Wednesday, August 24, 2022

Time to talk Turkiye: Tourism & politics in the new Turkey

 

Time to talk Turkiye: Tourism & politics in the new Turkey

      It's been over two months now since I got back from Turkey (now officially called Turkiye, BTW) and I'm still trying to sort out all the stuff that I learned there.  Haven't quite finished digesting it all yet, but more and more insights are becoming clear.  So much to see in Turkey.  So much to do.  So much to learn.  And so much that is hidden there as well.

     Did you know that there are over 4,000 ancient Greek and Roman ruins in Turkiye?  And I must have walked through most of them.  My feet are still sore.  To the Romans, Turkey was more than just some miscellaneous conquered terrain.  It was considered another province of Rome just like California is considered another province of the United States (or just another province of the Evil Globalist Bastards if you wanna think about what Governor Newsom has been up to here in the past three years). 

     Emperor Hadrian toured Turkiye often.  He especially liked Ephesus and Perge -- but who could blame him.  Ephesus was huge back then, with a population about the size of Pittsburgh or Cincinnati.  Miles of that ancient city are still preserved, including an amphitheater that holds 24,000 people.  You really gotta go there.  St. Paul wasn't its only tourist.

      Then of course there's Istanbul.  Lively and lovely.  Glorious mosques.  Delicious food.  Panoramic views.  No other city like it in the world except perhaps San Francisco or Hong Kong.  Topkapi Palace?  What can I say.  Those Muslim sultans really knew how to live!  Even Prince Bad-Boy bin Salman would be jealous.  I was jealous too -- except for the extensive harem jailhouse of course.  They woulda locked me up there and thrown away the key.

      Next came Cappadocia and the Turquoise Coast.  Touristic heaven!  I swam in both the Mediterranean and the Aegean, had dinner in a restaurant carved out of a cave and got my feet wet in Cleopatra's Bath.

     What I didn't see in Turkiye was the political side of stuff.  Sure, most Turks think President Estrogen, er, Erdoğan is a pretentious jerk with delusions of grandeur -- but that's to be expected.  After all, he is one.

     But then there is the darker side of politics in Turkey that no one wants to talk about.  For instance, how Erdoğan secretly funded and supported ISIS.  Serena Shim, one journalist to write about that connection, was dead two days after her article appeared.  D.E.A.D.  Not just "passed away".  Other journalists to mysteriously die in Istambul?  Jamal Khashoggi, of course, and also the legendary Andre Vltchek.

      And Turkey did even more underhanded stuff in Syria, such as stealing its oil, stealing its factories (literally) and spreading untrue gossip about war atrocities such as barrel bombs and gas attacks that were actually committed by ISIS and the so-called Moderate Rebels and White Helmets -- not by Syrians.

       Compared to Tayyip Erdoğan, Basar Assad is a freaking saint.

     And even now, according to the Syria Support Movement, "There is much misinformation and deceit about the Bab al Hawa border crossing into Idlib province, Syria.  First, Western media rarely mention that after the aid crosses the border from Turkey, it is effectively controlled by Syria’s version of Al Qaeda, Hayat Tahrir al Sham (HTS).  Second, they fail to explain that HTS hoards much of the aid for its fighters.  Third, HTS makes millions of dollars by taxing the aid that it distributes to the rest of the population under its control." 

     And at the Istanbul airport on the way home, I ran into several muscle-shirt-wearing Ukra$nian mercenaries who'd been hanging out in Turkey for R and R -- and perhaps for a bit of weapons training as well.  After all, Turkiye is the most weaponized nation in Europe.  America has poked the Russian bear, yes, but then NATO ran away and let Turkey's European allies suffer the economic consequences when the Russian Bear struck back. 

      Erdoğan may be a corrupt bastard but he is certainly no dummy.  He knows where his next paycheck is coming from -- the same place that Zelensky, Newsom, Biden, NATO, Trudeau, Trump, the United Nations, Obama, Bush, Fasci, Johnson and Macron get theirs.  The Federal Reserve apparently has a counterfeiting operation set up in Davos.

      And I also found out that both Turkey and Saudi Arabia are currently trying to hedge their bets by asking to join BRICS.  Both Estrogen and Prince Bad-Boy can clearly see the writing on the wall -- that NATO, the Pentagon and their allies no longer rule our planetary playground and that the American dollar no longer rules the world either.  The ruble and yuan are the new kids on the block -- and Turkey and the Saudis are clearly trying to jump ship.

     Oops, Erdoğan's latest dirty secrets are out now.  My bad.

      But I don't want to think about stuff like Turkiye's support for ISIS or how it is happily fanning the flames of war in Europe.  I just want to remember watching all those exquisite Whirling Dervishes and witnessing that beautiful wedding ceremony inside an ancient cave-cathedral in Cappadocia.  Like so many other Americans, I just wanna live in denial.

Resources:

NATO, Syria and Russia.  Who ya gonna call?  "NATO ready to attack a nuclear plant to ethnically cleanse Russians from Ukraine -- George Eliason"  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_0yXg1RfvE&t=4264s


Massive miscarriage rates found among vaccinated pregnant women:  https://pierrekory.substack.com/p/massive-miscarriage-rates-among-vaccinated
 
 
Greg Mannarino has yet another delightful meltdown about America being the most debt-riddled nation in history:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8mSIjEXHhM
 
"The response to the COVID-19 [panic] represented the triumph of a pseudo-scientific biosecurity agenda that emerged in 2005 and has been pushed ever since by a well-organised, well-funded and well-embedded network of ideologues."  https://dailysceptic.org/2022/08/22/where-lockdowns-and-fast-tracked-vaccines-came-from/
 

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       Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.  And while you're at it, please buy my books https://tinyurl.com/StillwaterBooks

Sunday, August 21, 2022

One way to redirect the average Israeli's wrath at Pfizer...

 

 

One way to redirect the average Israeli's wrath at Pfizer...

     After having been shot up and boostered a whole bunch of times, so many Israelis are currently dying from The Jab and/or coming down with COV$D again and again (and again) that the Zionists needed to do something to redirect the Israelis' wrath at the government that sold them down the river for (a lot more than) 30 shekels.  The Zionists' answer?  "Mow the lawn again."  Bomb Gaza again.

     Gaza?  That open-air prison?  The Evil Globalist Bastards' role model for what America will look like in ten years?  "You will own nothing and you will be [very un]happy."

Resources:

Ilana Rachel Daniel speaks out in Israel about the corruption around the Pfizer sell-out:  https://www.bitchute.com/video/6qOAHiFabFQk/

Exactly what more proof do you need?  https://kunstler.com/clusterfuck-nation/the-meaning-of-incredible/?utm_source=mailpoet&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=newsletter-post-title_2

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Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you're at it, please buy my books.  https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Stillwater/e/B00IW6O1RM

 

Sunday, August 14, 2022

Local haunts: Visiting haunted hotels closer to home during the COV$D panic of 2020

Editor's note:  Here is the next chapter of my book about traveling throughout the United States during the COV$D years.  My working title right now is "A Tale of 22 Cities: Traveling Across America during the Great Lock-Down".  BTW, it is now Day 882 of said lock-down, the biggest waste of time and money in human history.

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Local haunts: Visiting haunted hotels closer to home during the COV$D panic of 2020

     Having finally gotten bored with paying extravagant airfares and enduring snack-less flights with no movies or food service, I started hanging out in local haunted hotels and taking stay-cations instead.

The Rose Garden Inn

May 11, 2020:  First there was my adventure at the Rose Garden Inn up near U.C. Berkeley.  Another lovely Victorian-era hotel with cheap mid-plandemic rates.  Went for a walk in the rain up to the Cal campus.  So much history there too.  Came back to the hotel and struck up a brief conversation with a handsome young man staying in a room down the hall.  Neither of us was too keen on wearing face masks and we had a lot of other stuff in common. 

      Later that afternoon we went out into the hotel's actual rose garden and talked for an hour.  But then.  Damned if he didn’t start getting all romantic.  Say what?  “I’m old enough to be your grandmother!”  That was certainly a haunting moment.  Couldn’t believe that I was turning this handsome hunk down.  Went out and walked around in the rain again until either he or I cooled off.

The Claremont Hotel

 August 14, 2020:  After my latest trip across America, I was all burnt out and having many strange dreams including one about a gigantic tsunami wave among other things.  Perhaps I got COV$D on that last trip?  Or had my brain been invaded by interplanetary beings?  In any case I feel much better now.  Why?  Because I’m on a stay-cation at the fabulous Claremont Hotel!  That’s why.  Good idea.  Spent the last of my stimulus check on it.  Money well spent.  The rambling old hotel, up in the hills above Berkeley, is all Victorian and lovely.  It’s reputed to be haunted but I haven't seen any ghosts so far.  However, they did offer an irresistible mid-plandemic rate on my room.

     Went to a nearby restaurant, Rick & Ann’s, for their take-out gluten-free pizza.  Stuffed my face.  Wallowed in luxury for one night.  Enjoyed the view.  Bathed in a gi-normous oval bathtub in a gigantic marble bath suite.

     Luxury.

     I deserve it.

     I’m going to die soon enough.  Might as well enjoy the time I have left -– get rewarded for all my good deeds.  Curl up in bed with a good book.  The hotel is only one-third full.  The ghosts are being quiet.  The bed is super-soft.  The sheets are clean.  I should sleep well.

August 15, 2020:  No sleep for me –- at least not until 4:00 am last night.  “My work here is done.”  No more ghosts for me.  No more pizza.  Not even gluten-free pizza from Rick & Ann’s.  This stay-cation is over.  Time to go home.  No!  Wait!  How about just one more bath in that fabulous bathtub!

     Dream report:  I took one of my grandchildren back to my home.  She was totally indifferent.  “But you used to love these toys,” I cried.  Moral?  I guess that one can dream at the Claremont Hotel too.  “A cat can dare to look at a king.” 

The Queen Anne Hotel

 September 9, 2020:  I was walking down the sidewalk next to the Berkeley Bowl -– until suddenly I wasn’t.  Splat!  One banged up knee, one cracked rib, one sprained ankle and one broken arm later, I found myself magically transported to Urgent Care.  The magic was that I could still walk!

     Broken arm.  Hurts like hell.  Gigantic splint.  I hate it.

September 10, 2020:  Up all night with the pain.  Can’t get an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon until Monday.  Horrors.  Stuck with this gi-normous ugly splint from Urgent Care.  Then I get an idea about how to cheer myself up.  I’ll go off and hunker down in some haunted hotel!  Port Costa has a haunted hotel that used to be a bordello….

     No, wait.  San Francisco has a haunted hotel with a benevolent ghost.  “Our ghost comes and tucks you in at night!” sez the brochure.  That’s just what I need!  A motherly ghost.

September 15, 2020:  My bone doctor and I got into a huge argument about COV$D.  I still can’t believe that after six months on lock-down, people still believe the hype.  But the good news is that he said that I didn’t need a cast, only a sling for two weeks –- so I forgave him for lacking hardly any knowledge at all about viruses.  He’s a bone doctor not an expert on lock-downs and masks.

     And now here I am, at the famous Queen Anne hotel, tucking my own self into bed and waiting for the ghost to bring me milk and cookies.  This place is fabulously amazing -– more like a Victoriana museum than a hotel.  I feel like I’m living in the middle of the Dickens Fair!  Love it.

     Got here around 6:30 pm.  So haven’t time to explore but tomorrow I’ll take my EMF ghost-busting meter and explore.  Am so looking forward to it.  And regarding my recent fall?  I couldn’t figure out why I fell.  But somebody just pointed out to me that it might have been a hitchhiking ghost from a previous hotel that tripped me.  LOL?  Or not.  I bet it was that ghost from the Biltmore.  The Black Dahlia?

     Tomorrow they are going to serve me breakfast.  And then I’m going to go shopping at The Gap.  Wearing that long blue burka that I got in Afghanistan.  That will teach Mayor Breed to not mask us up and lock us down.

September 16, 2020:  Actually, this is a very comforting place to sleep.  I may just spend the entire day in bed.  Maybe.  And boy did I dream.  Dream #1 involved battles for the land.  First the Indians owned it –- California Indians.  Then the Spanish came and took it over by force.  Then the Spanish got all upset and pissed off when American colonials arrived and tried to grab the land from the Spanish.  There were lots of trees.  I watched all this happen.

      Dream #2 involved a bunch of parents and teachers who all sat in a big circle.  Then the parents, two at a time, got to sit in the middle of the circle and get all their problems solved.  I didn’t get to sit in the middle of the circle.  No problem-solving for me.  I was bitter, resentful and pissed off.

     Now I have 15 minutes to get up, get dressed and go off to breakfast before they close it down.  Ready, set, go!  And, yes, the waffles were delicious.

      What happens next?  Two hours of computerized free-cell solitaire.  Convalescence.  I came to San Francisco to convalesce.  Where’s the fun in that?  But by 2:00 pm I’d had enough R&R.  Time to play tourist on the #38R bus.

     OMG, they’ve closed The Gap on Powell Street.  So much for shopping for jeans.  Sigh.  Gap jeans actually fit me.  Crap.  I was about to splurge Big Time.  First retail shopping I’ve done in years -– and they close the freaking store?

     But walking that mile down Market Street was nice too.  In my burka.  They want me to wear a face mask?  I’m upping the ante.  But then I got kicked out of the Seven-Eleven for not wearing a mask!  Sheesh.

     Ferry building.  Reading a book by the water.  Walking up Market Street.  My usual tourist stuff.  But let’s try something new.  The Fillmore District!  Gentrification gone cray-cray.  The old Fillmore Auditorium, where I saw Janis Joplin back in 1965, is now closed.  Gone are all those jazz clubs that Maya Angelou wrote about.  Now we gots only upscale stuff.  One mural there said it all.  “Work –> sleep -> pay rent -> work -> sleep -> pay rent.”

     Despite all this depressing urban removal, I did order a wonderful smoked salmon salad and a nice glass of wine at some gentrified restaurant with quarantined tables in the street.  Definitely not your grandmother’s Fillmore District any more.

     Went back to the Queen Anne and spent ten minutes trying to not break my neck or drown while attempting to get out of the bathtub.  I hate this broken arm.  How humiliating it would be if I had to spend the night in a bathtub waiting for housekeeping to pull me out.  Naked.

     Watched TV.  Played more free-cell.  Watched more TV.  At least I got some tourist stuff done before lapsing back into hibernation.  Now let’s see what kind of tourism I can do in my dreams.  Happy stay-cation.  I think.

September 17, 2020:  What a horrible night I just had.  My arm hurt dreadfully.  My cracked rib and both knees did too.  And my brain hurt most of all.  Errant thoughts kept jamming it up.  “What, exactly, do I intend to accomplish during this lifetime,” was the major theme of my thoughts.  Do I really truly think that I am actually going to do any good in this world?  And if so, how can I do it more efficiently so that I don’t take such a heavy toll on my body and mind?  Plus my body is a hot mess right now.  Truly a hot mess.  How am I going to get to Nashville next month when I can barely hobble from my bed to the bathroom right now?

     Dream report:  Construction on my apartment in Berkeley revealed a dirt-floored cellar that had the iron skeletal remains of old folding chairs and wheelbarrows.

     This morning I need to poke around and explore the Queen Anne some more.  “It’s a four-star hotel,” says the brochure.  Not any more.  Now it’s just another victim of COV$D restrictions.  How very sad.

     I hate this lock-down.  It has managed to do what 9-11 and all those trumped-up “wars" on Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya and Syria couldn’t quite accomplish -– break the spine of the American economy.

September 18, 2020:  My arm hurts.  My knees hurt.  I’m depressed.  This stay-cation just didn’t do what I thought it would do.  Sure, I had a good adventure touring lovely San Francisco -– but I did not come back home refreshed.  Perhaps I need to start spending money on making my home more livable instead of dropping inconvenient bundles of cash on searching elsewhere for the Bluebird of Happiness.

     Damn, I hate being tired, angry, bored, depressed and in pain.  What would Johnny Cash do?  Go to Nashville!

The Doubletree

 November 25, 2020:  After I got back from Nashville, what happened next?  Spent Thanksgiving night at the Doubletree Hotel down on the Berkeley waterfront.  Can’t really say if there were any ghosts involved but I did watch a lot of cable TV and one of the plots on the Hallmark channel involved a ghost coming back from the dead on Christmas.

The Sens Hotel

February 11, 2021:  My next haunted stay-cation trip took me all the way over to North Berkeley.  The Gourmet Ghetto!  I wanted to treat my daughter Tanya to a special birthday event but Chez Panisse had sunk so low as to only offer take-away dinners in cardboard boxes so I jazzed things up a bit and rented a room at the Sens Hotel across the street from the restaurant.  We’ll pick up our take-out and eat it here.  Brilliant.  Even brought my own candlelight.

     My room has a French theme.  French provincial.  The Hallmark channel.  I’m loving it.  Oops.  Now I’m hungry.  Really hungry.  45 minutes until I meet Tanya.  How could I not have packed any snacks!  But then Tanya arrived, the food arrived and boy did we have fun.

     Tanya brought wine glasses, a table cloth, place mats, napkin rings and flowers.  I brought wine and candlesticks.  We sat out on the balcony overlooking a Safeway parking lot, eating a top-of-the-line gourmet four-course gourmet feast.  Happy birthday Tanya!

     First we laughed.  Then we laughed some more.  And ate smoked rock cod, spit-roasted pork loin, garlic-potato puree and vanilla pannacotta with blood orange gelee.  Then Tanya produced a tres leches birthday cake just in case.  “We’re living high on the hog tonight,” as my mother used to say.

February 12, 2021:  It’s now 4:55 am and I am totally wide awake.  The Hallmark channel has even gone off-air.  Tanya went home seven hours ago.  I watched cable news for a while.  One would think that if anything would put you to sleep, cable news would do it.  But no.  Doomed.  I’m doomed.  The queen of insomnia.  Perhaps this hotel is haunted too?  Oh well.  It was still worth it.  In terms of this current plandemic, an evening filled with laughter is priceless.

7:01 am:  Still reading books, pacing the floor, eating leftover tres leches cake and channel-surfing cable TV.  I’ve totally given up on sleep.

8:01 am:  I finally slept!  Big whoop-de-doo.  And I can tell that I slept because I got woken up by a nightmare.  Yuck.  There was this guy.  No idea who he was.  Would describe him to the police as in his 50s, about 5’10”, White, overweight, curly hair.  He stole my laptop, the bastard!  I grabbed his backpack.  He grabbed me.  Held me in a death grip!  “Help!  Help!  Help me!” I cried -– and then woke up.  Perhaps this creep was a ghost too?

     So much for sleeping.  Back to the Hallmark channel.  Checked out of the Sens and took the #18 bus back home.  So much for local haunts.  Where can I fly to next?

Resources:

Speaking of ghosts, here's what a British funeral director has to say about The Jab:  https://www.bitchute.com/video/an97Se5w7MwM/

Long-time peace activist Bruce Gagnon sets us straight about the propaganda ghosts haunting nuclear power plants in Ukra$ne:  https://peaceandplanetnews.org/crisis-at-the-russia-ukraine-border/   

It's getting harder and harder to believe all this war propaganda that haunts us constantly regarding NATO's latest golden boy -- that corrupt oligarch Zelensky:
  https://covertactionmagazine.com/2022/08/13/war-propaganda-about-ukraine-starting-to-wear-thin/

Scott Ritter once again tells us what is really going on during NATO's dangerous haunting of Eastern Europe -- highly important stuff:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lwIvEoKZTw
 

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Stop Wall Street, War Street, Big Pharma and Big Tech from destroying our world.   And while you're at it, please buy my books.  https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Stillwater/e/B00IW6O1RM