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Date Posted: 11:54:20 05/20/02 Mon
Author: Rita
Subject: Where are you from?

Instant Insanity Page 1 of 4
Chapter 2 Words: 1100
Where are you from?


When someone asks, “Where are you from?” you describe it easily by a simple hand-flip then proceed to say, “Michigan is shaped like a mitt. It’s one of the forty-eight contiguous states known as ‘United States mainland’. The word ‘mainland’, exclude Alaska and Hawaii. I checked several books and encyclopedias for a high-quality description. Finally, I decided to describe the back of my/your hand between your thumb and your wrist. That would be North of Ohio and about 50 miles from Windsor Canada. The place is called Oakland County.”
Oakland County was listed among the 10 most riches counties in the United States. Yet, I would call it “The most child unconscious place in the United States.” What influenced me the most was the County’s trio-of-liars (medical, psychiatric, USP) and also how their medical lies had influenced the educational and legal societies.
What did the United States prescription drug law do for and to Oakland Country, especially the children?
The law was passed shortly after the Second World War, and during the Cold War Era. I lived 25 years in Oakland County where my doctor had become my worst nightmare, and the nightmares could fill a complete book that I titled “The Walkover”. I had noticed that verifying any dreams or nightmares that involve healthcare was extremely difficult. An example would be: when I asked for a copy of a test that the insurance company had paid for, the hospital record department stated that there was no-test-done. The patient’s information was a copy of the medical billing codes, and never a copy of the tests. Thus if the patient wished to compare the charges with the actual test done, the patient had to pay an additional charge to receive a test copy of what generated the billing charge. For the sick person to pay additional money for his or her medical records, in addition to the sickness, was an added annoyance and expense. In my husband’s case, the medical advice was that he didn’t need his medical records.
My question was why and where did all the medical lies come from?
At night, my dreams would give areas of where to look for the answers. One area appeared as a century old. It was back when tuberculosis was the #1 disease killer that was caused by bacterial infection. Bacterial infections never disappeared, and they merged with the #1 heart disease killer of today.
In Oakland County the prescription drug law was used as the right to withhold not only the 1908 BCG tuberculosis vaccine, but to withhold antitumor/antiviral antibiotics. The Michigan psychiatric society had stated for a century and still do say that medical lies had and have no affect on human life. I had noticed that many people who work in the Michigan healthcare society have the job of lying about all blood tests, along with the over-using of prescription drugs, such as the Gentamicin Sulfate USP drug used as the-drug-of-choice on a 6-week protocol, knowing that it would drug over-dose halfway through the Michigan healthcare recommendation.
I noticed that my dreams would merge daily activities with long ago remembrances. I liked the dream that merged where I live now with where I live before.
Michigan has many nationalities that came from all over the world to live in what I would call an over-crowded area. I moved here because my parents did. My father’s nationality was Old New England British. Mother was Montreal French. My ancestors came to America when ships were the only mode of transportation. The family knew how the ancestors arrived, yet the why was long forgotten. I was under the impression that Mother’s ancestors came to America to escape political persecution when the French guillotine was popular and Dad’s heritage came to the New England Plymouth shore for religious or political reasons shortly after the Mayflower.
We, as a family, knew that our British ancestors were knighted before they came to America, and we know though British history that a person was knighted one day and then hanged the next. The ancestors were living in America prior to the Revolution War.
Revolution was the most extreme political course taken. A revolution was different from a coup d’etat`, which could be condensed as a sudden seizure of power, which I believe that the prescription drug law would and could do.
The people who wished independence from England were considered pirates, causing a revolution. Those who didn’t want independence were called treasonnaires.
My relatives, too, must have turned pirate. After time and generations, we must have forgot who was who and which was which. Sometimes dreams could be a reminder about you.
In the dream, I remembered that pirate part of me. The dream flashed a picture of a ship sailing upon the salty sea. I could see myself standing upon the deck. The wind was blowing the sea water in my face. I could feel the vessel rocking beneath my felt. It was like the brains being shaken from rye whiskey and run. Sure sounded like Heavenly music to me. I remembered when you manned your ship like it was a case of do or die. We did our chores with a song along the way, “All for one, and one for all, till the day we died.”
The swishing music of the rolling sea, splashing on the ships hull does recall that pirate part of me. “Shoot the British. Shoot the British,” was our bloody cry.
Yonder in the horizon, a British ship stood a-staring there at me. The crew all screamed for their revenge for not being able to go back home again. “Shoot the British. Shoot the British,” was the galley’s call.
You could see the canons a-pounding, and before the air would clear. All hands on ship could hear the Heavenly Angels sing: “What have you done with your soul? What have you done with your soul?”
When the Heaven and Earth met, there were some things a person just knew. We all knew that when the angels sang twice, it was time to meet the maker. Our ship sunk beneath the sea down to Davy Jones’ locker, singing our national song: “Shoot the British. Shoot the British.” The pirates were very headstrong. The celebrated “Shoot the British” once a year, calling it the Fourth of July.
When I woke, I was impressed with the way the dream sorted and separated words. Somehow the dream emphases the difference between knowing that a pirate was a thief who would stab you in the chest and that a treasonnaire was a person who would deceive you by shoving a knife in your back for your gold.
To my surprise, the daily lottery number was 1776, and I had not played it. Thereafter, I quit playing the Michigan lottery!

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