is research being done in the US where they collect poo from all around the world, they will send you a kit for this, for free when you sign up online.

They are trying to trace gut bacteria and produce a kind of map, they also show you which bacteria they found in your gut, and compare your findings with others.

I think this could be worth trying.

Tonight, while having my enema, I heard Michael Jackson singing “Man in the mirror”, wise words?

The Enema

25 08 2014

As most of you know, a lot of people won’t write about certain subjects, but I LOVE talking about certain subjects because that’s my nature.

I have a story from what happened tonight which may at first sound dreadful, but I think by the end you’ll be chuckling.

You see, as a part of my uncerative colitis (UC) treatment, I have to have enemas each night.

Now I got my medication a while back, but I thought that I might hold back till the antibiotic meds were finished, as they are now.

So I have these pills and enema bottles.

I’d just had a shower, laid a towel where my bottom would be as I thought it could potentially get messy, and put Smooth FM on, a soft pop music station, hereby known as “Music to have enemas by”.

So I thought the bottles beak would be pushed up my clacker, I’d “try” to lay there for the 30 minutes they’d requested on the bottle… I was sure I’d run madly to the lav at the three minute mark, but it wasn’t going to happen.

All ready for this, I got myself onto the bed, just as Andrew Daddo said that it was 7:30pm and we should just lay back and relax, He’d speak again at 8pm”

30 minutes of music, perfect!

I pushed the bottle up inside and squeezed the contents inside of me.

There were a few wobbly moments, and then I settled in to listen to Michael Jackson, The Carpenters and others.

I was really comfortable, a few tiny anxious moments, but nothing to worry about.

And then I heard Andrew Daddo speaking, and got up to go to the loo, not because of him, but because it was clearly 8pm.

The trouble was I was really comfy, I was warm, and Andrews voice and his music was soothing, I thought I could just lay there all night. Yeah I’m taking the piss a bit, but I was comfy, and liked the music, OK, Andrew was ok too.

BTW: I think there were, what? Eight Daddo brothers? and I think at least five worked in TV or Radio.

Anyway I got up, and walked… *walked* calmly to the lavatory, the dunny, the thunderbox…. and sat gently on the throne, and squeezed.

I had expected to land hard on the seat, and COWABUNGA!, but no, it was almost Regal, Her Majesty would have approved.

I squeeeeeeeezed again, and heard a tiny drip.

I frowned, this was weird, this wasn’t what I had expected at all.

And then drip drip drip drip drip… and a dainty fart.

I examined the bowl, and all I saw was some thick white fluid floating on the surface.

Now I’m sure many of you who follow me have already conjured up all sorts of things in your dirty dirty minds, but it was just enema fluid, honest.

So I did a tiny amount of paper work, and that was that, it wasn’t bad at all, I feel almost Norsca Fresh.

It did leave me a little perplexed though.

Winter dreams

28 06 2014

There are three dreams I think I’ve had before, and a great sense of calm.

Dad gave me a VHS mix tape of cartoon cartoon-esque cartoons and we just sat and watched them, barely spoke, but did.

He was laying on a couch and I was sitting in front of this big screen (tubed) tv, which looked a bit cartoony itself.

There’s a flash of another dream where Mum, Dad and I are eating, on a table in a city location, and talking about how they want to start making photos that move, like in the Harry Potter films.


Then there’s a beautiful scene, we’re on a hill, in the middle is mostly wilderness, the view goes down, then there’s a river right at the bottom, and it ascends on the other side, there’s an old brick building, and trees up there. it’s summer and the sun is going down. everything is golden.

There’s a trestle table down the hill a bit, where people, and Mum are eating, Mum is always eating something it seems, I wonder how she ever remained that thin.

There are photographers there, trying to get that one great shot, as is certainly was beautiful… and so was I, I have taken photos of it before.

There are buildings on each side of the scene, and a wall, which is just barely out of shot, and Mum and I get “trapped” there, we’re with a woman who is talking about her sick child, apparently the tummy was off and the arrowroot biscuits did no good at all, the child was walking with her at the time.

We walked through a passage, and there were little kids in this warm room, who were selling blankets and warm clothing, knitted jumpers and scarves and things, again on a long trestle table, and not much room for anything else, but it was very comfortable, and I remarked to Mum that I’d have to buy something there eventually.

When little kids show up in my dreams, they’re usually quiet and relaxed, often wearing white… they are my protectors, though I don’t see it at the time.

The dream ended here.

Follow me.

26 06 2014

I’ve been thinking of this for a while, and I think that I might be right, not that I consider myself a guru of social media, but I suspect this is how things work.

Imagine your social network as a chat show, and you’re the host of this show.

Most of your followers are like home viewers, they turn the TV on and are happy
to watch, but they generally don’t contribute to the show.

* Those who are new to social media sometimes find the idea of silent followers “creepy” but they are just a silent audience who enjoy the show.

The next stage up, are your studio audience. They enjoy your show, and are happy to sit quietly and watch, and will sometimes ask a question, or tell you something interesting. They may even get involved with an idea now and then, their faces will be familiar, but you’ll rarely hear from them.

Going up another notch are your regular guests, they might be monthly, weekly or daily guests. they’re the familiar faces who love to have a conversation with you fairly often, and it’s these people who help your show along, since you cannot run a show alone, and really, who’d want to?I’ve found that I have a large amount of followers, but although I am happy to chat with anyone, mostly only speak with my regulars.As a communicator, I don’t see Twitter as the numbers game that many people do, I’d much prefer interaction, but there’s nothing wrong with having 24K happy followers.




How to deal with a bowel cancer patient

20 06 2014

This post is about an emergency, not a life threatening one, but it is an emergency for the person who is in this situation, here you will find out what is going on, and how to respond to it.

Thousands of people have what is often just called a “bag”, it’s a bit more complicated than a simple plastic bag, which is what I think most people imagine, but it’s good enough for most of us.

A person may get a bag after an operation for bowel cancer or another intestinal disease, or even because of a car accident.

I will speak about it from my perspective as I had bowel cancer and have been in this position myself, I was very thankful to the people who responded in the right way.

You may be be a member of the public, a taxi driver, a restaurant owner and find yourself with a person who looks worried and asks if there’s a private bathroom they can use, for example, one which has a toilet and a handbasin.

They will sometimes have a brown stain on the front of their body as though they have spilt gravy over themselves.

What has happened, is their bag has detached from their body and is leaking.

At this moment they feel embarrassed, but they are also uncomfortable because they are wet, and the fluid is mildly acidic and burns.

The fluid is not poo, they have not crapped themselves, The fluid is partly digested food from the stomach. (May also be urine, there are bags for that too)

The fluid came from a hole, called a Stoma, in the small intestine, imagine a hole in a water pipe before it reaches the tap, while the tap can be turned off, the leak in the pipe can’t be (discounting the mains, which we don’t have in our body), so we wear a bag over the hole to “patch” it.

It’s just that the adhesive on the bag, isn’t always as reliable as we’d like it to be.

Anyway, the right thing to do, is to ask them if they have their kit with them, they will understand what you mean, a kit generally contains more bags, and cleaning gear, sometimes a change of clothing too.

If they do, just lead them to a public toilet, most people can handle the situation themselves once they’re settled.

If they don’t, it’s awkward, as they will need help… it may be best to give them a whole toilet roll and get them to an ER where they might get a bag from the hospital. A person in this situation should always have their kit, but sometimes we forget, we usually don’t forget twice.

Not long ago, a friend sent me a photo of a man running a marathon, apparently it was amusing because he’d crapped himself, but it people apparently didn’t stop to think that it was strange, because the stain was on the front of his body. The runner had clearly decided that a leaking bag wasn’t going to stop him completing a race.

Anyway, that’s it, it might look bad, but it’s not a problem.









A New and Novel Type of Twitter Verification.

18 06 2014

As with most of us who use Twitter a lot, I have CRAVED the blue tick, the holy grail of Twitter crusaders.

But the only way many of us will get one is to be the red hot star of a hit Movie or become a Republican and say something dreadful.

And the way Twitter goes about handing out these ticks, is probably not the best way to do it, for them or their users.

Well I’ve given it some thought, and I think this might be a way to get it done quicker and better.

The folks at Twitter search for people who have been using Twitter for a few years, the users interact with others on a daily basis, appear friendly and helpful. and come across as, the genuine article… a real person.

Once this person has been found, they are nominated by Twitter to play the Verification game.

We will call this person Twitter has nominated, an Eagle. (Note the bird reference)

If they agree, then Twitter adds a “Swoop” icon to all Twitter pages, which can only be seen by Eagles.

The user now has the power to award any other twitter users, of their own choosing,  a single “Swoop”

They need to choose wisely, because Twitter has given them a limited number of Swoops to use, 500? 1000?

A user can only give a single Swoop to a particular person, once… they cannot give them any more than that, which in theory would stop a user giving ten of their Swoop to their significant other, boss, teen idol etc.

Then an Eagle gives someone they admire a Swoop,  the receiver gets a tweet which says something like:

“You have been Swooped by an Eagle”… But it doesn’t say who the Eagle was… probably a good thing, otherwise you’d get people begging you to Swoop them.

When any user receives ten Swoops, they get an automatic e-mail from Twitter, which is nothing more than a final check to see if the user isn’t just a bot, and bingo… they have their very own blue tick.

Unless notified, Twitter users will never know how many Swoops they have, until they’ve scored ten.

Eagles cannot give people who are verified a Swoop, the button won’t show up on their accounts, No point.

We all know people who should have been verified, and this would be a chance for the users to decide on who gets the big tick of approval.

I’m sure this could be used for practically any social network, if it was tweaked a bit for the purpose.


* Twitter would need to make clear that notifications to Eagles would be done solely on their own Twitter page, and invitations would never be e-mailed or tweeted in order to stop scammers who may try to take advantage of the idea.






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