Proof of Efficacy?

“What possessed you to write your Proof of Existence post?” you might ask.

It’s quite simple. We all have a “preferred” view of the world, a 'paradigm’ if you will. A way that we react and respond to what happens around us. (And yes, Nettie, I know that k.d. doesn’t like the term ‘paradigm.’ He’ll get over it, eventually. Or…. he won’t.)

Anything that challenges our worldview is usually discarded and considered by most people to be unworthy of even thinking about. Just because someone says it’s so, doesn’t mean it’s so. And conversely, just because someone says that it isn’t so, doesn’t mean that it isn’t so. But then again, I’m a freethinker; I always have been, always will be.

I guess I’m not alone. Today Jean Alexander, in her article, Mothering, over at The Libertarian Enterprise, described her attempts to teach her children right:

I make sure to educate my children to not blindly follow. . . anyone. We teach them to question and use their intelligence, rather than emotions, to review and analyze information. We've made clear that just because it comes from our president (or other government or corporate official) in a televised speech doesn't mean it's true. We've made sure they question even *us*, their parents, if they feel they are right or don't understand. We've made very clear the difference between opinion, fact, and emotionally charged rhetoric. And so, my three will be. . . less handicapped.

I tried to do the same with my kids. Of course, that doesn’t mean that they, or I for that matter, will always be right. But it does mean that they won’t always be wrong. I have to admit that there are times when I wish I had trained them to believe their father, but I'd rather know that they believe me because I'm right rather than from some conditioned response.

In a response to B.W.Richardson’s article Attack of the 50-Foot Quotidian, Sunni Maravillosa, in her article Why Not a Quotidian Quest for Greatness? (Or, Fuck That Shit, and All Ye Who Peddle It.), quotes John Taylor Gatto as having said:

I’ve concluded that genius is as common as dirt. We suppress our genius only because we haven’t yet figured out how to manage a population of educated men and women. The solution, I think, is simple and glorious. Let them manage themselves.

(Shelly, you may remember that we discussed JTG and that I forgot to loan you his book Dumbing Us Down when you were here. You GOTTA remind me about these things!!!!!)

Now, just for grins and giggles, let’s say that I was born back before the Prussian style of education, designed to produce good little soldiers and workers, got too firmly established in America. Born out in the central Midwest, somewhere like Kansas or Nebraska, where it takes a while for the depredations of the educational socialists to be felt. How about we say Nebraska, in the year 1888?

Being able to manage myself--remember Gatto’s quote--I exercised my ‘genius’ exploring my passion for microscopes, microbiology, and electronics. Not having anyone to tell me that it can’t be done—not that I would listen at all, believing like Richardson and Maravillosa—I designed a microscope with over 6,000 parts, over two feet tall, weighing 200 pounds, and capable of enlarging an image over 61,000 times. With such powerful resolution I would be able to see viruses. And since I’m using radiation in the visible and near visible spectrum of light, I wouldn’t be killing the virus by simply looking at it like electron microscopes of today do.

I invented technology that is still in use in quite a few fields; optics, electronics, radiochemistry, biochemistry, ballistics, and aviation. It is only recently that my “Universal Microscope” has been equaled but not necessarily duplicated.

Having been the subject of newspaper articles, not to mention articles in Science, Popular Science, and California and Western Medicine magazines, in addition to The Smithsonian Institute documenting my accomplishments and my microscopes in their magazine, you’d think I was doing pretty well now.

You’d be wrong!

It all started when I found out that not only could I watch live viruses, I also learned how to kill them. Selectively! No one told me that I couldn’t do it so I tried exposing them to various frequencies of radio waves. Because I was watching them in real time, I could tell when I reached a frequency that killed them. I’d mark the dial on my transmitter so I could find that frequency again. We didn’t have frequency counters back then so that I could write down the precise frequency.

Mark Twain said, “What work I have done I have done because it has been play. If it had been work I shouldn't have done it.” (A tip of the tam o’shanter to k.d. for that Twain quote!)

So, while playing around with the killing of viruses, I mean ‘working’ on killing viruses, I soon suspected that cancer was caused by a virus that I named the “BX” virus. After 20,000 unsuccessful attempts, I isolated the particular virus I thought responsible for cancer and injected it into 400 lab animals. I caused 400 cases of cancer to develop in those lab animals. But, not only did I cause the 400 cases of cancer, I used my radio frequency techniques to cure those same cases of cancer.

This caused such a stir that, in 1934, a committee was formed to bring 16 terminally ill cancer patients to my lab and clinic to see what I could do for them. My work was supervised by the Chief of Bacteriology at the Mayo Clinic, the director of Northwestern Medical School, the president of the University of Southern California, the chief surgeon of the Santa Fe railway, along with folks from the Children’s Hospital in New York, the Metabolic Clinic in La Jolla, California, the Hooper Foundation in San Francisco, the Chicago University, along with various and sundry other folks, like doctors and pathologists.

That’s when everything hit the fan. I cured 14 of the patients within the 90 days that they had been expected to live. The other two took me another couple of weeks to cure. In one test, sixteen patients were CURED out of sixteen diagnosed terminally ill cancer patients!! That’s a 100% success rate in my book.

Remember when I asked how many flying saucers that it took to prove that flying saucers existed? Let me ask you this: “How many patients do I need to cure to prove that something that I’m doing is “curing” these patients of cancer?”

Now, I realize that putting your hands on the control panel of an extra-terrestrial saucer and playing with the switches is a bit different than me trying to control a multitude of variables to produce a desired effect, the complete remission of cancer. In addition to the sixteen patients I cured in the first test I, and others like me, continued to treat and cure other patients.

Now, with my memory the way it is now, I can’t recall the exact success rate that I, or anyone else, experienced. However, given the facts as I have presented them here, is there a chance that I have discovered a cure for cancer? One that deserves further exploration to determine whether or not it works as intended?

What do you think?