As we live we accumulate memories … just last night I recounted to a grandson how, in falling out of a mostly-beached raft on a river, I accidentally hooked my foot inside his tee shirt. I fell backward into the water while he was launched backwards on the other side of the raft. I felt terrible. He does not remember the event, so we agreed, no harm, no foul.
I have, like all of us, an accumulation of moments that have stayed with me over time. For the vast majority of my time here, I have no recall. I remember standing in a circle of neighborhood boys and on suggestion of one of the bolder ones, we all whipped out our dicks for comparison. Boys are like that. How did I compare? I ain’t telling, and that’s my final word. Take that any way you like, hee hee hee.
So I was young, maybe ten years of age, and I, two of my brothers and our mother went on a thousand-mile journey to visit relatives in Milwaukee from Billings, Montana. While there, a guy who was in medical school in Chicago came to join us for the return trip. He was, I now see in the mirror, high on speed. He did most of the driving, never tiring.
On another occasion, my brother, who was studying for the priesthood, spoke (out of school, I later realized) about a peculiar Catholic program called “The Search.” I participated in this exercise after high school. In it a group of tender-aged kids gather for a weekend in a place where there are no cots or bedding, and go from room to room, gathering and interacting. For most of it we are counseled in Catholic doctrines, and for part of the exercise a priest comes along and we all confess our sins.
I spent most of my time with Ron, and the two of us mostly had the giggles. Ron is still around, and is a delightful man. He made a career in banking, one of two I have met over the years who occupy slots in that profession based mostly on personality.
That got me through that weekend, where we emerged from our sessions in sleep-deprived states to be greeted by former participants in a large and happy gathering that involved hugging and acceptance. It was a very good feeling, which for me did not last.
My brother candidly assessed the program that day, which he had occasionally supervised. He said the objective was sleep deprivation. In that state, he said, kids will believe anything they are told. It was a brainwashing exercise, though he did not use that word. I think he thought good intentions justified subtle manipulation. Catholics, after all, are taught to be a flock, and are taught to be proud to be thought of as sheep.
My brother entered the priesthood and had a successful career, and I never heard him mention the Search program again. To be clear, however, I rarely heard him speak. Even as I went through a Search, the effects did not linger in a positive manner. I grew to resent the intrusion into my brain, as they were not trying to save so much as control me. Much is made of priestly abuse of kids, most of it overblown (for its own purpose). This particular intrusion, which still goes on, is exempt from criticism.
My brother died in 2011, and I was counseled in my grief by Father John Dimpke, still alive I think, and probably retired. We spoke at length, as two of my brothers died within a month. As you might imagine, I have an active mind, and had long before rejected Catholicism. I was never rude, as John is a nice man, but I took to heart his assessment: “The problem with you, Mark, is that you think too much.”
That’s how they view us. That was the whole point of our Catholic educations, to prevent thinking, and in that sense, it makes sense. And to bring this post around to complete a circle, the guy who was high as a kite and who drove us from Wisconsin to Montana without sleep was in medical school, and was undergoing brainwashing. People imagine that doctors in training have to ingest huge quantities of material, and indeed they do. They don’t use most of that knowledge, as time relegates it to past practices supplanted by more modern ones.
But that was never the point. They were selected for medical training because they were bright, and were then brainwashed by means of sleep deprivation. If you wonder why doctors 1) think they are gods, and 2) believe in nonsense, it is because they were inoculated with both attitudes while in training. Training involves hours of study and lack of sleep. As a result you will not meet a doctor who does not profess the religion of viruses and bacteria as disease-causing agents because part of their rigorous indoctrination is rote memorization of the various types of bugs. The remedies for nonexistent viruses and harmless bacteria is, of course, a regimen of petroleum-based drugs. These remedies all have many effects, some of which are classified as “side”. Most of those effects are benign, some beneficial, and many harmful.
I have known so many people who in their senior years, if they make it that far, take a wide range of drugs, many prescribed to counteract the effects of others. Doctors are not trained in health care, but rather drug management. It’s all they know. It’s how they were educated, excuse me, I mean … brainwashed.That’s why med school is a factory based on lack of sleep as a control mechanism. It works with religion. Why not medicine too?
Piece of Mindful 
I had never considered that – explains much.
Speaking of Doctors, I had a friendly one on Monday beg forgiveness and then asked his phone for the standard duration of a Campylobacter infection. We then briefly discussed the potential source data of the response. Who knows.
He was very trusting; I am not.
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Over on NakedCapitalism, their contributor IM Doc tells horror stories about the problems he’s having from being required to use AI to write up patient notes.. full of errors and total fiction, if he can be believed.
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Interesting about the medical profession and I agree.
I recently asked AI if Frankenstein the book was about medical malpractise. It confirmed my perception although I have never read the book.
I pushed it a bit more and asked if really was the first book about the transhumanist agenda, turning people into Gods……you can well imagine the answer.
I enjoy your writing, although I rarely comment.
Best
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I thought you were going to say “People imagine that doctors in training have to ingest huge quantities of material, and indeed they do.. namely, speed, amphetamines, and various other petrochemicals!”
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Off topic, but maybe of interest – John C. Dyvorak threw out a little numerology tidbit on last Sundays show. Right off the top they were talking about the “NFL shooter,” and conspiracy theories (I guess from the alt right sphere?) that it was really a targeted hit on some Blackrock (or Blackstone I forget) executive, with the NFL thing as a cover.. I’m not sure, but anyway the shooter took the elevator to the 33rd floor. Dyvorak says “33 is the number you’d throw in there to tell everybody, ‘don’t worry folks, we know what we’re doing here.'” So.. by “everybody,” I guess he means everybody who got the memo about what all these numbers mean?? Lol
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Care to expand for those of us who don’t watch or read Dyvorak? I have no idea what you’re talking about. NFL shooter?
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A shooting in downtown NYC said to be over football head injuries, but a Blackstone exec was killed – so I guess Dyvorak thinks maybe they wanted to avoid another Luigi icon, and make it about something else. From ESPN –
“The weekend before the shooting, authorities have said, Tamura drove from Las Vegas to New York, arriving on Monday. He double-parked a BMW outside 345 Park Avenue and, around 6:30 p.m. ET, walked across the building’s entry plaza with an assault-style rifle. It was just past peak rush hour in one of the busiest areas of America’s largest city.
Once in the lobby of the 44-story skyscraper, Tamura shot Didarul Islam — the off-duty police officer — and a woman fleeing for cover. He shot a second security guard and another man in the lobby before taking the elevator. Investigators said they believed he was trying to reach the NFL offices, but he arrived on the 33rd floor, where he shot a woman before shooting himself in the chest with the rifle.
The investment firm Blackstone confirmed that one of its employees, real estate executive Wesley LePatner, was among those killed. Julia Hyman, who worked as an associate at Rudin Management, and security officer Aland Etienne also were killed, according to the City of New York Office of Chief Medical Examiner.
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I just thought it was interesting that Dyvorak gave a specific meaning to the number 33. And implied that some people would be worried if they didn’t get that marker.
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I remember that now. Also, the numbers 63 and 44 appear, along with 33. I’ve always thought these numbers were just signals to insiders. Back before the Internet they also used Catcher in the Rye as such a signal.
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Obvious a fake event, but bringing in the number 33 again. As if the number 33 is being put there on purpose as a info marker but anyone on the inside wouldn’t need a number to realize an event was fake. Entire illuminati topics has recently been made into a popular culture icon. Take Taco Bell’s commericials, and the well known musical artists that constantly use it as their identity schtick. Seems like the public is also made to become aware of the number 33 since it is used way too much now and only selectively before. Why use it at all…as some sort of entertainment for truther/commoners to see the 33 and say oh I know It’s a fake event, and feel good about their insider knowledge. Perhaps gets them to play along. AndiIs the number 33 also used a mocking of Jesus?
The life of Jesus was undocumented from ages 12-30? Yet before and afterwards to age 33. Can anyone post the verse where it states those numbers?
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Mark, i re-read your post. The sleep deprivation while young made me remember fraternity initiation, called hell week, in college. As I have said before, the college fraternities are clearly based on Masonic traditions, if not directly part of the broad umbrella of Masonic organizations.
Hell week to me was frankly a lot of fun – and very memorable. There’s something about sleep deprivation that makes me (at least) remember an event very clearly. Like multi-day hikes, or other stressful events, where I got no sleep, are burned into my memory.
I remember I snuck home to the house myself and college roommates were renting to nap during hell week during the day, and staying up all night for 3-4 nights. Worst part was they made an awful mix tape, with a few songs from Billy Joel, who I hate to this day, that they played at full volume in the attic space they crammed us in for 4 hours between 1-5AM.
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