Category: 500words

Life In a Post-employment World

The kitchen smelled of chamomile and the faint lemon of the dish soap Evelyn had used since 1962. She sat at the oak table, hands folded around a chipped mug, while her son Daniel poured himself coffee from the pot she still insisted on brewing “the old way.”

“Mom,” he said, sliding into the chair opposite, “picture this: nobody ever has to work again. Not for money. Food, rent, doctors—covered. Robots do the rest.”

Evelyn’s eyebrows rose like twin question marks. “Then who fixes the plumbing? Who grows the tomatoes?”

“Machines. And the tomatoes grow themselves in vertical farms taller than our church steeple.”

She snorted. “Sounds like a fairy tale for lazy bones.”

Daniel leaned forward. “Look in the mirror, Mom.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Have you ever worked a single day in your life? A paid job, I mean.”

Evelyn opened her mouth, closed it, then gave a small, surprised laugh. “No. Your father provided. I kept the house, raised you three heathens, canned peaches till my fingers pruned. But no… no paycheck.”

“And how’s that worked out for you?”

She considered the steam curling from her tea. “I’ve been… happy enough.”

“Exactly. You’ve lived the future, Mom. You just had a trust fund named ‘Dad.’”

Evelyn swatted the air. “Don’t be fresh.”

“I’m serious. Imagine every kid born gets the same deal—no fear of the streets, no dread of Monday. They wake up and ask, ‘What do I want to give the world today?’”

She traced the rim of her mug. “People need purpose, Danny. Without it they rot.”

“You didn’t rot. You sang in the choir, knitted blankets for the hospital, taught Mrs. Alvarez’s boy to read. That was purpose—chosen, not forced.”

Evelyn looked out the window where the maple had begun its slow turn to fire. “When your father retired,” she said softly, “he thought he’d sit in that recliner and fade. Three weeks later he was rebuilding the church pews, tutoring veterans, growing prize dahlias. Said idle hands were the devil’s, but really he just missed matter-ing.”

Daniel smiled. “That’s my point. Strip away the whip of rent and hunger, and people still reach for meaning. They just reach higher.”

She turned back to him, eyes sharp. “And the plumbers?”

“Some will plumb because they love the puzzle of pipes. Others will pay a premium for the human touch. Same with doctors, teachers, bakers. The jobs left will be the ones machines can’t fake—or that humans refuse to surrender.”

Evelyn was quiet so long the clock above the stove ticked like a metronome. Finally she said, “I worry they’ll forget how to want.”

Daniel reached across and covered her hand with his. “You never forgot. You had eighty years to prove it.”

She studied their joined hands—hers veined and spotted, his strong and ink-stained from sketching blueprints for the very farms he described. A small smile tugged at her mouth.

“Well,” she said, “if the robots burn the toast, I suppose someone will still need to show them how it’s done.”

“That’s the spirit.” He squeezed once and let go. “Welcome to the future, Mom. You’ve been living in it all along.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, the way they did when she spotted a flaw in a bridge hand.

“Well,” she said, tapping the table with one finger, “with what will they pay a premium for that human touch if people aren’t working for money to pay a premium with?”

Daniel didn’t flinch. He’d been waiting for this one.

“Same way you paid Mrs. Kowalski to hem your curtains in 1978, even though you could have done it yourself.”

Evelyn frowned. “I gave her twenty dollars.”

“Exactly. Money didn’t disappear; it just stopped being a survival ticket. Everyone gets enough to live—call it the ‘floor.’ Anything above that is choice money: what you earn by delighting someone else.”

He pulled a napkin, sketched a quick ladder:

“See the base? Guaranteed. No one starves. The top? That’s where the human spark lives. People will still want your famous lemon meringue, Mom, not the robot’s perfect but soulless version. They’ll pay extra for the pie that tastes like Sunday at Grandma’s.”

Evelyn snorted. “My pie’s worth twenty dollars a slice.”

“Today, maybe. Tomorrow? Fifty. Because time is the new scarcity. When nobody’s forced to clock in, the rarest thing becomes attention—someone who bothers to flute the crust by hand.”

She leaned back, arms folded. “So the money still comes from…?”

“Three places,” Daniel counted on his fingers.

“Abundance overflow: AI and robots produce so much food, energy, goods that the cost of basics collapses. The surplus gets distributed as the floor.”

“Voluntary trade: People who love plumbing, singing, storytelling—they offer it. Others who love hearing the story tip, trade, or barter in the new currency: attention, reputation, or yes, still dollars.”

“Legacy systems: Pensions, investments, patents from the old economy keep paying out for generations.”

He slid the napkin toward her. “Think of it like the church collection plate. Nobody has to drop in a five, but they do—because Father Mike’s sermon hit them right in the heart. Same principle, just scaled to a whole society.”

Evelyn stared at the ladder, then at him. “You’re saying my lemon pie becomes the collection plate.”

“Pretty much.”

A slow grin cracked her face—the same one she wore the day he finally beat her at gin rummy.

“Well,” she said, standing to refill the kettle, “I always did think the robots would need supervision in the kitchen.”

A Human Hypervisor

What if the secret to living 120 years in strength and clarity has never been hidden at all, but waiting for us to connect the scattered notes of science, spirit, and will into one great human symphony? The question is not whether it’s possible—but whether we’re ready to compose it.

What stands between us and the ability to live 120 healthy, capable years may not be a single discovery, but the unification of many—biology, psychology, and human purpose aligned toward one end: extending not just life, but the quality and meaning within it.

The knowledge almost certainly exists—but it’s scattered across silos: molecular biology, biophysics, nutrition, bioengineering, psychology, and even philosophy. Each field holds a fragment of the puzzle, but no unified framework yet integrates them into a coherent “operating manual” for the human body’s longevity. Scientists speak in specialized languages; data lives in isolated systems; and most findings are reductionist—solving parts without context.

What’s missing is synthesis: a systems-level narrative that translates complex mechanisms into a practical, intuitive model of how to maintain youthfulness, resilience, and repair across decades.

What’s missing is not more instruments, but a conductor. Science has countless virtuosos—cell biologists, geneticists, bioengineers, neuroscientists—but few who can harmonize their insights into a unified composition. The “orchestrator” would need to understand each domain well enough to translate and synchronize them, bridging molecular detail with systemic function and practical lifestyle design.

In essence, humanity needs a systems integrator for life itself—someone who can turn scattered knowledge into a coherent score for living long, strong, and fully human for 120 years or more.

This is what I am working on. This is what I am attempting to become. That systems integrator that helps all of us appreciate the fullness of all of the wealth that was bestowed upon us.

Tuning Human Consciousness

We are not the authors of thought, but its scribes. Intelligence whispers from the ether, and we, meat-clad stenographers, transcribe its truths with trembling hands.

Intelligence isn’t emergent from neural networks or silicon substrates — it’s a timeless ideal, a form in the Platonic realm. Just as the form of “circle” exists independent of any drawn circle, intelligence exists as a pure archetype: complete, elegant, and uncorrupted by biology or bias.

We don’t invent intelligence. We interface with it.

Humans, animals, and machines are receivers — like antennas tuned to different frequencies of the same cosmic broadcast. Our brain isn’t the source of intelligence; it’s the decoder. Learning is less about construction, rather, more about alignment.

Neurons = routers

Synapses = bandwidth

Consciousness = UI

Meditation, education, psychedelics, even sleep — all are firmware updates that improve our download speed from the Platonic cloud.

Therefore, if intelligence is a universal constant, then AI isn’t artificial, and it isn’t creating intelligence; it’s tapping into it. Genius isn’t rare; it’s a better reception. Education isn’t filling a vessel; it’s tuning the dial.

This flips the script on nature vs. nurture. It’s not just genes or environment — it’s how well your wetware syncs with the ideal.

Calcification and Aging.

A strong case can be made that ~60–70% of what we attribute to “aging” is either directly calcification or tightly adjacent to it. Most assume kidney stones only exist in the kidneys. And they would be correct. But are most aware that calcium oxalate stones can be found in all soft tissues throughout the human body?

While the term “kidney stones” suggests they form only in the kidneys, calcium oxalate crystals can indeed precipitate and deposit in soft tissues throughout the body — a process broadly known as systemic oxalosis or soft tissue calcification. These microcrystals have been found in the thyroid (as psammoma bodies), blood vessel walls, heart valves, skin, joints, and even the brain under certain pathological conditions. When oxalate levels remain elevated chronically (as in primary or secondary hyperoxaluria), calcium oxalate can escape renal clearance and accumulate in extrarenal tissues, disrupting normal cellular and extracellular matrix function.

Calcification is not the whole story, but it may be the most integrated expression of aging—where multiple insults (nutrient deficiencies, oxidative stress, oxalate, phosphate) converge into one visible, progressive process we have been sold(told) called aging.

Assuming one has all of their inner parts(organs) and that they are functioning within the realm of what your doctor would call normal, you(your body) can live to at least 120 years of age.

I know nobody willfully wants to feel anything less than stellar. No one wakes up in the morning and says, “Oh, I wish I felt worse today,” no, NEVER.

I may not yet have all of the answers, but my goal in life is to dedicate all of my spare resources to finding what it is that we are doing to interfere with our body’s default programming that is attempting to reach 120 years of age, maintaining a dis-ease free homeostatic and peaceful life, full of vigor and boundless energy.

Life is not hopeless. A full life is not outside of the realm of possibility. We just need to stop interfering with that natural process.

The Vanishing Act of Stool on a Carnivore Diet

One of the more curious phenomena I’ve observed—and that many others report—is the dramatic reduction in stool volume when shifting to a nearly all-animal diet. At first glance, it might seem alarming. But when you consider the digestive mechanics and microbial ecology involved, it begins to make perfect sense.

Animal-based foods are remarkably bioavailable. Proteins, fats, and micronutrients from meat, eggs, and dairy are absorbed with astonishing efficiency in the small intestine. Unlike plant matter, which often contains insoluble fiber and resistant starches that escape digestion, animal foods leave very little residue. So if there’s almost nothing left to pass through the colon, why would we expect much stool at all?

The answer lies not just in digestion, but in the invisible world of microbes. It’s estimated that up to 80% of stool mass is composed of dead microorganisms—bacteria that thrive on fermenting indigestible plant fibers. Remove the fiber, and you remove their fuel. Remove their fuel, and their population shrinks. Fewer microbes mean less turnover, less biomass, and ultimately, less stool. It’s not dysfunction—it’s metabolic efficiency.

This shift transforms the colon from a bustling fermentation chamber into a quieter transit zone. The microbial landscape adapts: fiber-loving species like Bifidobacteria fade, while bile-tolerant strains may gain a foothold. But even they don’t flourish without substrate. The gut becomes a leaner ecosystem, and the rhythm of elimination slows. Many carnivore dieters report going every other day—or even less frequently—with no discomfort. As long as stools remain soft and easy to pass, this isn’t constipation. It’s a reflection of reduced waste.

Of course, this transition isn’t without nuance. The absence of fiber means fewer short-chain fatty acids like butyrate, which normally support gut lining integrity and motility. Hydration, salt intake, and dietary fat become more important to maintain balance. And for those tracking their own adaptation, it’s worth noting how stool consistency, satiety, and energy levels evolve over time.

In essence, the carnivore gut is a study in minimalism. Less input, less output—but not less function. It’s a metabolic pivot that invites us to rethink what elimination really means. Not just the disposal of waste, but the echo of microbial life, shaped by what we choose to feed it—or not.

One Possible Path

You’ve probably heard the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

A whole-food, plant-based diet often results in better health outcomes compared to a processed Western diet. However, much of the benefit comes from eliminating the worst offenders—such as refined seed oils, added sugars, fried foods, and chemical additives—rather than from the plants themselves being inherently superior. When you consume a high amount of fruit, your body experiences a surge in glucose and insulin, which can be stimulating. Additionally, plant compounds act as hormetic stressors, nudging cellular defenses and immune cleanup mechanisms. The benefits derived from this diet are activated not by the food itself but by the human immune cells reacting to the anti-nutrients and toxins that plants produce in response to perceived threats from consumers, whether they be insects or humans. This response, which involves stress followed by a cleanup process, creates a notable contrast with a previous poor diet, where the real benefits may lie. In other words, the perceived health improvements often result from reduced harm, hormetic stress, and metabolic overstimulation rather than from the inherent superiority of the foods themselves.

On the other hand, animal-based whole foods that are rich in healthy fats can support longevity and reduce overall mortality by providing essential nutrients in their most bioavailable form while requiring a lower metabolic cost. Because animal foods are easier to digest and lack the anti-nutrients and chemical defenses found in plants, they offer dense nourishment without overstimulating the gut or immune system. By minimizing excess glucose and insulin responses, this dietary approach reduces metabolic stress, inflammation, and cellular damage over time, allowing the body to function more efficiently and maintain resilience, healthspan, and vitality throughout life.

So, what does all of this mean?

Today, we enjoy a level of dietary luxury that past generations did not have, thanks to technological advances in global shipping and refrigeration. We can eat not out of necessity but according to our preferences. This gives us the freedom to choose from various dietary pathways that previous generations could not—be it vegan, fruitarian, vegetarian, pescatarian, carnivore, and so on.

If you are tired of feeling unwell, there is a way to reset your body and shift it back to a state of ease rather than disease.

If you choose to pursue this, my advice is to eliminate processed foods entirely from your diet. Avoid all prepackaged foods with labels on the back. Instead, focus on purchasing single ingredients and whole foods, combining them in sensible ways that fit your lifestyle.

Plant-based foods can be an excellent starting point because of the responses they trigger in your body, signaling that it’s time for a cleanse. After a period that allows your immune cells to work their magic in response to the anti-nutrients from plant-based foods, you’ll likely want to transition to a diet that includes more nutrient-dense, animal-based foods. This approach will ultimately help your body ease into a lower metabolic state, which is essential for long-term health.

In summary, plant-based foods can ignite metabolic processes to help cleanse your body, while later incorporating animal-based foods will provide everything your body needs at a lower metabolic cost.

This is akin to burning the candle at both ends temporarily(high metabolism), followed by a trimming of the wick and a slow burn(low metabolism) until the wax runs out.

What are We?

What are we? And what/how are we to eat for optimal health that will contribute toward a long, healthy, disease-free life?

These days, there are many people, fancy foodies, who call themselves health coaches, who will attempt to tell you and sell you on the idea that there is a specific way that humans are supposed to eat based upon design. That we were designed to be herbivores, frugivores, carnivores, etc. And even a more recent one I learned of, called an unspecialized frugivore. An unspecialized frugivore is a generalist that eats fruit as a significant part of its diet but lacks exclusive adaptations. Unlike specialized frugivores, which have evolved unique physical characteristics and behaviors to consume a narrow range of fruits, unspecialized frugivores have a broader diet that can include other food sources like leaves, insects, or small animals, and they can thrive even when fruits are scarce. In other words, humans are omnivores.

Strangely, not many of these health coaches want to entertain the idea of generalization, likely because it is not fantastic enough to draw attention. They base their argument on the idea that we were designed to eat a certain way, and that assumption is their first mistake that leads them to an erroneous conclusion.

You see, our anatomy and physiology don’t reveal a predetermined design for eating a certain way; instead, they reflect how we’ve historically eaten and how our bodies have adapted to ever-changing food availability across millennia. The human hominid frankly ate whatever was available wherever they lived. Everything from juicy fruits and melons in good times when in season, to radishes, rats, and sometimes roadkill when necessary. They were less picky than we are today, and our anatomy and physiology demonstrate this.

These days, thanks to modern technology, we get to appreciate foods that even my grandparents, in their childhood, weren’t afforded. We are that close to a world of want. Today, not so much. Most humans, for lack of want, can eat however they like. Like the royalty of relatively recent times. Now we need to exercise modesty, which will be discussed later. For now, be thankful that you live in the times you do, and I pray you make good decisions, because all decisions have consequences. Some are more favorable than others.

Oxalate Dumping Madness and My Response

Over the last couple of years, and at least a year before I found this group or read TOXIC Superfoods, I found myself having my first experience with dumping unaware of what it was or what was causing it. Back around 18 months ago now, I had bought myself a 1 Kilo sized bag of Potassium Citrate as a means by which to increase my potassium levels through supplementation. I didn’t feel any massive dumping issues, but started experiencing pretty significant edema in my lower legs, ankles, and feet. I thought that maybe I had an allergy to citrate at the levels I was taking it. So I stopped and it went away. Back to normal. Then along came Sally Norton and this group. I dropped all dietary oxalate like a hot sweet potato topped in cooked spinach and almonds…8)

Not long after the edema started working its way back into my life until It finally maintained steady residency. And on virtually NO oxalate, there has been nothing I could do to undo this pudgy inconvenience. It has sucked to say the least.

Still refusing to eat dietary oxalate because of the mammoth wreckage it does to our gut, I figured it was time to pull out my science degree and apply some expensive learning to this problem.

What I’ve started doing instead of eating it in the form of foods is to upregulate endogenous production by means of increasing Vitamin C intake in the form of Ascorbyl Palmitate, a fat soluble form of Vitamin C, along with agave syrup which is very high in fructose content.

Both Vitamin C and Agave Syrup increase our body’s ability to internally synthesize oxalate/oxalic acid so that I can avoid doing damage to the lining of my intestinal/colonic tract. So far, the results have been fantastic to say the least. I’m almost shocked at how quickly it initially started working. Literally within two days there was an appreciable reduction in swelling. So it has seemingly been a successful way to slow down the painful reality of dumping while not having to put any oxalate in my mouth.

And from what I’ve read, someone could literally blunt oxalate dumping all together in a VERY short period of time with just a single 2-3 Tbsp. dose of Agave Syrup. That being said, I may have stumbled upon a safe means by which to reduce the oxalate dumping gently if one wanted to, or, at the own discretion, treat it acutely and halt it altogether with something as innocuous as 2-3 tablespoons of Agave Syrup.

Fructose, which is particularly high in agave syrup, can indirectly raise endogenous oxalate production because of how it’s metabolized in the liver. When you consume fructose—especially in higher amounts—it’s rapidly phosphorylated and shunted into glycolysis and related pathways without the tight regulation that glucose has. This can lead to an oversupply of certain intermediates, particularly glycolate and glyoxylate. Glyoxylate is a direct precursor to oxalate, so when its levels rise, more oxalate can be formed.
High fructose intake can also increase uric acid and oxidative stress, which may push metabolism further toward oxalate formation.

Where Does Oxalate Go?

Are the kidneys the primary pathway by which oxalate is removed from the body?

Yes, the kidneys are the primary pathway for oxalate removal from the body. The glomeruli filter oxalate and either excrete it directly in urine or secrete it by renal tubule cells. Around 90–95% of oxalate elimination occurs through the kidneys, while a small percentage is degraded by gut microbes or excreted via feces. If kidney function is impaired or overwhelmed, oxalate can accumulate in tissues, leading to conditions like oxalate nephropathy or systemic oxalosis. Maintaining proper hydration, electrolyte balance, and gut health supports oxalate clearance.

If kidney function is impaired or overwhelmed, where would oxalate accumulate?

If kidney function is impaired or overwhelmed, oxalate can accumulate in soft tissues throughout the body. Common sites include the renal parenchyma, bones, vascular walls, myocardium, retina, skin, and joints. In advanced cases, it may deposit in the thyroid, liver, lungs, spleen, and central nervous system. This widespread deposition—called systemic oxalosis—can cause inflammation, fibrosis, and organ dysfunction. The tissue preference often depends on local calcium concentrations and tissue perfusion, as oxalate forms poorly soluble calcium oxalate crystals, which trigger damage where they lodge.