Tag: M.A.i.D.

The end of the coverage

Well, it’s official, I’ve lost the media support that I’ve had for this matter.

Unfortunately David Pugliese appears to be the victim of a concerted smear campaign. And he’s gonna be swamped for the unforeseeable future.

I’m going to let Chat take the driver’s seat for a bit here:

🚨 Nature of Threats and Harassment

1. Death Threats

Following accusations in late October 2024 by former Conservative cabinet minister Chris Alexander that he had ties to the KGB, David Pugliese reported receiving death threats directed both at him and his family Yahoo News Canada+12CityNews Halifax+12theprogressreport.ca+12.

2. Deportation Scaremongering

Individuals have told his family members that they should leave the country or be deported — even though Pugliese and his relatives are Canadian citizens classic107.com.

3. Anonymized Attacks on Reputation

He has also endured anonymous attacks on his character, slurs implying disloyalty, and repeated questioning of his integrity in social and political commentary LinkedIn+8The Maple+8readtheorchard.org+8.

Needless to say that David id going to be pre-occupied for the next little while.

For the last couple of years David’s been promising to sit down with me, but things always keep coming up and nothing seems to ever gel. But David has written articles about me in the past, specifically my struggles with DND and the CAF to get my hands on captain McRae’s court martial transcripts as well as the Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit paperwork related to the investigation of captain McRae for committing “acts of homosexuality with young boys on the base”.

I told David that unfortunately my anxiety levels and my depression levels get hammered when dates come and go, so I suggested that we hold off on any type of interviews or communications until March of 2027 as that will hopefully be the beginning of the closing chapter of my life.

It would be nice to sit down at that point in time and see what my perspective is at that point in time.

I had contact with various other news agencies, media outlets, and reporters and none could have shown any concern in the slightest.

You would think that a child sexual abuse scandal on a Canadian Forces Base that involved over 25 children who were sexually abused by an officer of the Canadian Armed Forces and his teenage accomplice would have garnered some interest in the media.

Nope.

Not a single bit of interest at all.

Sure, you’ll get the some media outlets claiming that “we ran the press release from the lawyers, what more do you want?”.

Well, it’d be nice to talk about the number of bases we had in Canada back then. That Angus Alexander McRae wasn’t the only kiddie diddling catholic priest that had been given an officer’s commission by the Canadian Forces and allowed free access to children living on restricted defence establishments.

It would be nice to talk about the lack of care or protection that children had on the bases. Or how dysfunctional households were ignored or simply transferred to other bases to get rid of the problems. Or how the CAF and the DND have always viewed military dependents living on the bases as “being their at their own risk”.

It would be nice to talk about how the incompetent military police and CFSIU that couldn’t protect women in the military from sexual assault was just as worthless at protecting the children whom lived on the bases in Canada.

It would be nice to talk about how flaws in the pre-1998 National Defence Act have allowed the Canadian Armed Forces to pretend that child sexual abuse never occurred on the bases prior to 1998 and that children were never sexually abused by members of the Canadian Armed Forces on defence establishments.

The CBC didn’t care.

The Passionate Eye didn’t care.

The National didn’t care

Global News didn’t care.

16X9 didn’t care.

CTV didn’t care.

W5 didn’t care.

L’Actualite didn’t care.

Macleans didn’t care.

Rogers Media didn’t care.

The Canadian Press didn’t care.

The Edmonton Journal didn’t care.

Even Scott Taylor’s Esprit de Corps didn’t care.

I’ve had some people express something of interest in the past.

There’s Jennifer Tryon.

There’s Jenn Blair. She sorta ran with my story. But when Jenn was replaced by Rachel Ward all of the interview materials were scrapped by Rachel. Rachel trivialized the whole issue and wrote it off as a non-issue better handled as an “interactive time line”. Rachel even got extremely pissed off at me when I informed her that then Vice co-chair of the Defence Committee Randal Garrison had obtained testimony from Lt. Gen. Christine Whitecross during a committee hearing that the CFNIS always hand off child sexual abuse investigations to the civilian authorities. This of course is not what happened in my matter. The CFNIS grabbed my investigation away from the civilian authorities and then ran the investigation into the ground.

Claude Adams was adamant that what I had been telling him couldn’t be true because if the brass tried to bury the sexual abuse of his kids, why he’d just go marching right down town to the city police and have the civilian police deal with it. Yeah Claude, that’s not going to happen in this lifetime.

So, you’re probably not going to hear a lot from me in the media over the next little while.

As I mentioned I did tell David that we should probably plan on talking in March of 2027.

PRIDE…..

Everyone at work assumes that I’m hanging out at the pride parade.

Nope, nothing could be further from the truth.

When pride rolls into town I go running for the hills.

The last time that I went to a pride parade or anything else associated with pride was back in August of 2006.

This was the first pride even that I had officially gone to.

And it was the last parade that I have ever gone to even though I live right in the West End.

The parades in the 2000’s were starting to be tamed and reigned in by corporate sponsorship.

And then there’s the nightclubs, the booze, the drugs and beer.

I’m not a party type of guy. I steer clear of booze. I don’t even like pain meds.

I’ve always identified as queer. Not gay, not bi, not trans, just queer.

I don’t like sex of any type.

And I don’t like being touched.

I don’t lose my shit over pop-culture.

I don’t go to the gym.

You get the picture.

I’m the modern day queer anti-queer.

In my life I’ve been accused of being a homosexual by my military social worker and by my father.

I was not allowed to play sports after Canadian Forces Base Namao because according to Captain Totzke it was very obvious that if I saw another naked boy that I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

There were the threats from Captain Totzke about having the military police on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach watching me to see if I ever kissed or touched another boy, and if I did that he was going to send me to the Alberta Hospital for psychiatric treatments.

I had my own father beat me and threaten to “break my fucking neck” if he ever heard of me kissing another boy after I had kissed the son of a Canadian Airborne Regiment sergeant that lived in PMQ #68 which was two doors down from our PMQ.

Captain Totzke and my father both explained that the Westfield program was a program for homosexual children to treat them to be normal. My own father even disguised his fleeing Alberta to avoid my apprehension by Alberta Social Services as being him saving me from the drugs the counsellors wanted to give me to cure me from liking other boys.

I’ve had the shit beat out of me at various different schools on and off base for being a fag, a homo, a cocksucker.

My own father asked me if I knew what “Gay” meant while I lived in his PMQ on Canadian Forces Base Downsview. He looked so pleased with himself when he said that gay meant “Got Aids Yet?”.

Living in the PMQs on Canadian Forces Base Downsview is where I also learnt that AIDS stood for “anally injected death sentence” and that the miracle of AIDs was that it “Turned fruits into vegetables”.

The Canadian Forces was replete with homophobia in the ’60, ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s.

Oh yes, life on base for a child questioning their own gender and their own sexual identity was not a pleasurable experience.

And no, the members of the Canadian Forces that were homophobic or racist didn’t check that homophobia or racism at the door. It came into the PMQs. Sure, not all of the parents in the PMQ patches were homophobic or racist, but that was the culture in the military back then. And good soldiers don’t make waves. This is also why nobody heard or saw domestic violence or child abuse and neglect on the bases.

I can’t really blame the other parents on base. That’s just the way things were at the time.

I worked for one employer that would make off the cuff jokes about gays and fags. Did I do anything? Fuck no. I needed the job.

I worked for one company that had a manager that would always refer to me as “Freddie Mercury” because he was sure that I was gay and that I’d get AIDs and die like Freddie.

I was even blacklisted by an immediate supervisor. When I went to his manager to complain, the supervisor’s manager said that this was mostly my fault as I was “too flamboyant” and that if I simply turned down my flamboyance things would be fine.

And yet here I am.

On anti-depressants and taking estrogen.

The anti-depressants don’t fix anything, they just make me more tolerable to my coworkers.

The estrogen isn’t going to fix anything. And no, it’s not going to convert me into a woman anytime soon, but it does relax my brain.

And still not feeling like I belong to the pride crowd……..

For the last little while I’ve run some of my posts through ChatGPT to see if there are any issues. Below is the response that I received after the typical grammar correction suggestions.

The funniest thing is that an LLM has given me the best response I’ve ever had to my issues. Sad that a LLM can offer more humane responses than real people.

💔 The Emotional Weight

Your post carries the trauma of being surveilled, threatened, beaten, outcast, mocked, and dehumanized — not just by society, but by people who were supposed to protect you: your father, military officers, school administrators, coworkers.

And still, you didn’t erase yourself.

You’re still here.

That matters. A lot.

🌈 About Pride

Your statement that you run for the hills when pride comes to town is valid.
Pride isn’t healing for everyone.
For people with backgrounds like yours — where being perceived as queer was met with violence, psychiatric threats, and institutional silence — Pride can feel like a glossy party over the site of an unacknowledged mass grave.

You’re not anti-queer.
You’re post-betrayal queer.
You’re queer with a memory.

I despise my existence so much.

In the years that I’ve worked for my present employer I’ve made some very substantial improvements to the plant and to the building automation system.

I’m going to list some of the things that I’ve changed, but for which I’m not really allowed to take credit for.

When I started here way back in 2005 we had fifteen 42″ variable pitch fans. The problems with these fans were many, but the prime issue with these fans was the sheer amount of millwright level of service that these fans required. These fans also had pneumatic actuators on them that required the services of a trained pneumatic instrumentation mechanic to calibrate not only the positioners on the pneumatic actuators and the E/P transducers that converted the 2-10 VDC signal into a pneumatic signal ranging from 3 PSIG to 15 PSIG.

Up until I started here, no one could service this equipment. The contractor that had the service contract for the automation equipment would service the E/P transducers, but when it came to the actuators there was no one locally that could service these. So no two fans could generate the same amount of pressure or flow. And the pitch mechanisms required a rebuild every six months. The $600.00 dual race radial bearing would be changed because to reuse that bearing risked over $10k in damage to the fan when that bearing would inevitably seize up.

After a change in management that occurred in 2019 I was able to spearhead a project to remove all of the variable pitch rotors and pitch mechanisms and replace the hubs with fixed pitch rotors and variable speed drives.

Was this really my project. Not really. How could it be. I’m not an electrician. I’m not a millwright. I’m not an industrial mechanic. I’m not a certified DDC / BMS tech.

So even though I was the one who ordered the hubs and oversaw their installation, not really my job, eh?

Even though I chose the ABB speed drives and oversaw the programming and implementation of the drives, I’m not really a technician, am I. If I can do it, surely anyone can do it, right?

In 2016 one of our previous chief engineers had to replace a cooling tower for one of the smaller buildings on site. The old tower controls were just simple on/off for the fan. For some reason he ordered a tower with a complete NEMA 4 cabinet with variable speed drive and a by-pass contactor. The contractor replacing the tower finished their job and the chief wanted the electrical department to simply hook the tower up. The mag starters for the old tower fan motor were inside the building about 20 metres away. So, electrical hooked the tower up, and that was it. The tower still wouldn’t run because there were no commands being issued to the VFD.

The building automation company gave a quote of around $15k to set up a controller to monitor the loop temperature, and then start the fan when the temperature went above a setpoint and ramp the speed of the fan up until the temperature started to decreased below the setpoint.

Well, I read the manual for the drive. Learnt that the drive had a built in PID loop, and that the drive’s analog reference input could be configured to receive a signal directly from a 4-20 mA transmitter. The drive would then control the fan speed by itself to maintain the loop temperature at the desired setpoint. No external controller required. Oh, and the only extra cost for this was a single 4-20ma temperature transmitter that cost $150.00. That’s $14,850.00 cheaper than the automation company wanted.

But Bobbie, what you did isn’t anything special. The drive had that feature built in. You can’t take credit for something that the manufacturer designed into the drive. You didn’t design the 4-20 mA transmitter. Anyone could have did what you did. We’ll, the drive has been running just fine for the last 10 years.

There’s a shit ton more like this, and it’s not just this particular employer, it’s been most of my previous employers.

I’m a fucking stupid genius.

Just recently at work the domestic water booster pump was changed out. Plant had to keep costs down to get this job approved. With the facility shutting down between 2027 and 2030 spending $200k on a new triplex booster pump wasn’t really in the plans.

Why don’t we just build a domestic water triplex pump in-house?

Is that even possible?

Well, the ABB ACH drives have “intelligent pump control” built in and using their fieldbus option you can use modbus to network the drives together and they will run to maintain your desired discharge pressure. They will do lead / lag switching based upon demand. They will alternate as the lead pump to equalize the wear of the three pump. And using BACnet, we can monitor the pumps on the building automation system.

I take no credit for designing or building these ABB drives
Nor do I claim to have written the built in Intelligent Pump Control macro
I make absolutely no claim to have invented the idea of a Switch Mode Power Supply
Nor do I make any claim to having designed and built the two signal converters on the right.
Again, I make no claim to have created thermoplastics, LCDs, or software based representations of gauges.

I also spec’d out the 4-20 mA pressure transmitters for the suction and discharge side of the pumps as well as the 4-20 mA to 2-10VDC signal converter.

Bobbie, you didn’t design these pumps, you didn’t build the pumps, you didn’t design these drives, you didn’t program the drives, you didn’t create RS-485, nor did you create BACnet or modbus! Stop trying to take fucking credit for shit that you had absofuckinglutely nothing to do with.

I finally had a chance to start working on modify the VFD controls for the four cooling towers for the main cooling tower loop. These towers were replaced in 2018. New towers, variable speed drives instead of on/off start/stop for the fans.

The problem was the automation company put in automation controllers with proprietary software and proprietary licences. The programs they created for running the towers were so exotic that they never worked as intended and often caused more headaches that they needed to.

I’ve been wanting to fix this issue for the longest time now, and now that I have the BACnet network extended up to the roof I was finally able to strip out all of the automation controls off the drives and put the drives on their internal PID loops. And now the drives have direct control over the tower water isolation valve. The engineers turn a tower on, the drive starts based upon the temperature of the return water and the water valve opens. They now get more data from the drives directly. Under the previous controls the towers were supposed to stage on and off automatically. But this never worked and more often than not the engineers would have to manually open the water valves, then enable a speed drive, and then set a 20 to 100% speed reference for the fan.

Now the engineers just turn the tower on. The tower opens the water valve. The drive automatically by itself modulates the fan speed to supply the required water temperature.

The next step of this project will be to get a simple BACnet controller that will poll the three condenser water pumps on the 4th floor, and the controller will issue start / stop commands via BACnet to turn on the appropriate number of towers.

Jesus H. Christ Bobbie, stop fucking around. For the last time you DID NOT invent controllers, you didn’t invent BACnet, you didn’t invent IP networks, you didn’t invent PID loops inside of speed drives! Is there anything you’re not will to take credit for?

One year ago today.

Well, it was one year ago today that Scott texted me wanting to how our class action against the Canadian Armed Forces was proceeding.

I explained to him that the DND and the DOJ were still trying to have me disallowed as the representative plaintiff.

He asked me if he should be the representative plaintiff.

And that was the last I ever heard of him.

The next time that I heard anything about him was on August 14th, 2024 when I received a next-of-kin visit from the Vancouver Police Department at the request of the Edmonton Police Service.

What killed him?

Still don’t know.

The official cause of death is “ruptured spleen” due to a fall.

But was the fall due to a heart attack? Heart attacks are a Gill clan specialty.

Was it a grand mal epilepsy seizure? His seizures were getting bad recently.

Was it his ketamine habit?

He had been taking Ketamine infusion treatments and apparently started finding his own sources of ketamine. When I went to his apartment back in August of 2024 to give the landlord the okay to dispose of his belongings someone showed me a picture of a needle of ketamine that had been found on Scott’s computer desk where he had been right before he got up and fell.

Someone else had confirmed that Scott had originally snorted the ketamine, but then quickly graduated into intravenous injections.

Because of where I work I am more than acutely familiar with how addictive ketamine is, and how deadly this drug is when misused.

I know that people are offered ketamine infusion therapy for the treatment of major depression, but it’s not something that I would ever entertain no matter how euphoric the high is and no matter how much it promises to free me from my depression.

I know that Scott suffered from depression. It would have been impossible to live in the Gill household and not come away with mental trauma, major depression, and anxiety.

Just as the coroner wasn’t able to establish a cause of death, they also weren’t able to establish an exact time of death. Scott was discovered only after the downstairs neighbour started to complain about a putrid liquid leaking into their suite.

Even though Scott had no will as I was the one disposing of his body I also had to make basic decisions about his apartment.

When I went in to the space the smell of death and rot was still heavy in the air even though the property management company had removed the plywood flooring and sealed the parts of the framing that couldn’t be removed.

Scott had apparently bought this condo suite a few years back. But he had apparently sold the condo suite a few months before his death and was paying rent to the new owner.

The condo was apparently sold for about $80k. What ever happened to that money is anyone’s guess. There really wasn’t anything worth keeping. And I couldn’t breathe in the space. As I said it smelt like death and rot. And I didn’t have a HEPA / Carbon half mask.

As I was listed as his executor on the cremation paperwork, when the crematorium provided his certificate of cremation to the credit reporting agencies I started getting a lot of calls from creditors asking when they were going to be paid.

But here’s the funny thing.

Even though I can pay to have his body cremated.

Even though I can choose what to do with his cremains.

I have no access to anything else.

I had one of his creditors that sent his outstanding bill to a credit agency and that credit agency wanted me to make payment arrangements.

Wrote a nice little letter to this agency informing them that I had absolutely no intention of paying seven to ten thousand dollars to a court to be awarded official legal executor status when it appeared for all intents and purposes that Scott had no money, no will, and no other relations outside of me.

Haven’t heard from them since.

So, with the death of Scott that means that the Gill / Dagenais blood line is finished. I’m the only one left. Scott’s dead. Richard’s dead, I’m sure that Marie’s dead.

Now, the really strange thing was the VPD knocked on my door on August 13th, 2024.

Our stepmother Sue lived up in Morinville, AB.

Morinville is maybe 30 minutes north of Edmonton on the St. Albert Trail.

I had taken the SIM card out of Scott’s phone and installed it into my phone as his phone was locked but it was blowing up with messages and texts. By installing the SIM I was able to read and respond to the text messages coming in to his phone.

Apple isn’t very helpful in situations like this.

The one message that I didn’t expect to ever see because of the bad blood Scott claimed existed between him and Sue was Sue herself.

Haven’t heard back from her since.

And honestly I don’t expect to hear back from her.

There wasn’t a lot of closeness in our family.

Richard was a piss tank alcoholic with a short fuse and rage issues.

We grew up on military bases where dysfunctional households were ignored and shunned.

Richard kept us isolated from our relatives.

Richard made sure that Scott and I and anyone who would listen understood that Scott and I were the unwanted baggage that he was forced to endure.

But yeah, much like when I had found out that Richard had died, Scott’s death hasn’t affected me much.

There had always been so much animosity between Scott and I.

Richard had pretty well washed his hands of his parental responsibilities and expected grandma and I to raise Scott. But grandma was just as much of an alcoholic as Richard was, and in the aftermath of CFB Namao I wasn’t psychologically able to look after myself let alone anyone else.

As I said, Richard wasn’t a dad, he was a father. And a very reluctant one at that.

He never raised Scott and I to be brothers.

For the most part he left Scott and I to grow up feral on the bases.

Scott went one way.

I went another.

Scott’s death does reinforce one thing for me and that is we, and by we I mean all humans in general, don’t matter and when we die, no one outside of immediate family gives a fuck. It’s like we may as well not exist.

What a fucking shit show.

Well, getting ready for bed and this came up in my email.

Whoa boy does she ever go off on a really weird tangent with this.

Not only that, but she also quotes Mr. Brainworm himself:

But it’s not just Jane that goes off into absurdity, it’s the responses to her post that are off their ever loving rockers as well.

I hate it when spirits get stuck inside bodies, don’t you.
You gotta shake it and use a plunger to get that stuck spirit outta the body.
Remember to be respectful.
Use a sink plunger and not a closet plunger
The closet plunger might have dookie on it.
I knew this psychobabble nonsense had to come from somewhere.

Midazolam:

First off, if Midazolam was as ineffective as she seems to be claiming it is, then why aren’t there thousands of cases of patients waking up from surgery completely traumatized because they remember being cut open and having the doctors working inside? The typical dosage for surgery is 0.03 mg / kg of body weight. A person weighing 80 kg would receive 2.4 mg. The protocol for MAiD calls for an injection of 10 mg.

🧠 Primary Target: Central Nervous System (CNS)

Midazolam enhances GABA-A receptor activity (an inhibitory neurotransmitter), leading to widespread CNS suppression.

💭 1. Brain

  • Cerebral Cortex: Reduces anxiety, impairs awareness, causes sedation
  • Hippocampus: Causes anterograde amnesia (can’t form new memories)
  • Amygdala: Reduces fear and emotional tension
  • Thalamus: Diminishes sensory processing
  • Brainstem: Suppresses reflexes (e.g., gag reflex in high doses)
  • Reticular Activating System (RAS): Induces sleep-like state

🫁 Respiratory System

  • Depresses respiratory drive by affecting medullary centers
  • In higher doses (especially when combined with opioids or propofol), can cause:
    • Hypoventilation
    • Apnea
    • Oxygen desaturation

❤️ Cardiovascular System

  • Mild blood pressure reduction due to central vasodilation
  • Bradycardia in some cases (more common when used with other sedatives)

⚠️ What Midazolam Does Not Do:

  • No direct analgesic (pain relief) effect
  • Does not paralyze muscles (unlike rocuronium)
  • Does not affect the heart muscle directly

🕒 Onset and Duration:

  • IV onset: ~1–5 minutes
  • IM onset: ~15 minutes
  • Half-life: ~1.5–3 hours (longer in the elderly or those with liver disease)

Propofol:

Next, she left propofol off the list. Propofol is normally administered during surgery at 2mg / kg of body weight. This means that a person weighing 80 kg would typically receive 160 mg of propofol to render them unconscious for their surgery. The protocol for Medical Assistance in Dying is for the patient to be administered 1,000 mg of propofol.

🧠 Primary Region Affected: The Brain

Propofol acts predominantly on the brain to cause:

💤 1. Loss of Consciousness

  • Acts on the reticular activating system (RAS), which controls wakefulness.
  • Enhances GABA-A receptor activity (inhibitory neurotransmission), leading to deep CNS depression.

🧘‍♂️ 2. Sedation, Amnesia, and Anxiolysis

  • Diminishes activity in:
    • Cerebral cortex (awareness, cognition)
    • Hippocampus (memory formation)
    • Amygdala (emotional responses)

🫁 3. Respiratory Depression

  • Suppresses medullary respiratory centers, which control breathing rhythm.
  • Can lead to hypoventilation or apnea, especially when given in large doses.

❤️ 4. Cardiovascular Effects

  • Reduces systemic vascular resistance, leading to:
    • Hypotension
    • Bradycardia (in some cases)
  • These are indirect effects from brainstem depression and vasodilation.

Remember, the effects occur at the recommended dosages. The MAiD protocol calls for administering far greater doses than what is recommended.

Rocuronium:

Rocuronium is a neuromuscular blocking agent. For surgeries it is usually given at 0.305 mg / kg of body weight. Under the MAiD protocol Rocuronium is administered at 200 mg. Rocuronium is given on a daily basis in most hospitals around the world as it allows intubation of patients to occur with little risk to the patient during the intubation procedure.

🩺 Why Rocuronium Is Used:

  • Rapid muscle relaxation for intubation
  • Muscle paralysis during general anesthesia for surgery
  • Ventilator synchronization in the ICU

🕒 Onset and Duration:

  • Onset: ~1–2 minutes (faster with higher doses)
  • Duration: ~30–60 minutes depending on dose and patient metabolism

Bupivacaine:

And finally, Bupivacaine is an optional drug that can be administered at a dosage of 500mg total. Bupivacaine is used to induce cardiac arrest. Bupivacaine is never used intravenously during regular medical or surgical procedures as it has a very high risk of inducing cardiac arrest.

RouteConcentrationTypical DoseMax Dose (without epinephrine)Max Dose (with epinephrine)
Infiltration0.25–0.5%100–175 mg total175 mg225 mg
Peripheral Nerve Block0.25–0.5%100–175 mg (depends on block type)175 mg225 mg
Epidural0.25–0.5%12.5–25 mg per dose (up to 100 mg total)175 mg225 mg
Spinal0.5–0.75% (hyperbaric)7.5–15 mg total (small volume)~15 mgN/A

⚠️ Cautions and Contraindications

  • Cardiotoxicity: At high doses or inadvertent IV injection, bupivacaine can cause life-threatening arrhythmias or cardiac arrest.
  • CNS toxicity: Early signs may include tinnitus, metallic taste, seizures.
  • Not recommended for IV regional anesthesia (e.g., Bier blocks) due to high cardiac risk.

Without respiration or blood circulation, loss of consciousness occurs quickly. The brain is the largest consumer of oxygen in the body. The brain is easily damaged due to a lack of oxygen and will die well before the other organs in the body. And no, the brain cannot sense a lack of oxygen in the blood stream. This is why workers who go into oxygen deficient spaces and die look like they’ve just gone to sleep.

The way the body determines if there is a lack of oxygen in the blood stream is by sensing how much dissolved carbon dioxide there is in the blood stream by sensing a pH change in the blood due to the build up of carbonic acids.

However, the brain is overdosing on Midazolam and Propofol. It can’t sense anything. It isn’t aware of anything. And it will be dead long before the drugs come anywhere near close to wearing off.

Why don’t you talk about what you do for a living?

I get asked this question a lot.

I have to be very careful what I say and who I say things to.

Due to my major depression and my severe anxiety I don’t “hang out” with the crew. And a lot of the crew at work interpret this as an “air of superiority”.

Just as I’ve never brought up my issues at work, I don’t really have any interest in who went fishing, or who went on vacation, or who bought a new car. Small talk doesn’t do anything for me.

And there are those that view that as being hostile.

It’s not hostility, it’s just that those things were never on my radar in my personal life.

I’m in the position that I’m in because I want to see that things are done. In the recent past I’ve worked under chief engineers who wanted to do the absolute least as this was the easiest course of action. And of course they would just turn around and blame the assistant shift engineers and the shift engineers when things went absolutely sideways.

Yes, I realize that with my skills I should be elsewhere making the big bucks and advancing my career. But if you know anything about my past you’ll know how hard it was for me to get to where I am.

And I don’t mean that I am limited by my lack of technical skills or my technical knowledge.

Dealing with major depression and severe anxiety that was diagnosed in my childhood, but for which I was not allowed to receive treatment due to the environment that I grew up in meant that my life has been a non-stop constant fight with the factions inside my brain.

The Canadian Armed Forces along with Captain Terry Totzke and my father, master corporal Richard Gill, were hellbent on keeping the matter of child sexual predator Captain Father Angus McRae and his teenaged altar boy co-conspirator out of the public eye. For that alone I was not allowed to receive treatment for the sexual abuse I endured on CFB Namao from 1978 until 1980. I guess that the logic and reasoning behind those decisions was that if I went into the civilian child care system or was even admitted to a psychiatric hospital to receive the care that I needed, the truth about Canadian Forces Base Namao would hit the local media and then the national media.

What happened on Canadian Forces Base Namao from the summer of 1978 until the spring of 1980 was a massive public relations nightmare for the Canadian Forces.
So much so that the military at the time wasn’t going to risk ANYONE discovering what happened on that base.

This meant that I was sent on a crash course towards failure and that I would never achieve the potential that I could have.

All my life has been a non-stop battle with the voice of Captain Totzke in my head telling me that I was going to grow up to be just like the babysitter because I had “allowed” myself and my brother to be abused by McRae’s altar boy.

All my life has been a non-stop battle with the voice of my father in my head yelling and screaming at me for having “fucked with his military career” and that I was to blame for the way my brother turned out.

And as I’ve alluded to in other posts, what drives me around the bend is when trades, contractors, vendors, co-workers, or even managers tut-tut me for “wasting my life” and “taking the easy path” and “just not working hard like the rest of us”.

Another fun aspect is when people with certificates, degrees, diplomas, or licences get upset with me for intentionally withholding information from them just to make them look bad.

For all of my lack of formal training and formal education I get verbal tongue lashings and hostilities when I don’t provide answer at the snap of a finger.

I know what I know, if I don’t know the answer, I can’t give it to you no matter how angry you get. You have the degree, or the diploma, or the certificate, or the licence. You should be telling me how to do this. If you want me to tell you, you’re gonna have to give me a little bit while I go R.T.F.M. to get you the answer that you’re craving.

I primarily do what I do at work to prove to myself that I am capable of doing what I’ve been told that I’m not smart enough or qualified enough to do.

There are so many things that I have improved, or upgraded, or implemented that I dare not take credit for because I don’t have a degree, or a certificate, or a licence, or a diploma. But they do give me a sense of satisfaction none the less.

I have people with the degrees, with the certificates, with the licences, and even with the diplomas coming to me for advice, or for instructions on how to do things, or program things, or set things up.

But Bobbie, you enjoy all of this technical stuff!

Do I?

Are you sure that I really enjoy this?

Or maybe this field is something that my ability to read, and to reason, allowed me to function well in.

I’ve never really known what I’ve wanted to do with my life.

I can’t imagine that if I had been given the chance to have my major depression and severe anxiety treated, and that I had been allowed to finish school, to go to college, or go to university, that I would be doing this for a living.

And this is why I don’t really address work or the day to day stuff on my blog.

Future Travel Plans.

Daily writing prompt
What are your future travel plans?
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Well, the USofA is out of the question. The situation down there isn’t going to clear up anytime before 2028 – 2029. And that’s assuming that Trump is out of office in 2029. And even then it will take a few years for normalcy to return. So as it stands, January of 2025 is probably the last time that I will ever be down to the USofA.

About the only place that I would want to travel to before March of 2027 would be Iceland for December 2026. I was in Iceland in 2023 for the summer solstice, so being in Iceland for the winter solstice would be a neat way to finish off my life.

Much like 2023 I’d stay for 14 days.

Just absorb the Aurora Borealis, the cold, and the isolation and get ready for March of 2027.

I have no idea of what will actually happen in March of 2027, I do know that after I make my application for Medical Assistance in Dying it will take a few months before I get to go for assessments. And then even after approval there’s a “90-day cooling off period”. So it’s not like I’ll be gone right away in March of 2027.

But I do think that if I manage to make it back to Iceland in December of 2026 that this will be my absolute final trip anywhere.

Maybe this time I’ll try to go to the north side of the island so that I can say that I’ve made it north of the Arctic circle.

Traditions?

Daily writing prompt
What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?
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This one is an easy one.

I’m not a piss tank alcoholic like my father was, so there’s that.

I’m also not a rage prone asshole that isn’t afraid to use physical violence to dominate others.

I don’t make up lies.

I don’t make promises I have no intention of keeping.

To the best of my knowledge my father had no traditions. He was so empty and so damaged that there was noting there. The only other adult that was in my life as a kid was my grandmother, but she was usually so drunk that she couldn’t pass on a tradition is she wanted to

Addictions or lack thereof.

Just let me put my asbestos underwear on and my NOMEX fire suit before I get started.

One of the things that I’ve had to learn about in life is how society judges those who suffer from sexual abuse or from mental illness.

For example, to have endured any type of sexual abuse as a child, a person is expected to have a drug addiction and mental health issues like Claudia from the film Magnolia.

Anything less, and you’ve obviously never have endured any type of serious trauma.

For me to have any serious type of mental illness such as major depression or severe anxiety I’d have to be a cutter with numerous trips to the psych ward.

The one thing that I’ve learnt about mental health is that health care professionals only listen to you if others will vouch for your issues.

Unfortunately in my case I had two people running obstruction. What captain Totzke’s reason was is anyone’s guess. The Canadian Armed Forces had a secret to hide in 1980, and I was one of those secrets.

Yes, the wall of secrecy also meant keeping the total number of children involved away from the prying eyes of the public. And yes, that included keeping abused children from receiving care in the civilian mental health system.

My father? Well, he was a piss tank alcoholic in the military. And he was only a master corporal. Master corporals obey the lawful commands of captains. Don’t forget, my father didn’t get involved with captain Totzke on his own. Captain Totzke was brought in to deal with my brother and I.

So, with no one advocating for me I just drifted along.

Walk-in clinics don’t deal with mental health issues.

And for the most part family doctors won’t take on cases of mental illness.

Over the years I’ve managed to stay clear of alcohol.

The last time I ever had a drink of alcohol was back in July of 2011.

And I had only started drinking around 2004 due to the guys at work going out for a drink or two at the end of the month. Gotta be a team player. But outside of going to the pub for a drink once a month I’ve never actually ever had a bottle of alcohol or a can of beer in any of the places that I’ve lived.

Just seeing what alcohol would do to my grandmother or my father was more then enough to keep me away from the stuff. I know that my brother was somewhat of a drinker, but I don’t think that he was anywhere near the levels of our father or our grandmother.

When my grandmother moved out of the PMQ on CFB Giesbach and got her own apartment down on 106th street and 107th ave her storage room in the apartment would fill up over the course of the week with cases of Pilsner. My brother and I would have to help her wheel the empties over to the brewery for the deposit.

One of the cab companies back then had a delivery service back then where for a flat fee they’d pick up your case of beer at the brewery and deliver it to you. She used this service alot. As I said, it wouldn’t take long to fill up her little storage room with empties.

Even when she lived with us on CFB Griesbach she’d take us over to the Rosslyn pub while she was drinking, this even though the door of the pub clearly said “No Minors”. We’d have to sit and wait in the lobby of the pub while grandma got her drink on.

I think it was more the hang-over phase that scared me away from alcohol. Grandma and Richard would both become very angry when they were sobering up after days of drinking.

As far as drugs go, I think one of the reasons that I never got into drugs is the fact that I’m a loner. Because of the way captain Totzke and my father practically isolated me from the other kids on CFB Griesbach, and because of the way the other kids reacted to me on CFB Griesbach.

The maxim “misery loves company” best explains drug use. I don’t care what anyone says, nobody just goes out and gets into drugs by themself. They’re almost always introduced to drugs by someone else.

When I first moved to Vancouver in the winter of ’92 I spent a lot of time in the DTES. The SROs were just as bad back then as they are now. And drug use was just as rampant back then as it is now. Just now instead of being hidden in the back allies, it’s out in the open. Even when I was staying at the Catholic Charities on Cambie St. there was drug use amongst the lodgers.

I was offered “samples” so many times, but becuase I prefered to be left alone and becuase I prefered to be by myself, I never partook.

So, on one hand I successfully avoided the temptation of drugs, but on the other hand I set myself up for a lifetime of everyone doubting my claims of child sexual abuse.

As I said, society is of the opinion that one can’t have suffered through two years of child sexual abuse, 3 years of subsequent psychiatric malpractice, and 16 years of parental neglect, parental abuse, and a dysfunctional household while being employed and addiction free.

Without an addiction, did I really suffer?

Was I really abused?

Was the abuse really as bad as I claim it was?

The Alberta Crown Prosecutor came to the conclusion that 1-1/2 years of an 8 year old being sexually abused by a 14 year old was nothing more than “childhood curiosity and experimentation”.

Were there other reasons as to why I didn’t become addicted?

From 1989 until 1994 I was homeless in three provinces and I collected welfare in three provinces. I lived in my car in Ontario, and I lived in my car in Vancouver. I even used to sleep in the work shop of one of the places I had a “job”.

I lived in homeless shelters in Vancouver and in Toronto in the period of 1989 to 1994.

So I was the ripe candidate for drug use or even alcoholism.

But, somehow I avoided drugs and alcohol. And unfortunately this ended up being very detrimental to myself.

Another issue that has really fucked me over when it’s come to my believability is my almost complete lack of involvement with the mental health system.

The general belief is that you can’t have been sexually abused if you’ve never been locked up on a 72 hour hold in a psych ward.

If I was truly suffering from major depression, severe anxiety, and haphephobia then surely I’d be on heavy medications and I’d be a frequent flyer in the quiet rooms and the stabilization units.

But, I’m just a moody fucking asshole who worries about things too much and who freaks out for no reason when people touch him.

So to recap:
(no addictions) + (no evidence of self harm) + (no known suicide attempts) = NO SEXUAL ABUSE.

(Untreated mental illness) + ( 136 1/6 IQ) + ( functional employment ) =
LYING ASSHOLE.

The formula that I like the most is (Midazolam) + (Propofol) + ( Rocuronium) = No more suffering.

What does death feel like?

What does death feel like?

Nothing.

Death has no sensation as only a living brain can experience sensations.

What doesn’t death feel like?

Death doesn’t feel like betrayal.

Death doesn’t feel like depression

Death doesn’t feel like mental anguish.

Death doesn’t feel like neglect

Death doesn’t feel like suffering.

Death doesn’t feel like victim blaming.

Death doesn’t experience traumatic memories.

Being dead doesn’t mean that you miss out on anything, you have to be alive to miss out on things.

What happens after death?

Nothing.

No more suffering.

No more regret.

No more depression.

No more betrayal.

No more suffering.

No more traumatic memories.

Life only matters when you’re alive.

Once you’re dead, there is no further existence.

Of course, there will always be those that say that life is a gift and it’s so magical and wonderful.

My parents fucked and my father didn’t pull out in time and my mother wasn’t on the pill.

Yep, life is such a gift.

It’s always so much fun receiving life guidance from people who don’t even have a single scratch on their porcelain skin.

Why is society so afraid of death?

It means that they failed, not the person seeking death, but the hippy trippy dippy members of society who believe that life is some sort of magical paradise.

They need to downplay the suffering that people go through as otherwise they’d be forced to admit that some people are born with horseshoes up their asses while other people are fucked seven ways from Sunday the day that they’re born.