“Bonk, bonk bonk,” goes the knuckle against the glass window in Wrack’s room. “Who is outside my window at three in the morning,” asks Wracks?  “Bonk, Bonk, Bonk, meet me outside,” says BG.  “bonk, bonk, and bonk, its me BG.” Says BG.  “Where is my dog,” asks Wracks. “I gave Punkin a milk bone and put him to sleep,” says BG.  “How did you get in my house,” asks Wracks who now is wide awake. “I reached through the dog door and opened it up,” explains BG. “I did not want to wake your parents so I put Punkin to bed and came around to your window.  Meet me in back.”   “I have to put on some pants,” says Wracks, “give me a minute.”  Wracks exits his room, walks down the hall, closes the hall door and looks at the cushion where Punkin the house dog sleeps.  Punkin dozes upside down with a smile on his face and stirs when Wracks walks by.   He opens his eyes, makes a whining noise and goes back to sleep.  Wracks let BG in the back door. BG wears a cardigan sweater and a large woodsman hat because it is winter in the best climate in North America on the west coast in December.  “The con is on,” says BG.  “It should be about eight to ten feet at the point and bigger at indicator.”  “A new swell is hitting today and then it will drop tomorrow. The con is on and we should go now and be out in the water at sunup. The tide is low at two PM so the swell should peak in the morning and then drop with the tide. Let’s have breakfast.  What do you have? “   “We have eggs and toast,” says Wracks.  “I’ll have two eggs sunny side up and two pieces of toast with butter,” states BG. Wracks takes out a pan from underneath the stove, adds butter to the bottom of the pan and turns on the electric range and then drops four eggs into the melting and then sizzling butter.  Five minutes later the two sit at the kitchen table and have breakfast with two cups of Yuban fresh brewed coffee.  “It will not be as big as last time we went but it should be real good and have excellent shape. “  BG takes a draw on his coffee and finishes his eggs. “Bring some gas money and a pack of Pall mall Gold.   We will need the nicotine.”  Says BG.  He rises from his chair, takes his dish and sets it in the sink like he would at home.  “Ill gets my stuff, “says wracks. The dog spins around right side up and yawns.  “Ill see you out front, “says BG as he exits the back door in the dark in December as the mist from the ocean puts a shade and shadow on everything.   The dog goes back to sleep.  Wracks gets his jacket, his coke and bread, his paraffin bar, a pack of cigarettes, two dollars in change, and an O’Neill super suit, and goes out the back door into the garage.  A red diamond tail Nat Pro gun sits in the rafters and Wracks pulls it down with a hook and brings his gear outside the gate to underneath the big pine tree on Bacon way as the street lights illuminate the misty air about the night. The green General motors durabuilt engine econocar hatch sits open and Cool is loading his surfboard into the car between the seats.  “I invited him along, “says BG. “The more the merrier.”  Cool turns his head in a Mexican pullover with a hood and says,  “Hey brau,”  He then takes a draw on his cigarette and finishes a Heineken beer in a dark green bottle then heaves the empty into the neighbor’s yard.   “tonight you are going coffin,” says BG.  “Wait till I get my motorcycle helmet,” says Wracks.  Wracks dashes back into the back, into the garage and extracts a black bell motocross helmet and puts it on.   The three surfboards sit in the middle of the car separating the two driver seats and the back folds down into a large cargo area.  The gear of the three surfers sits on the right behind the “passenger side,   On the left will go Wracks coffin style. “Get in,” says BG, we have to get going.”  Wracks climbs into the cargo section, sits down facing back and lays into the car like count Dracula going to sleep.  BG closes the Hatchback over him, enters the car, ignites the ignition, puts the car into gear and the three set off into history. Down Bacon, past Deadman’s, onto Quez lane and then sunrise avenue and Wracks looks up at the stars with his helmet on, chin strap on and starts to fall asleep and the car accelerates like mad up highway number one.  “We are going to take the freeway today,” stipulates BG.  Up Pang oh road the hatchback flies and the tires screech around the hairpin curves until the plateau and the freeway 101 appears as a green sign in the headlights at night perpendicular to the direction they were going.   Entering the onramp the car flies and BG accelerates until the car is in forth gear and floored at night with the high beams on traveling on the 101 north.  Wracks awakens from sleep to see the stars and the car fills with smoke and the windows are half way down and the wind whips around Wracks helmet, the icy coolness bringing him back to life.   Within a short time the three arrive at the junction, the junction of California street and highway one, and the ocean makes sounds and the moon sets largely on the ocean, illuminating the way to the little corner.   The little corner is the most consistent surf break in SB and gets a northwest, a hard north and a straight west swell.  BG says today the swell sweeps in straight west and Wracks dozes coffin style in the hatchback.   Kool becomes animated and says, “let’s stop at the little clam for provisions.”  BG acknowledges and the car comes to a stop a half hour later at a little market, in a shack, set against s a hill with a gas station a half block away and the ocean rumbles and roars.  BG buys a hot dog and a pastrami sandwich heated in the store microwave.  Kool gets a sandwich and a bag of candy.   Wracks stays inside the car.   The two eat in silence.   Then BG says, “Lets get going and be out in the water at sunrise.”  Kool acknowledges with a hand gesture.  BG ignites the car and heads out on the highway. Within ten minutes the three are at the little corner and pull into the big parking lot made especially for wave riders surrounding them with cyclone fencing and concrete blockades.   The night closes and the scene begins to lighten into a dark grey and morning arrives.  Eight cars situate inside the parking area.  Die-hard wave riders who scoff a normal life sit in their cabs or hang out of the cargo doors of their vans waiting for first light.  Sharks cruise in the darkness and light sends them back out to deep water until the sun sets again.  A number of young ladies arrive to watch the wave rider’s surf the long thin tubular swells of the little corner.  The little corner breaks mostly on a west or northwest swell.  On these disturbances, the wave’s line up perpendicular to the point and break with ruler straightness in cylindrical almond-shaped tubes.  From the outer first point three separate tube sections exist and a wave rider can situate his or her self strategically at each section to ride deep inside the wave.  The little corner holds a west swell up to fifteen feet, and then it starts to break erratically and close out.  On a rare hard north swell that refracts off the Channel Islands onto the west facing beach, thirty foot waves will break for a morning and then disappear in the afternoon.  For these waves people dedicate their lives and wait and watch for the perfect big day to arrive.  When it breaks, the little corner draws addicts from all over the coastal region of southern California.  Cool is the first out of the car. BG uncorks wracks who arises life a vampire from his tomb, the shucks the helmet and saunters with the other two down the little trail unto the base of the beach to catch a glimpse of what morning brings.   Today, the three are lucky, a solid ten to twelve-foot swell sends lines three to five at a time to break down the point into the bay.  The morning starts, the light arrives and a cool offshore breeze holds up the waves unto perfect spinning vortexes larger than ten feet and growling.  Cool screams out an unspeakable word and runs back to the green hatchback along with BG.  The hatch open, three wetsuits hang on the car and wracks shares the bar of paraffin with the other two, and white streaks appear on the surface of the three long surfboards. With boards in hand, the three run down the trail, through the flotsam and jetsam of wood and seaweed up to the point.  Timing the sets, they launch during a lull and are outside.   The sun comes up over the mountain interior to the little corner point and the day begins.  About twenty people ride the waves that morning and enough waves arrive to give each his or her own to enjoy.  When the sun raises to directly overhead, the offshore wind stops and the ocean becomes completely smooth and glassy like a window pane.  Three wave sets pour through endlessly.  Within an hour the wind reverses into a westward flow and the ocean surface starts to roughen up and chop.  BG turns to Wracks and says, “Were going in.” Wracks starts to paddle to shore without waiting for a wave to ride and then arrives on the beach by going along with the white water.    Cool waits up at the car. BG opens the car, Cool grabs a bag of candy and starts eating.  Wracks strips off his wetsuit and adorns his druid robe.  Cool takes off his wetsuit then noticing some young ladies down the parking lot, starts dancing stark naked and singing.  The girls laugh and blush and Wracks stows his gear in the hatchback and modestly puts on his corduroy jeans and tee-shirt and then his jacket.  BG smokes a Pall mall gold and drinks a coke.   The waves still pour in and the parking lot shows full.   Surfers run down to the beach with their boards and the wind is a light five knots on shore.   BG tosses his cigarette butt and says, “Lets go.  Wracks get in the coffin.”  Wracks dons the black bell helmet and descends into the hatch.  Cool drinks a beer and tosses the can as close to a trash receptacle as he can.  The green Chevrolet launches southward at light speed. “I told you so, I told you so,” chides BG….  Ten to twelve feet slides and churning green tubes.  What more can you ask for.”

“I have to go work for my father,” says Cool  “it is mellow.”    Wracks as customary fades into oblivion as the car enters the 101 at California street.    The three arrive back at Bacon way at three thirty pm.  “Service with a smile,” says BG.  “Wracks, get out, I have a new destination.”  Wracks grabs his gear in a brown grocery bag and plucks his red NatPro gun from the car.   “Thank you very much BG that was a session I will always remember.  BG and cool accelerate in a spinning circle and rocket up Deadman’s land to Charmed street where Cool lives.  Wracks stows his board in the rafters and washes his super suit with cold hose water.   The little dog sits on the kitchen step, growls and wags his tail.   Wracks enters the house.  “What’s for dinner” asks Wracks. “Grab a frozen bag of chicken and microwave it, “says mom.   “Where were you?” “I was surfing big waves up in SB with BG,” explains Wracks.  “go shower off and do your homework,” says Mom.   Wracks walks to his bedroom, the falls into his bed and is asleep.  The day closes, and night arrives again and the dark brooding in the silence becomes a reality.  Wracks wakes up when it is dark, makes his meal, boils water for a cup of coffee and reads by his little desk lamp.  The dog saunters in through the doggy door and falls asleep on his little cushion and wracks turns on the evening lights and locks up the house.  A light shines from under the door in Grandma’s room and Grandma is watching Tony Orlando on television.  “Do you need dinner,” asks Wracks.  “No she says and smiles and holds a speaker up to her ear.  “I already ate.”  The day ends, the night begins and another page turns over in the book of Wracks life.  Today he rode long thin tubular waves for a quarter-mile ride while the world turns.  No one noticed except Wracks and maybe his little dog and tomorrow he will wake up and read the Sunday paper and maybe go to church.  Then a new week begins again and wracks grow a little older.

The world is made of money.  Money rules government directs emotion, colors relationships and moves history.  There is a way families can keep their money and pass it to the next generation.  This way certain families regardless of name continue onward until the final conflict resolves. This way is the Basteur method. 

Throughout history struggle and conflict exists between the have and have nots, the Muslim and the Christians, the communists and the capitalists, the black and the white, the big and the small and more. It all boils down to money and the way the money is handled, stored and allocated to the inheritors and the next generations.  The families that control the earth on each continent periodically repeat this method to solidify their rule and rid the land of evil inhabitants.  Using this method the well-to-do battle the want to be with very little casualty as the victims can never identify the perpetrators to retaliate and the method reiterates to finality until fate sets the stage again for another foray. 

This method depends on a dupe, a fall guy, a fool, a mark, or whatever he or she becomes.   He or she is the inheritor of something of extreme value or fame, and all the bad guys want to marry into it or take it from them.  The fortunate play the game until all the unsavory players are eliminated by fate or disease and the dupe finally wins by a narrow margin. If the mark dies in the process, the game is still a win.  Unfortunately for the dupe the method takes a lifetime.

Just like the Montagues’ and the Capulets, and the Christians that pursue the pagans to each civilization, the rulers maintain order by the method.   The method begins with silence and trickery and the secret is held better than the location of the Landing Site for the D-day invasion.  Everyone knows the secret except the fool and the rulers play him or her until the termination or final fruition of the game.  There exists a failsafe, there always does and a woman from the ruling family has a child of the dupe without his or her knowledge and raises them separately in case the opposition kill the fall guy.  Other girls in his age group may bear a child by a brief tryst for added insurance.  The children raise separately by foster families to guard the secret that the fool shall never know. 

In this one instance, a male child is raised in a foster family of protagonists and bonded to a brother who is unrelated but is given the same name without him knowing.  The child is socialized by physically juxtaposing him in childish activities with his peers who exist as a group of people who want to inherit or marry into the money that this dupe represents.  Once the active miscreants try to collect their inheritance by committing murder,, they develop cancer or a drug habit or die in an accident until everyone in the peer group evaporates giving the dupe a chance to begin their life.  If one of the peers tries to kill this fall guy and he survives, he is delivered and given a dose of atropine so he does not remember details of the event.  This way the fool never realizes someone tried to kill him so he cannot retaliate.  Usually, the well to do try to monopolize the situation by blacklisting the dupe against his will.  The dupe never employed fully or realizing his potential lives a life of poverty by marrying someone who is willing to put up with his or her misguided failings.  Once married, the illegitimate inheritors pressure the spouse to let them in the house at night, through a window so they can slowly poison the fool to death. They threaten to hurt the children in some sort of clandestine way or subvert their life the way they did to the fool.  Food is tainted in the household and the fool is forced to live on candy and cold coffee in order to survive. Time ticks away the fool nears retirement.  All these people develop chronic afflictions and slowly die off as the governors of the method adulterate their bodies and soul with every opportunity and watch over the fool.   As stated earlier, it is immaterial if the fool survives the inquisition by family and inheritors over their lifetime.  He or she lives in poverty and eats sale food and starches as do the squalid poor of each civilization.  If the fool dies, the fabricators have an illegitimate child to assume the reigns of the estate. 

The object for the majority of life is the keeping. This lifetime is a chance for the incredibly affluent to afflict and eliminate them while the antagonists and perpetrators are all together in one place.    The mark sits in a cell or a room or a small house and works as a janitor or housewife hoping for the best.  Only a strong belief in religion so well cultivated in youth saves him or her from self-destruction. People will have nothing to do with him and their family want him to end for his inheritance and all food is adulterated with sedatives and worse in the hope for the final end of the supplicant.  It is the keeping that is significant.   This person removes from social interaction, accomplishment and business, fine food, and entertainment until age prevents him or her from enjoying it.  Once the people that tried to extinguish the life of the supplicant expire then his or her life can begin.   At this point the dupe moves to a new state or country and repeats what is left of their life in an amicable fashion.   Should this person survive, and their spouse dies, they will marry a spinster or divorcee of the ruling family so upon his or her demise they inherit at least half of the estate.  Upon completion of the cycle, the ruling families continue with a bulk of the wealth until another opportunity arises to perform the method again.  This continues throughout history and the same people have the money, hold the money, and decree who makes the money for another millennium.  Woe to the dupe who suffers the humiliation of being used for their lifespan for the purpose of conveying an estate and plaguing the bad guys. Maybe it was Voltaire who said “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer and this act by conniving families only proves this utterance beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Time moves on.  A legendary surf rider named Miklos Dora once said, “History does not repeat itself but it does return for another engagement”.  The incredibly wealthy will execute the Basteur Method through time immortal until God decides he has had enough. We are all the children of God created in his image but when He moves, it is profound, exquisite, and final.  Woe in each generation the object of the Basteur method.  They are used to draw in the opposition all in one place.  

All night long high winds and rain that goes sideways fusillade Ocean View.  Lightning booms and light arcs through the window shades and then sleep overtakes Wracks in his little room in the corner, shrouded by trees in the enclave next to campus.  Saturday Morning arrives and sunlight beams across the window onto the living room.  Cool sits at the kitchen table along with Koest, an old friend from tranquil Hills.  

“When did Koest get here,” asks Wracks

“He came in last night and you were asleep.” Says Kool.

“I checked out Campus point and Coal oil point and they are at least fifteen to twenty feet. Lets hit it.” Says Wracks.

“No!” “We are going to surf El Cap this morning.”  States Kool.

“I’m ready,” says Koest.

“I have to have a cigarette and a cup of coffee to get me up,” says Wracks

“I will be loading the van,” says Kool.

El Capitan State Beach Park exists as a special place, a hidden place, a secluded place, far enough away that nobody goes there.  To arrive at El Capitan, he or she drives north on Pacific Coast highway one for two hours until they see the big green and brown sign to turn off.  A few miles up the coast from El Cap, situates the City of Gaviota and Gaviota Point State Beach.  Out in the lineup at El Capitan, a rider can see the point of Gaviota in the distance.  Looking in from the air, El Capitan lays as a large comma-shaped point oriented in the southwest direction.  Boulders, stones, and pebbles form the large point and a campsite resides inland surrounded by large pine trees.  A parking area situates at the tip of the point so day users can enjoy the scenery.  Out in the ocean sit the majestic Channel Islands and the water is dark grayish-blue.  From a surfer’s point of view, El Capitan provides a point break type wave that tunnels in six inches of water.  The breaking wave throws inward farther out than it is high.  Although not as pretty as the Banzai Pipeline, El Capitan point breaks with more force and more danger.  The downside of El Capitan State Beach Point stems from its geography.  For the most part, the beach sits in the shadow of San Nicolas Island and Santa Rosa to the south.  For this reason, on a large West swell, El Capitan State Beach point will break half the size of Campus point and Rincon on the same west swell.  Additionally, the city of Gaviota to the north pumps all the farm waste and sewage directly into the ocean and the area has the notoriety as another shark pit in the red triangle of death.  The factor that allures all wave riders is the reality that El Capitan Point waves break in a tube that throws out farther than the wave is high.  For example, a six-foot wave will be a six-foot square cavern breaking down a long point in shallow water. Today four other wave riders brave the white sharks and sit in a pack at the peak. The time to surf El Cap is when the swell is really big and it will be smaller.   The tide looms high and backwashes from the point balloons the waves into huge monstrosities of pain.  Where Campus turns at twenty feet clean rulers, El Capitan at this moment vomits ten-foot ugly monsters down a gravelly, rock-strewn point. 

“I’m out,” says Koest. “I may never get the chance to surf it this big ever again.’

“Yeah Dah,” screams Kool.  “I’m goofy foot,” and he waxes his board with paraffin, smokes a cigarette and drinks a Heineken lager beer.  Kool pulls out a large beef stick food item, chews it down and washes the bolus down his throat with beer.   After hiding his car keys, Kool grabs his red Nat Pro pintail gun and runs to the water and is in and paddles.  A huge set rolls in and Kool pushes through a feathering lip and makes it outside alive and unscathed.  Koest and Wracks slowly wax-up and survey the lineup.  The sets arrive every twenty minutes and the biggest wave is either the first or second one.  Wracks and Koest hit the beach, time the sets, and set outward.  Wracks waits outside as usual so not to compete for waves in the pack.  Wracks want the big one.  Within a half-hour, a big one rolls in, Wracks commits and is engulfed a huge disgorging, upchucking beast.  At the bottom, Wraks turns, drifts up the face, sets his edge, puts his hands together, and prays.  The wave turns in front of him, closes around him, convulses, and disgorges the wayfarer after four seconds of pure speed.  Wracks glides out of the thing, makes a few turns, and kicks out of the wave.  As Wraks paddles back up to the peak with the pack, Koest screams by on a mutant clone, and Wracks see him grit his teeth as he holds his rail backside and accelerates past him.  Kool has the time of his life, screams, and starts to attract a big shark.  On his third wave, Wracks breaks the nose off of his board in the shallow water but paddles back out and surfs a nose less board covered with duct tape. 

“I might never catch El Cap this big ever again,” thinks Wracks.  Wracks is right.  He will never see El Capitan state beach like this ever again. 

“We are leaving,” says Kool “The waves drop in size as we speak.”  “Let’s go surf some lefts.”

The Three throw their boards into the brown and yellow van, strip their wet suits, have a cigarette, dress and enter the van.  Koest rides shotgun.  Wracks lie on the bed in the back with the boards.  Kool lights a cigarette and pulls another Heineken from his cooler, pops the top with an opener, and gulps the whole bottle down in a single draw.   The tuned exhaust on the van booms a raspy growl and the three head out of El Capitan State Beach Park.  Halfway done, the day rolls on, the sun, beams down proudly and a few clouds from the previous big storm remain.  Ten minutes down south from El Capitan, sits a deep water reef that breaks left.  At this instant, the reef shows at least twice overhead.  

“I am going out,” says Kool

“I too, says Koest.

The two drag on cold, cold, wetsuits, wax their boards, and head down to the reef.  Wracks sit in his Druid robe, smokes a cigarette, and watches.  The nose of his Nat Pro homebrew board will half to be glassed back on his board at home.  Wracks do not want to risk ruining the entire board so he refrains from joining the two and surveys the world.   Kool and Koest nab big waves on the reef and surf until they cannot paddle anymore.  Arriving quietly back at the van, they dress, and the crew drive down PCH back to Island view community. Back at the apartment, the gear stows inside, and Wracks sits down on the couch.

“I have to do homework,” says Wracks

“Me and Koest are going to Big D’s, says Kool

“Big D is having a party.”

The Wracks never has the chance to return to El Capitan State Beach Park.  Maybe the location sits too far away.  Maybe El Cap does not share the things that make a return visit possible.  Maybe the place looms too remote, too secluded, and too unpopulated to return to conscious memory.  Wracks never get to test the secret of El Capitan State Beach Park Point.  A local that day confides to him to check the break on the next huge southwest swell.  The Secret of El Capitan Point is this:  the spot locates exactly at the gap between Santa Rosa Island and San Nicholas Island.  On a big southwest swell, the waves sneak through the gap and focus on El Capitan State Beach.  The local says, “El Capitan breaks biggest and has the best form on a big southwest swell contrary to popular opinion.”  El Capitan breaks better in the summer and when time exists for you, be there on a big southwest swell.” Wracks never receives the luck to test the secret suggestion.  Possibly the local wants Wracks to be eaten by a big white shark, in the summer when they are most active.  The secret remains untested until the next generation in their youthful exuberance happens upon El Cap in the summer, on a road trip, when southern hemisphere cyclones generate huge swells.  Wracks sits in his little den, with a light, a cigarette, a cup of coffee, and a loaf of bread and study Newtonian Calculus.  In the den, in the apartment surrounded by a grove of trees in an obscured location shaded from the sun, Wracks stays nurturing Cools hydroponic garden until the quarter concludes and the stay in Island View comes to an end.

The medical establishment and the FDA inundate the populace with admonitions about how horrible fat is to eat and that everyone should avoid a fatty diet like the plague.  A fatty diet causes heart disease, diabetes and premature aging.  The establishment tells everyone to eat lean meat although meat is about sixty percent fat.  A proper diet consists of lean meat carbohydrates and vegetables: a square meal deal.  This paper serves to educate the public on the proper consideration and evaluation of fat and its inclusion or omission from a good diet. 

There exist two different types of fat: good fat and bad fat.   Bad fat derives mainly from meat, including chicken which is said to include less fat.  Bad fat is saturated and usually contains upwards from 20 to 24 carbon units in its aliphatic chain.  Bad fat has no double bonds.  Bad fat is broken down into two carbon fragments via acetyl-coenzyme a and enters the mitochondrion for energy production or used to synthesize cholesterol and glucogenic hormones or bile acids. Logically we can assume that a diet high in bad fats will plug the vasculature on its route to storage in fat cells or lead to diabetes by indirect stimulation of cortisol synthesis.  These are the main pathways for saturated fat, others exist.  Living on a diet high in saturated fat ultimately causes premature death.  God intended man to eat meat mainly when the crops failed and/or in winter there was nothing else to eat.  

Enter good fat.  Good fat are hydrocarbon chains usually from 14 to eighteen carbons of length.  These fatty acids usually sport a cis double bond in the three position hence the name 3-omega fatty acids.  The double bond can occur elsewhere in polyunsaturated fats up to eighteen carbon units long as in linoleic acid.  Good fats derive from grain, nuts and vegetables. Good fats have an entirely different metabolic fate but can serve as energy substrate like bad fat. Good fats by way of their double bonds serve as functional groups in arachidonic acid hormone: hormones that govern vasodilation and cellular effector function. Animals fed on a diet deficient in good fat are sterile.   Good fats form brain fat in the form of ceramide and sphingomyelin.  These fatty phospholipids enable brain function and the brain cannot grow or function correctly without them.  We can logically assume that humans that live on a meat diet alone will exhibit hypertension and low intelligence.  The big kicker, the fact that will astound all readers is that the heart mainly relies on small to medium chain fatty acids for 60% of its energy requirements. This fact presents in the tome “Ganong’s Physiology”.  The heart requires fat to live a healthy life and that fat is good fat not bad fat and saturated fat will eventually plug this essential organ that essentially determines the length of our existence here on earth.  

Fatty acid metabolism is a treatise that consumes at least three pages in “Wikipedia”.   This essay serves as a premise and reminder that life is not complex and that eating a lot of good fat in nuts and grains will not harm us, rather it will extend our existence.  Strive to ingest that good fat that is also present in eggs, dairy and fish in excess to the bad fats present in meaty animal products.  I promise the life you lead will respond accordingly. 

Cholesterol is the substance that gives rigidity to the cell membrane according to the hypothesis of the Daniella phospholipid bi-layer model.   It is produced by the body in small quantities in direct proportion to inheritance.   Some people produce very little cholesterol but the Pima Indians of North America produce a lot of it because they evolved as vegetarians.  Human beings absorb cholesterol from their foodstuffs especially those humans that consume much meat.  Human beings try to excrete cholesterol from their body in the fecal stream in the form of bile acids, bile acids are reabsorbed in the entero-hepatic circulation and reused in the body as membrane items and also modified into steroid hormones.  In general, the human body aims to eliminate cholesterol in the form of bile acids because in excess this yellow waxy substance plugs up the micro-circulation by forming myo-intimal plaques that block blood circulation and oxygen transport.  The effects of cholesterolosis or cholesterol poisoning are ageing, atrophy of the internal organs, stroke and heart attack due to paucity of oxygen transport in the heart.  

Figure 1cholesterol

Figure 2bile acids

The race then in longevity is ingesting enough cholesterol to make steroid hormones but not enough to cause atherosclerosis.  Vegetarians live longer primarily because they do not ingest vast amounts of cholesterol present in meat.  The stool of a heavy meat eater is odorific and putrid while the excrement of a pure vegetarian has very little odor and is more voluminous.  In addition, the high content of saturated fats presents in meat through acetyl coenzyme A build a per phenanthrene molecule two carbons at a time making more cholesterol and bile acids.  One may assert that cholesterol is a main metabolite in the branching point of bile acids and steroid hormones.  It is essential to limit the amount of intake of cholesterol in meat and aim to excrete that which is absorbed by eating vegetable mass enriched in sitosterol, a similar compound that helps man bind and eliminate cholesterol.   

Figure 3cortisone

Cortisone, a steroid hormone similar to cholesterol, acts on the DNA of the cell, is transported to the nucleus of the cell and produces a net synthesis of mrna and DNA.   Cortisone governs the immune system, maintains cellular integrity and regulates glucose balance.  Sex hormones are similar but exist in a microcosm of action related to reproduction.   As scientists we see that some cholesterol is necessary for maintaining life but too much is anathema.  The current dogma of a meat-based diet including meat and vegetables is really a superposition of the meat industry to sell more product. A diet consisting of grain, dairy, and eggs seemingly would be much more healthful.  All animal products contain cholesterol but by net content, meat contains the most.  It is interesting to note that fish contains equal amounts of protein but half the cholesterol of land-based meat.  

It seems everything that God gives us is a two-edged sword, some is necessary, too much is lethal.  Only children who have to grow brain tissue and body mass really need meat in their diet. Adults do not.  Possibly, huge hulking football players and track stars may need a meat diet to facilitate protein teardown and turnover.  Whatever the case it seems prudent to eliminate intake of cholesterol by any means possible even if it means living on oatmeal and fresh cream.  

I don’t know why but it seems everything that is delicious and fun is either, immoral, unethical or toxic.  Why this is so I don’t know why but hopefully someday I will understand the true meaning of life.  Until then,  eat very little meat, a lot of vegetables, tithe your church and hope for the better in our turbulent tumultuous world.  

A long time ago when life was a new wonderment every day and the delight of growing up in a prosperous economy overwhelmed the senses, Christmas came into being once again.  There was the huge flocked tree obtained from the local supermarket and the homemade ornaments and the bright incandescent lights that shine all night because energy is cheap and the Christian family together in December. The cold, Crisp transparent evening with bright stars set in darkness that surrounds the houses that choose to decorate for the holidays comes into being and sets the stage for the upcoming new year.  Grandpa and Grandma are coming for Christmas dinner and they brought all the gifts last week and put them underneath the big flocked tree with a thousand lights.  Toys and chocolates and fruit boxes and clothes and everything a child could and ever would dream of owning. 

It is five o’clock and already dark and the white Ford Fairlane pulls up in front of the lighted porch on Bacon way.  Grandpa and Grandma get out of the car with big smiles.  Wracks and the Fonz stand in the front hallway waiting for them to enter. Louis is not a big man but he was but the two surgeries he suffered shrank him at least two inches and all that remains of his dark wavy hair is a bald head.  Grandma is petite with overly fine hair with a reddish tint to it.  They both wear thick woolen overcoats that define the cold weather in the coldest month of the year in California known as December. Grandpa takes the main reclining chair in the living and dining room, lights up a big Roi Tan cigar and puffs.  Smoke fills the room but no one cares because dad is a smoker too.  Grandma goes into the kitchen to help Norma prepare the Christmas meal and Grandpa reads the business page and studies the stock market.  The Wracks and the Fonz sit in the convertible sofa opposite the big reclining chair and give Grandpa Company while swilling two Roy Rogers alcohol-less cocktails made by Dad from his convertible bar over the television set.

Amerada oil booms grandpa from behind the business page

American airlines is the one to watch he states firmly afterwards.

It’s time to eat says mom.  Everyone come to the table.

The nicest piece of furniture at the Wracker house is the dining room table.  It is made of black walnut with all the French artistry woven in and with two planks inserted in the convertible chassis it can sit up to ten people.  Tonight it is six and the black table adorns with wedding china in white with roses and sterling silver cutlery, four pieces at each setting.  Pine cones form a Christmas centerpiece and each setting has a wine and a water glass in crystal.  Christmas fare is from Grandpa, he ordered specially a large eye of round roast roasted to medium rare because he felt that this was the most flavors filled cut not prime rib as most people assert.  Steamed green bean drizzled in olive oil, with a touch of Garlic serves as the vegetable and exemplifies the mounds of mashed potatoes made with fresh butter. For wine there appears a bottle of Cabaret Sauvignon and the kids get a quarter glass-full for Christmas. 

Everyone thanks God with the meal prayer and father raises his glass upwards and toasts to us.

Manga he says.

The food disappears and everyone has seconds and Grandma who sits on the left of the Wracks puts another helping of beef on his plate and tells him to finish it.  The family gorges on the fine food and then sits back in their chairs with big smiles on their faces.  Desert appears in the form of pie and vanilla ice cream.  Two eight inch pies appear on the table, one blueberry the other cherry and they divide up and partition across the table.  Then a decanter of fresh brewed Columbian coffee from a percolator is on the table and everyone has a cup with some fresh milk.   The dinner draws to a close and Christmas is almost done.  The china spaces evenly in the dishwasher and the silver ware is washed by hand and dried and put back in its own case till next year.  The Wracks clears the table and does the dishes as he usually does for every holiday festivity.  Each piece is hand dried and put in its place until next year’s Thanksgiving.  The older Fonz disappears as is his trick every holiday but will re-appear to say good-bye to the guests.  Grandfather and Grandmother sit in the living room in the French chairs around the Christmas trees and talk to the parents.   The Wracks sits on the floor, plays with some toys and looks in wonder at the beauty and finality and immortality at the event as it occurs once a year. The lights glimmer and bounce off the tinsel on the tree onto the ornaments hand made over the decade.  After about an hour of talk and relaxation the Grandparents announce that they are leaving.  The Wracks fetches their thick woolen coats from the hall closet.  The front entry is lighted and the red brick steps lead to the white Ford Fairlane with the small block v-8 that will eventually become the party truck of the Fonz.  The air is cold in December and the stars scintillate brightly and seem to say that this is a day for the king of Kings.  The Wrackers wave goodbye to Louis and Theresa and the white car turns in a driveway and chugs off down the street of Bacon way. The family withdraws and enters the edifice and turns off the lights in the kitchen and living room and the Wracks sits in the living room next to the tree and wonders.  After a while he extinguishes the tree and goes to his bedroom.  His father is smoking before going to bed and his wife has just recently quit.  Christmas is done for another year.

This happened before the dark times, before the dog, before the emergency surgery and the jet plane ride home.  The great learning never happened until many years in the future.  Christmas is a time where believers salute the birth of the savior who gave up his life for mankind.  What this means is nebulous to most but the ritual and the rite give credence and meaning to this worldly existence. The Wracks wants to thank all those who ushered him through and enabled him to achieve his senior years. Christmas is for giving, for charity, for tolerance of others and belief that a better life awaits sometime in the future. Thanks to all humanity that helped and have a truly, bounteous and merry Christmas.

Thanksgiving is a time of joy in thanks of giving of sustenance to others.  As is every year the Wrackers would invite people to share their thanksgiving with them. Norma was a gourmet chef and in her youth wrote a thick cook book that all people use and believe in day to day in this varied life.  The epicurean bible, from Norma gave us countless delicious meals that the Wracks will cherish in his memory until the end. 

In latter November it is cold as December is the coldest month of the year.  The Dow is scheduled to arrive at five thirty and have a parking space reserved in front of the house as requested by Marvin.  They soon arrive in an Acura limousine.  Marvin gets out of the car and helps his wife from the passenger side and together they enter the domain of the Wrackers.  He wears a grey wool worsted business suit with black loafers and a grey tie.  Barbara, red hair and all from a long time ago era, in a formal evening dress and matching handbag ascend the brick steps with a single white light on the corner of the fence.

I love my new Acura says Barbara.

I wouldn’t buy a Mercedes Benz because they are German.

The Japanese make good cars.

The Wracker house is small, and the family room is the dining room and the living room is reserved for guests only.  The Dow move in and sit on fine French wood chairs with cushions given by Grandpa.  The shag carpet is white and green and the large window frames the room on the street.   Barbara has a glass of wine and Marvin has bourbon whiskey.  Vincent converses with Marvin and Barbara while Norma cooks in the Kitchen with the help of Wracks. The Wracks sets out the sterling silver cutlery which is used only on Thanksgiving and Christmas and was a present from Theresa on the wedding day. Each setting has two forks, two spoons and a single gleaming sterling knife.   The plates are fine china to be washed by hand after the meal and set away for another year.  The table with a leaf seats eight but can hold up to ten people in a sitting.

Marvin has a stern look on his face with fine black hair slicked back to a style.  He was an honor student at Bolt Hall law school in California but every time he takes the BAR the board flunks him.  He now ostentatiously publishes a European train schedule book for American travelers.  Barbara doesn’t work. She never did and never has to as are the people who populate the upper crust.  Auburn hair and freckles and light grey eyes as is the forefathers of the constitution of the United States of America. What a pair and the Wrackers have them for thanksgiving. 

Dinners ready says Norma, everyone sit down. 

Large dishes adorn the Pass through and are full of savory food.   Green beans steamed with garlic and seasoned with extra virgin olive oil.  Gravy made from boiled turkey neck and heart and onions for hours on end.  Extra-large sweet potatoes the size of a fist abound. Turkey stuffing made with butter and done in a pan sits on the side. Vincent carves the twenty pound turkey with an electric cutting knife plugged into the wall.  The guests get up and are first and serve themselves, loading their plates with mountains of savory food.  When everyone finishes service, they sit down and pass around a fresh bottle of white wine. 

Who is better than us says Father Wracker.  Manga!

As in the true thanksgiving tradition everyone gobbles down their food and Marvin is the first one up to the buffet to get seconds. When everyone finishes, Mother Wracker brings out two pies, a pumpkin and a blueberry pie that she obtained from Marie Calendar restaurants

It’s too much trouble to make two pies on Thanksgiving with all the food so I bought them says Norma.

The Wracks brings in the dishes and proceeds to put the china in the dishwasher with the sterling separately on quick wash so they don’t chip.  The Wracks starts the dishwasher and proceeds to scour the turkey pan with steel wool and soap in the sink as he does every thanksgiving.  Marvin and Barbara disappear into the living room with Vincent and he and Marvin open a bottle of grand Mariner cognac and drink down shots Russian style.  The men talk, the ladies chat and time boils away and finally Marvin announces it is time to take the thirty minute drive to their exclusive retreat in Malibu.  Norma has disposable Tupperware filled with turkey and dressing and green beans and Marvin eagerly takes the offerings and puts it in the back seat of his car. He loves taking home leftovers of Norma’s cooking. Both Marvin and Barbara wave goodbye and drive off down Bacon Lane.   Thanksgiving is officially over but the house smells of roast turkey and the Wracks clears the cognac glasses, empties the dishwasher, puts the china back into its special place and loads the dishwasher for a second load with glasses,  casserole dishes and assorted bric a brac.  Father sits in his chair.  He doesn’t smoke anymore, because he had an abdominal aneurysm repair.  Living the fast life and taking stimulants and smoking and not sleeping eventually degenerate even the sturdiest body.  He chose the life he pursues so it is time he pays for his digress in spades. Thanksgiving is over and Christmas is in a month with another dinner on tap and whatever guests invite themselves to the festivities. The Wracks is happy because many people don’t have thanksgiving dinners with themselves or their families and buy a turkey dinner from the market, savor it on their own and go out to a bar.  There is more to Thanksgiving then the meal.  It is a day to salute God and offer salutations for the goodness of the bounty he bestows upon his people.    The Wracks is glad to have a thanksgiving and a family and a place to stay in our great country the United States of America and he wishes the best to all people who believe in hope and charity.  The Wracks walks outside the front door and looks at the stars and they blink and shine upon him and he prays and wishes that someday he will have a home all his own and a family to share thanksgiving with.  Satisfied with his day he closes the front door and locks it,  turns out the lights in the kitchen and living room, lets the dog out of the laundry room then returns to the bedroom he used to share with his brother who now lives elsewhere and the day ends and Christmas season begins.   

As the season transits, and the air gets colder, sunlight ebbs and harvest begins, embarks the last day of October.  Here, up north it is quiet, as it usually is and the green house with the Japanese where nothing seems to happen, and is never decorated for any holiday stands immutable to the sands of time.  They never give out candy to the young children that migrate in this little enclave.  So may time endure?  The house on the other side with three previous owners has two pit bulls, that are never seen, that lives in a garage viciously, and barks at the slightest provocation or noise.  The house opposite to the left, painted white has an absent owner and tenants that are not seen or heard.  They cut down all the flowers and roses that surrounded their house with the last owner and don’t decorate either or give out candy to the young costumed children. They live next to the two older women who drive one SUV and never use the front door; they only exit via an electric garage door.  The tenants in front of this house decorate for Halloween and have two kids with long hair and an older daughter that looks exactly like their mother.  Of Latino ancestry, they live with their grandmother who only comes out to put out their trash cans each week on a Tuesday.  Aside from the pit bulls barking, this neighborhood is quiet, like the silence before the storm, not ringed with frolicking children or busy industrious young adults who come and go and make their living.

Living across the street and housebound by chance and health the neighborhood is too quiet to be real.  It is too quiet to be ascertained too quiet to be believed and too quiet to the observed.  Tonight is Halloween and we will count the children who come and will receive a candy bar.  There is plenty candy to go round and there is always the leftover to be enjoyed.  Tonight is Halloween on a Sunday.  The Covid epidemic is winding down and soon the holidays will start and be enjoyed and signal another year of life to be chalked up as a success to the living who has survived. 

Five severed latex heads sit on the ground illuminated by ultraviolet light.  Over on the side yard on the Japanese side inflatables balloon and wave around the clock: a cat, a witch, and a goblin.  Seven more hours to go on this all hallowed eve until the end of the year and thanksgiving harvest ensue. 

Early tomorrow morning all the inflatables and outside décor will be retrieved and laid to dry out to be stored presently.   No more decoration till December when we celebrate the birth of the Messiah.  Time goes on, the silence runs deeply and the night beckons its darkest splendor and the year runs out.  This and more in the life in the new millennium somewhere in California distantly.   Time to look forward to the black market adds that will inundate the media starting at twelve and one A.M. in the dark of the night all alone. 

There comes a time when a boy becomes a man.  It often does not occur in a bedroom, or in a van, or any special place.  A boy becomes a man when tossed into the elements, in the world, in a common place, in an extraordinary situation, all alone.  For a fifteen year old teenager, in high school, becoming a man meant riding big waves, radically, with commitment, for the entire world to see. For Wracks, his time comes now.

“Let’s go down to Diego, “says HP

“The surf is flat, I checked it myself,” says Cool

“There might be something coming in at staircase,” says HP

“Do you have smokes and brew,” asks Cool.

“We have smokes and brew, “promises HP, “I need company.”

“I have gas money,” says Wracks, “I’m in.”

“Get your gear and throw it in back,” orders HP.

Kool has a green Meth model shaped like a teardrop, and a green robe and a duffel bag filled with goodies and he tosses them all in the back hatchback of the yellow and white Volkswagen van.  Wraks has a purple and red second hand NatPro purchased for a song from Bee aye the seventh member of the room.  HP has a red pintail BK potato chip.  Wracks has drilled out the glassed in fin on his purple monster and installed a neon orange large fin of his own design.  The result yields a blatant diamond tail billboard meant to handle large surf.  He delicately places his board in the back of the van along with his blue druid robe and a sack of food liberated from his parents house.  The ride down to Diego bodes long and boring and Wracks falls asleep, like always on the bed in the back of the van as the tuned exhaust blare a blatant note of existence. 

Kool drinks a Budweiser sixteen ounce in a huge gulp, finds someone to throw the can at and heaves the crumpled mass at them on the freeway.  The can bounces off the windshield of a sedan, the sedan swerves and an angry driver displays the finger to Kool.  Kool displays the finger back and grabs a cigarette, then lights the Marlboro with a Bic butane lighter, smiles and draws a huge puff from the reefer. The who blares from a tape deck suspended from the metal dashboard of the van and time passes.  Smoke drifts in eddies out the side exit windows and the town of little happenings comes into view.  Looking down the cliff, the three surveys the beach break with rocky reefs interspersed amongst the long expanse of sand.  The waves break at two to three feet with a light wind blowing the soup into a delicate froth of soup.   

“Let’s go to seven eleven.”  Says HP “ I am hungry.”

“Yeah dah.” Screams cool,   “Hamburger, candy and a huge slurpee to go for me.”

The yellow white van growls into town and the first 7-11 looms in front of it.  HP pulls in, he and Kool exits the car and go inside the store.   They both return with brown bags and large slurpees in blue and red cherry.  Wracks eats his bread, a packet of Kraft cheese bits  and savors a can of red sugared coca cola. 

“We are going to Windiness, “   smiles HP

“The cashier inside the 7-11 says that a hard south swell currently focuses on Windiness and the surf should be larger there. “

“I have never been to Windiness,” says Wracks

“The break appears to be a deep water reef close to shore and the waves break right and left depending on the season and the swell direction.” “It is only fifteen minutes more, over the bridge, at the entrance to Diego Bay.  A colony of small house situates there and the person told me where we could park safely.”

Over the grey steel bridge and into the southern part of the niche, before Crown beach go the three surf riders with hopes, dreams and ambition.  In ambition, comes excellence and today the excellence tests under the envelope of big.  Windiness beach looks like a short beach strewn with rocks, typical of southern California beaches.  Windiness sets straight like a flat beach break except here, south of The Niche, the bottom of the ocean a hundred yards out dives deeper than one thousand feet.  For this reason, ocean swells attract to the reef and rear up suddenly out of the deep water and break hard with much mass and water coming over  with the breaking wave.  Wrack’s looks out the side window of the van and Windiness, today breaks at over fifteen feet in height.  A tall man in a white helmet and long surfboard enters a huge swell and turns his huge board and banks toward shore on the huge wall of water.  The wave at Windiness rears up as a huge triangular peak and breaks in both directions. On this day the lefts break better.  A slight offshore wind makes the surface conditions epic in nature and the waves carom to completion with spray dancing off the top of the breaking waves.

“I think the waves are too large for me,” whimpers Wracks

“We are parking and you are going out,” screams HP. “The conditions are epic and half of Diego watches on the beach.  If you start to drown, they will call a helicopter.”

“Twisted,” screams Kool and the crowd on the beach turn their heads for a second and look at him. Kool tears his clothes off like a man possessed and stark naked pulls on his wetsuit like a hotdog stuffing machine.  Today Windiness breaks like big Pipe and Kool rides goofy foot.  Both HP and Kool prepare with amazing speed and run toward the entry spot on the beach.  They both run to the water and cast themselves out like torpedoes steaming out of a submarine.  Wracks  remains stolid and slowly waxes his board and counts the set waves.  The sets are four in number with the second wave the largest and the sets periodically appear at twenty minute intervals.  Wracks’    decides to paddle out.  At windiness, a channel to the right of the reef sucks water out in a huge riptide when the waves break large and wracks enters the entry zone and the rip aids the paddle out into deep water and big waves.  Out in the middle of the ocean, an extraordinarily large set hits the reef and Wracks gets caught inside the area where the wave breaks and loses his surfboard, comes up after the set and finds him in the middle of nowhere in twenty foot plus waves.  He sees the older man in a helmet and asks him for help.  The older man says,

“Son, in big surf, you have to swim in.  If a rip pulls you out the only way in is to body surf the waves in.”  Wraks again asks him to help him in.   The man in the helmet repeats his command. “Body surf the waves in,”  “It is the only way. “

In large surf the ocean heaves in turbulence and without a wetsuit, most people soon drown.  Wracks  starts to back stroke his way into the beach.  The riptide hinders his exit.  A huge set hits the reef.  Wracks turns into freestyle stroke and scratches hard to enter the ten foot high wave.  The wave picks him up and Wracks hydroplanes down the face of the wave using his hands like fins  At the bottom of the wave, Wracks turns and points toward the open area and the wave overtakes him and pushes downward, deeply and the turbulence spins him around like an old rag doll.  When deep under water all watermen open up their eyes.  Watermen open up their eyes to see where the bubbles go.  Where the bubbles move signals the direction up.  Wracks swims in direction of the bubbles, breaks surface, and gulps down a huge amount of air.  A second wall of white   water hits his body and Wracks goes underneath again.  Watching the bubbles, he swims upward and breaks surface again.  The set of waves concludes and Wracks has been pushed inside towards the beach and exit from the breakers seems possible.  Within ten minutes, wracks scrambles up on the beach and looks for his board.  Some kind of observer rescues his board from the rocks and sets the purple explosion on a safe stretch of beach.  Wracks sits  on the beach and looks again at the breaking waves.

“It wasn’t so bad,” he thinks, I am going back out.”  

Wracks’ grabs the reins of his horse, gets back on and rides again.  Luckily, no huge close out clean up sets made him swim in again.  Both HP and Cool surf as the time of their lives on the left breaking waves, just like Pipeline.  Wracks surfs the rights which break slower and mushier but still huge in size.  Wracks’ gets three huge set waves presently, and successfully performs two rollercoaster reentries in double overhead plus surf.  Wracks notes that the bottom turns feel good with the large custom fin.   By three o’clock PM. HP waves from the beach and heads up to the car at a parking place that mysteriously appears out of nowhere for the three at this exclusive and fabulous colony community.  The three exhausted wave riders strip their wetsuits and dress slowly.  Then the three sit inside the car and devour whatever remains of food in the car at hand. 

“That was epic,”  says HP “Awesome radical lefts.”

“Tubular,” asserts Kool as he smiles largely and eats a two foot long beef stick.

“I got two really good ones,”  says Wracks  “I can’t go left yet.”

“I have to work tonight, “ says HP, “lets go.”

The white and yellow van roars to life as the megaphone exhaust shakes and belches mist out of the header.  The van rolls over the bridge, gets on the interstate five and the three head for home.  HP smokes cigarettes, drinks a coca cola and drives.  As usual Wracks falls asleep.  Kool chain smokes and drinks a Budweiser red sixteen ounce beer.  Wracks  wakes up at the refinery, and again at dismal canyon road, past the high school.  At the corner of Deadman’s lane, Bacon way and Saint Inez sits the Wracks house, with grandma, the dog, and a little bit of home.  Wracks and Cool pull their gear out of the van and Cool takes his board and duffel and disappears down the street towards Marco’s way.  Wraks rinses off his gear with cold water and enters his house.  The little dog wakes up, yelps and seems to smile.  No one resides within except for grandma who sits in her room and watches Lawrence Welk reruns.  She wave at wracks and smiles. 

“I will make dinner in fifteen minutes,”  says Wracks

Wracks finds some chicken with wine left over in the refrigerator, and puts the mass into the microwave oven.  The oven hums, the dog runs in his sleep on the cushion, the house darkens as light leaves the remains of the day, and night in tranquil hills begins.  Here nothing becomes of what it seems.  

Wracks never rode the waves at windiness ever again.  The drive remains too long especially for a person who does not own a car.  The secret of windiness remains.  When a huge storm turns off the coast of Antarctica, in the west, extreme south swells focus on south facing beaches on a north stretch of land.  A huge offshore canyon at windiness captures extreme south swells and Windiness can be twenty feet when everywhere else looks as flat as a lake.  Everywhere of course, except Jalama and the extremely well kept green custom houses last another day in a time when darkness and immensity threaten the world and the intrinsic fabric of mankind. If a wave rider surfs windiness, watch out for great white sharks as Simmons disappeared mysteriously there one day in big surf.  This is one of the magical surf breaks on the California coast.  Normally a winter break, in the summer if the south swell is right, it achieves immense size.  Wracks was there to surf it.  The other magical surf spots are Newport Point and Malibu on a big west swell.   When trestle is huge, Malibu is better.   They guard Newport Point with M16 rifles. 

With the AMA controlling medicine and telling physicians what to prescribe and what to do, everyone is forced to comply or go elsewhere.   If physicians don’t comply, they get their licenses revoked. The question remains, what tactics should the people employ to live a long life of high quality.  Is current allopathic medicine charlatanry that actually shortens the lifespan or impinges the quality of life in a negative fashion?  The factors that shorten a lifespan are the following:

Infections

Toxins

Cholesterol

Lifestyle.

The concept of infectious disease is self-explanatory.  Bacteria, viruses and parasites are the causal factors.   Strep infections of the lungs and staph infections of wounds seemingly are the mainstay of bacterial infections.  With appropriate hospitalization, penicillin’s and lots of money, most people survive these maladies.  Esoteric bacterial infections with fastidious species, with the advent of antibacterial treatment, are now curable.   A hundred years ago plague or Brucella or Salmonella would cause fatal disease but now with appropriate therapy people survive to achieve their genetic potential.  Viruses and most enteric infections transmit through fecal contaminated foodstuffs and hepatitis A, B, and dysentery are rarer today with the use of current food treatment and preservation.  However, most restaurants and fast food parlors do not wash their vegetables and now people are acquiring chronic parasitic infections not prevented by preservatives.  Untreated fruits and vegetables harbor snail eggs, worm eggs, and parasitic cysts that become motile worms once in the intestinal tract.   In women this is seen as midriff bulge and in men with chronic parasitic infections, pot bellies.  This all begins around age forty and accumulates and progresses with each decade. Preservation saves mankind from bacteria and viruses but at the same time fills the body of man with metal salts.

All metals if ingested accumulate in the body and cause chronic disease.  Examples of chronic disease are diabetes, hypertension, renal failure and arteriosclerosis.  All processed foods and restaurant faire contain metal salts.  Heavy metals like lead, and transition metals like iron when emulsified into processed food prevent bacterial growth.   These agents are known as preservatives.  How long has salad dressing lasted in your refrigerator without spoiling past the expiration date?  Three years or five years is not unusual for processed food to be palatable and edible.  Any metal when consumed accumulates in the arteriovenous tree causing arteriosclerosis, hypertension and stroke.  Organic toxins from flowers, mushrooms or reptiles are much harder to spot and an acute admission to the hospital necessitates high pressure liquid chromatography to elucidate the cause. 

The most insidious factor that curtails a long life is cholesterol.  Cholesterol is found in all meats but less so in fish.  Milk and eggs have significant amounts of cholesterol but not nearly the amount found in meat.  Cholesterol is a yellowish brown buttery, sticky substance that clogs up arteries causing heart attacks and venous embolus.   Cholesterol is necessary as a rigidity factor in the cell wall, like rebar in concrete to make the cell wall stiff.   The body produces just enough cholesterol to maintain itself.  Because of this fact, cholesterol recirculates in the blood from the gut in what is known as the enterohepatic circulation.  When a human eats cholesterol rich food like meat, the cholesterol recirculates in the lymph and blood until it is excreted in the stool or deposits in the muscular element of arterial circulation.  The main reason to ingest vegetable roughage is to bind the cholesterol, eliminate it and prevent its recirculation.  The high protein benefits of meat are overshadowed by the deleterious effects of cholesterol accumulation.   We all love out rib eye steaks but the solution to a long life is to eat less or no meat and lots of beans, oat meal and cheese for adequate protein nourishment.  Mexicans living on beans and tortillas all develop marasmus so it is necessary to eat meat, hopefully that will be fish.  This all depends on geography and religious preferences.

Lifestyle is the final topic of this dissertation.  It appears that an active lifestyle is conducive to longevity

Office workers and heavy meat eaters all die of cardiac disease, especially if they smoke or take drugs.  The epitome of a successful life is to exercise in the spare time from an occupation and meditations like yoga, Pilates, tai chi or aerobics are mandatory to maintain the euphony of the organism. 

Most people want to live a long time.  Chelation therapy removes metal from the body but is lengthy and very expensive.  Parasite de-worming is one of the most overlooked aspects of modern medicine because most people don’t want to examine the stool of others and a protuberant abdomen should suffice to acknowledge the infestation by enteric parasites.  Eating a vegetarian type of alimentation or at least limiting meat intake and resorting to fried chicken will add at least a decade of quality life to the existence. The ticket is to consult physicians proficient in these therapies.  Those that want to live forever consume gold thiol-malate or resort to Egyptian life extension practices or undeniably so become vampires.  I believe it is the quality of life that paramount’s existence. The rest is in God’s hands so take it for what it is worth. Most churches are open every day so believe and join those that embrace ethos over pathos and the word of the prophets where ever you are.