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Wk kortas Apr 2017
We’d known him, back in the day
At dear old Millard Fillmore Elementary,
As Three-Desks Tommy, highly imaginative monicker
Deriving from his decidedly unimaginative first name
And the fact that he, indeed, had three desks,
Each of them stuffed chock-full
With uncounted numbers of pencils and erasers,
Any number of homework papers
(Usually A’s and A-pluses,
Though there were the odd B’s and B-minuses as well,
As he was a bright, in fact inordinately bright, child,
But sometimes given to sloppiness and stray pencil marks
And a predilection for not reading the directions completely)
Eerily accurate renditions of dinosaurs,
Wildly inventive stories featuring rainbow-hued dragons,
Noble and voluble talking bovines,
And knights and knaves of every size, shape, and suzerain,
Stories which resided cheek-to-jowl with some bit of uneaten sandwich
Until such time it made its existence
Abundantly clear to the custodial staff.
We’d never stopped to think much about his miniature Maginot Line;
It was what Tommy did and had always done
For as long as we could remember,
Though there were some teachers and an assistant principal or two
Who thought the whole thing was permissive bordering on coddling
(His teacher was a veteran of the wars, and well-insulated by tenure,
But she had grown weary of over-glasses glares and snide asides
When Tommy’s name came up in the staff room,
A death by a thousand cuts and all that),
And one day, while moving one of his desks
To clear space for Simon Says,
It had caught on a sticky spot,
Overturning onto a soon-to-be-fractured toe.
When he came back to school, accompanied by an ungainly cast
And an equally ungainly pair of crutches, his teacher took him aside.
Tommy, she purred, Maybe someone is trying to tell you something.
The other kids all make due with one desk,
And I’m sure you can find a way to as well, don’t you, Tommy?

So Tommy embarked on a great cleansing of his little fiefdom,
Filling several garbage cans with his collected works,
(Math papers and mastodons, bologna and Brobdingnagians)
And afterward he’d kept himself to one standard desk,
Duly filing, returning, and circular-filing his paperwork
As the occasion demanded
(Though one time Murph Dunkirk
Asked Three-Desks if he minded downsizing;
Tommy just shrugged, and said Well, it’s better than a broken foot)
And maybe in his dreams he had a thousand desks,
A thousand tops to fling open,
A thousand repositories for light and legend
Or perhaps he never gave it so much as a second thought,
No way to know now, one supposes,
Though if anything out of the ordinary had come his way,
We would’ve probably heard.
James Bruce Oct 2016
by James Bruce

You’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re a Millard Filmore,
You’re the top!
You’re the Girls of Gilmore,
You’re lucidity’s not Huckabee’s weird views,
You’re an immigrator,
A great debator,
You’re not Ted Cruz!
You’re the style,
Of a Ronald Reagan,
You’re the smile of a foxxy Megyn,
Were you Hillary, you’d be pilloried, and flop!
But if Donald, Ailes’s the bottom, you’re the top!

You’re the top!
You’re the Wall of China,
You’re the top!
You’re acute angina,
You’re hyperbole that’s a felony in Queens,
You’re Rand Paul’s mama,
Barack Obama,
You’re full of beans!
You’re the star,
Of the G.O.P. camp,
You’re a jam on a Christie bridge ramp,
I’m a crippling loan, a Roger Stone, a flop!
But if baby, Jeb’s sunk lower, you’re the top!

You’re the top!
You’re a well-coiffed dandy,
You’re the top!
Your hair’s cotton candy,
You’re assets vast that cast a glow of Trumpf
You’re a Carly visage,
The Greenwich Village,
You’re Friedrich Drumpf!
You’re demure,
You’re a friend of pollsters,
You’re the spur on some heels with holsters
I’m not fit to race, too commonplace, a sop!
But if Donald, I’m rock bottom, you’re the top!
Let the games begin!
Sarah Maher Sep 2018
“The dad I always wanted is about to leave me. How is that fair?”
Words written by Bart Millard

Words that hit me like a ton of bricks.
That’s how I felt with my mom.
In the few years before her death, she became the mom I always wanted  and then just like that, she was gone. Just when I felt like I was getting closer to her, the moments were ripped away from me. It wasn’t fair at all.
But it did give me and Dad a chance to finally get to know each other and have a better relationship. He apparently didn’t want that. He was in a hurry to “fall in love” with someone else so that he didn’t have to get close to me. When the first woman sadly passed away, he didn’t even try then either. Dad has NEVER shown interest in me. He just pretends to around other people. He fools them all.
WEB: An Illinois coal miner before he began to promote himself as a healer in the 20s, the colorful, dynamic Hoxsey mixed his medicine with flamboyant public statements that skillfully contrasted his populist heritage with the growing elitism and hauteur of the American medical profession at mid-twentieth century (Young, 1967). In common with many advocates of unconventional therapies, Hoxsey considered cancer a systemic disease, however localized its manifestations might appear to be. Hence his therapy aims to restore "physiological normalcy" to a disturbed metabolism throughout the body, with emphasis on purgation, to help carry away wastes from the tumors he believed his herbal mixtures caused to necrotize (Hoxsey, 1956, 44-48, 60).
The most controversial aspect of Hoxsey's method, in the eyes of orthodox medicine, was the dark brown liquid which he used to treat internal cancer. For many years Hoxsey refused to divulge the formula for this substance, generating a frenzy of vituperation in the pages of JAMA over a period of decades. He later gave several differing accounts of its origin (Young, 1967, 362). According to his autobiography (Hoxsey, 1956, 62-64), it was his great-grandfather, a horse ******* named John Hoxsey, who developed it at mid-nineteenth century, out of grasses and flowering wild plants which John took from the pasture where a favorite stallion, afflicted with a cancerous growth, grazed daily until the growth necrotized. According to Harry, John Hoxsey reasoned that the wild plants had caused the stallion's recovery. He therefore concocted a liquid out of "red clover and alfalfa, buckthorn and prickly ash" (and other plants which John could not identify), gathered from the area where the stallion had apparently cured himself.
By 1950, court decisions had sufficiently broadened the labelling requirements of the 1938 Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act to enable the FDA to act against Hoxsey's interstate shipments. In the ensuing litigation, Hoxsey revealed the composition of his long-secret preparation. He explained that, depending on the type and stage of cancer, and the individual patient's condition, he added to a basic solution of cascara (Rhamnus purshiana) and potassium iodide one or more of the following plant substances: poke root (Phytolacca americana); burdock root (Arctium lappa); barberry or berberis root (Berberis vulgaris); buckthorn bark (Rhamnus frangula); Stillingia root (Stillingia sylvatica); and prickly ash bark (Zanthoxylum americanum) (Young, 1967, 375; Hoxsey, 1956, 45-46; JAMA, 1951, 252; JAMA, 1954, 667; Farnsworth, 1988).
In addition to an extensive literature attesting the folk use of Hoxsey's herbal ingredients in the treatment of cancer (Hartwell, 1967 and 1971), the orthodox medical literature at that time contained at least one suggestive article about one of them, based on empirical observation by a regular, orthodox practitioner. In 1896, in the Medical and Surgical Reporter (Philadelphia), a surgeon described the action of poke root as retarding the growth of epitheliomas and increasing the patient's survival time, if it was given before ulceration became extensive (Millard, 1896, 421). Despite bibliographic tools that make it easy to search the medical literature back through the 19th century and beyond, this article had apparently escaped the attention of the AMA, the FDA, and the NCI.

The Saga of Harry Hoxsey
https://youtu.be/B9CvND_UykQ

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Amygdalin is a natural anti-cancer agent : PMID: 31958042

IN BRIEF Concerning Cancer: 1. Take a pregnancy test just after waking up. For men a positive result means either cancer or a false positive. Take another test the next day. If a man gets 3 positive results then likely he has cancer somewhere. For women a positive result means (if she's able to become pregnant) she's pregnant or she has cancer, or she's pregnant and she has cancer, or a false positive (the test result is wrong). 2. Several positive pregnancy test results = cancer. What next? STOP eating red meat, sugar, corn syrup. STOP drinking *****. STOP (or at least cut back on) smoking. 3. Eat fresh pineapple & papaya. Take vitamin B17 (at least 1 gram daily) and wheat grass and/or barley grass liquid or capsules (they're rich in vitamin B17), on a full stomach daily (you can't overdose on them ~ they're not poisonous). Take a zinc supplement. Take pancreatic enzymes. REVIEW: TAKE pregnancy tests to detect cancer. TAKE vitamin B17 (and as many of the listed vitamins as you can, especially zinc). Eat fresh pineapple & papaya. STOP eating red meat & cane sugar. It will take several weeks on B17 therapy to turn out negative pregnancy test results. The tumor WILL NOT shrink much even after the cancer is gone because only 10% of the tumor was cancer. The tumor MAY swell temporarily as the vitamin B17 kills malignant cells. NOTE: Vitamin B17 therapy WILL NOT destroy the tumor! Vitamin B17 therapy will destroy the malignant cells (cancerous cells) of the tumor and within the tumor. Only 5% to 10% of the cells comprising a tumor are cancerous cells. In time the tumorous growth will be absorbed, in whole or in part. Unless the tumor is cosmetically displeasing, impinging nerves or blood vessels or hampering normal ****** function then let it be.

The life expectancy for American medical doctors is 58 years.
The life expectancy for Haitian voodoo witch doctors is 62.7 years.

WEB: Dr. Dean Burk (March 21, 1904 – October 6, 1988), head of the cytochemistry section of the National Cancer Institute has reported that in a series of tests on animal tissue, the B17 had no effect, but released so much cyanide and benzaldehyde when it came in contact with cancer cells that not one of them could survive. He said, “When we add Laetrile to a cancer culture under the microscope, we see the cancer cells dying off like flies.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the Web : In 1972, Dr. Dale Danner, a podiatrist from Santa Paula, Ca., developed a pain in the right leg and a severe cough. X-rays revealed carcinoma of both lungs and what appeared to be massive secondary tumors in the leg. The cancer was inoperable and resistant to radio therapy. The prognosis was: incurable and fatal. At the insistence of his mother, Dr. Danner agreed to try Laetrile, although he had no faith in its effectiveness. Primarily, just to please her, he obtained a large supply in Mexico. But he was convinced from what he had read in medical journals that it was nothing but quackery and a fraud. "Perhaps it was even dangerous," he thought, for he noticed from the literature that it contained cyanide. Within a few weeks the pain and the coughing had progressed to the point where no amount of medication could hold it back. Forced to crawl on his hands and knees, and unable to sleep for three days and nights, he became despondent and desperate. Groggy from the lack of sleep, from the drugs, and from the pain, finally he turned to his supply of Laetrile. Giving himself one more massive dose of medication, hoping to bring on sleep, he proceeded to administer the Laetrile into an artery. Before losing consciousness, Dr. Danner had succeeded in taking at least an entire ten-day supply -- and possibly as high as a twenty day supply -- all at once. When he awoke thirty six hours later, much to his amazement, not only was he still alive, but also the cough and pain were greatly reduced. His appetite had returned, and he was feeling better than he had in months. Reluctantly he had to admit that Laetrile was working. So he obtained an additional supply and began routine treatment with smaller doses. Three months later he was back at work.
Watch: G. Edward Griffin's "World Without Cancer." https://youtu.be/tPADSv3XAv0
Qualyxian Quest Jan 2023
I've tried to break free of America
Have I succeeded at all?
Misty River Eden
Royal Albert Hall

In Dublin the Book of Kells
Charming Malahide
Come out ye black and tans!
George W. Lied

Taipei 101
Street vendor wonton soup
The Greek Freak on the break
Throw him the Alley Oop!

My Brother Sam is Dead
Goodbye Millard Fillmore
Where Angels Fear to Tread
She cried more more more!

      Inner Harbor, Baltimore
Qualyxian Quest Jan 2023
She's sort of a wish or a Wonder
Of what might have been
She reminds me of my mother
Caring. Feminine.

America is quite far gone.
The precipice in sight
Strife through the days
Qanon Trumpfuck Nights

Millard Fillmore
The 13th president
Can't help us now
Alien residence?

My high school had a race riot
Maybe yours did too
First they come for the terrorists
Then they come for you

            Whatcha gonna do?
Qualyxian Quest Jul 2023
History more concrete than philosophy
And far less romantic
War after meaningless war
Terror in the Night

I mention Millard Fillmore
He tells me of Japan
I'm gonna go down, go down
But not without a fight

Not a fan of Thomas Jefferson
The Uber American Hypocrite
Graduate of George Mason
Still see 2 green lights

The Zealot and the Emancipator
Gonna have lunch in Harper's Ferry
I John Brown
Still the puzzling plight

             Brown not White
Qualyxian Quest Jun 2023
I would tell her
Hers is a fragile beauty to me
Fragile like stained glass
Like friendship. Like folk.

I disappoint myself
But I struggle on
Gamla Stan!
Millard Fillmore, James Polk

But not me
3733
xie xie ni
Diet Coke

She's unique
Ms. Susan Meek
Hide and Seek

                     Old Oak

                        Woke.
Qualyxian Quest Feb 2023
So in 6th grade
I had to report on Millard Fillmore
The 13th President
Not exactly now a household name

He was a Know Nothing
Was Socrates the same?
But American Know Nothings are racists
Unlike Socrates, they deserve the blame

Not Fillmore, but Baltimore,
Is where I stake my claim
I have an Inner Harbor
She is my Secret Flame

Watched the Ravens play
Saw an Orioles perfect game
Our friendship had to end
Such a crying shame

               But I still aim.
my brother Sam is dead
6th grade book
Millard Fillmore report to do
So I take a look

Catholic religious background
But I'm public school
Cordelia is truly noble
King Lear is a Fool

— The End —