Fame don’t mean beans to me. Neither does money. (What good are fame and money going to do for me when I am dead?)
I define myself as “a humble little worker bee” for God… the little piece of God in “all of us”. God Nature, as my father used to say.
Don’t thank me for any of this.
Thank God. Thank my son Willy. Thank my son Maxwell too.
Thank all of the authors of accurate Alternative Medical Books.
Thank Helen, my best friend after Jimmy died. (He was my best friend before her.)
Thank all of the people that helped me in one way or another over the years, both family and friends.
And give A Very Special Thank You to my father and mother Arthur and Marion Darman.
Incidentally, Pinochle between the three of us was “an almost weekly event”. Over the years (and there were many of them), we played Pinochle for hundreds of hours against each other, my mother, my father, and I. All three of us were geniuses in multiple, albeit different, ways. By their admission… I was the best single deck pinochle player of the bunch, even regularly besting my mother, who was a Life Master at bridge, and one of the best bridge players in the country.
Marion, your deep love for me saved me countless times in my life from age eleven (my bipolar onset) onward. I think of you every single day.
Said tongue in cheek to my father while my mother listens in between Pinochle hands (she is the dealer)…
Art, I BLAME YOU! for this jam I have got myself in. It is all your fault! lmao (laughing my ass off)
My father was A Very Special Man. Just ask anyone that really knew him. We will all say the same kind of things about him.
Art, I blame you (lol) because you drilled three things into me time, and time, and time again… both when I was a child and a young man.
One was “Doctors spoon feed out knowledge a little at a time, and withhold the rest. They are NOT to be trusted at all.”
“Think. You have a Good Brain. Your Good Brain Will Pull You Out Of Any Jam You May Get Yourself Into… If You Use It Wisely.”
And the last was…
“Money is nothing! It is only paper! A pile of money is only a pile of paper! Money is only a means to an end. It is worthless in and of itself.”
Art, on all counts you were right “in spades”.
How ironic! These three seeds of Truth my father taught me beginning in the sixties, during conversations around a round maple dining room table that my father himself had designed, toppled Big Pharma decades later.
The World owes a Very Special Thank you to my father Arthur Patrick Darman for sure.
I look forward to seeing Art and Marion in heaven when the time comes. We are going to play some Pinochle again! Hoorah!
I can’t wait to to tell them the story titled “They Messed With The Wrong Guy”… lmao while I tell it.
It’s a story about the Stupidity of Big Pharma!
We are going to Die Laughing! my mother,my father, and I. Some of us might wet our pants… lol… or need to go the the bathroom in a real hurry! This story is So Funny! It’s an Absolute Scream!
My dearly beloved father Arthur died in 1996. He will forever reside in my heart.
My dearly beloved mother passed away in 2005. She will forever reside in my heart too.
***Note [this note was written on the Publishing Date of (3-30-2011) Reflected in the Title Or It Was Written on the Day After this of the 31st]: This blog is still unfinished. It needs multiple corrections, and quite a bit of editing/improvement. This blog is perhaps a few hours away “writing-time-wise” from it’s completion. And I do not know exactly when I am going to be able to get to this (perhaps in a few days). These words will be removed when this blog is done. Allen***
I am “this close” (holding up my thumb and finger close together) to burying the pharmaceutical drug industry with the Truth.
Big Pharma only has a few more days to grab me before a decent completed version of the blog titled “Will The American Public Win The Race Against Big Pharma?”… one with a carefully written…
View original post 2,396 more words