Tuesday, February 2, 2021

Last Year 2020

I’m Sure Your Nipples Are Lovely

I have the right, as a slave, to hurt the slave owner, by being free.

Dec 23, 2020

This is why brick and mortar art galleries hate me, I give as much validity/value to digital artwork as painted/printed artwork. It’s not the canvas and the glue that sticks the pigments on whatever surface that are valuable, or even the mind that conceived the work. Anyone can make art, simply have a high tolerance of frustration and you can succeed at anything. It’s not even physically challenging, you are not like an Olympic athlete hopped up on performance enhancing drugs doing tricks for multi billionaire sponsors to enjoy.

Modern art, my second education in art, the first was old masters technique and materials, the third was formal education for 6 years at a postmodern school, claimed modern art to be a religious/spiritual experience, the critic (Greenburg) as shaman interpreting the natural world, the artist as mere stupid craftsman, much like a religion instead of science and the gallery as the temple. Today, still, to become a professional art worker there are rites of passage similar to the monastery.

The gallery I worked in got 20 visitors a month, to any artists show, in a year on Flikr alone I get 2 million. In a gallery as part of a stable of artists competing for a show providing my own framing and customers, usually friends and family, the richer the better, I am treated as little more than a slave by the gatekeepers of the artworld.

The business owners/gallerists treat art on the web as a tease, if you want to see my nipples, you have to come to the brick and mortar ‘real’ store where 70% of their income is derived by picture framing. Treating artists like a common grifter street whore, conning, hooking customers for them. Dressing up this sleaze with the trappings of sophistication and elegance. I prefer to be an honest sex artworker not a prostituted one.

The Christian conservative slaveowners that currently are in power in my little backwater of a province manipulate with guilt, obligation and fear as all narcissists do, in this case shaming those of us that buy on the internet, during a pandemic, supposedly causing their funders, store owners, to go broke, bastards that we are, avoiding malls, to stay alive.

My web page has no advertisers, my blog is funded by subscription, my framer/printer charges a fair price for a valid internet service. I sincerely wish every gallery to go broke like any slave owner, the slaves hurt the slave owner by being free.

I’m sure your nipples are lovely, but I don’t don’t need to drive to Texas to pay to see them, that’s not erotic art, that is sex work, titillations for religious conservatives and I am not in the market.

Hope and Promise are Choices

Narcissist’s and religion manipulate by withholding sex...

Dec 20, 2020

Rationally, in 2020, I look at Goya’s painting, The Nude Maja ([1] (Spanish: La maja desnuda[la ˈmaxa ðezˈnuða] is a name given to a c. 1797–1800 oil on canvas painting by the Spanish artist Francisco Goya ) and initially I see the flush of the models’ sexual excitement and project on her the hope and promise of her satisfactions: sexual, bonding, children perhaps or monetary as a sex worker, all the satisfaction of employment doing perhaps a job she loves and is good at as a model. The direct look that knows exactly what you are about, and is OK with it.

The word maja is the feminine form of majo, a low class Spaniard of the 18th and 19th century. So her background is similar to mine, raised in poverty, deprived of money as a satisfaction, you learn to seek it in other ways. I have seen her look many many times, whether in models posing at art school, or lovers having fun on Saturday night.

On occasion I have seen it on narcissist girlfriends where I have been entrapped though lies, promises of love and empathy, just before they deny sex. Narcissist’s manipulate by withholding sex. As does religion of all flavours with similar lies and false promises.

Goya and I are romantics, outraged by the illiberal goings-on’s of the conservative institutions of our times. It is said that the leader of Spain was hauled before the Catholic Inquisition for simply owning this work, kept in a closet, discovered by his political opponents.

Similar contrived outrage, slanders and controversy are routinely carried out in my country (Canada) by the morons of the conservative party who claim Jesus as their savior, while attacking the Liberals who ensure folks have food and rent during a pandemic.

In the provincial backwater where I live in an oil boom/bust town, the ruling moron party refused to implement/enforce meeting/mask restrictions during a pandemic so it could profit its corporate donors, killing thousands as a direct result and overwhelming the hospital system with the survivors. Red Cross field hospitals, ironically the M.A.S.H. units invented in China for Mao, by Bethune a Canadian Liberal surgeon, were called in. I don’t know where the bodies were kept, stacked in truck trailer reefers I imagine, mass graves and cremation having a prior history of poor optics.

So in the midst of abuse and murder for profit of the lower classes that has always gone on by bullies with money and influence I find my satisfactions are a choice, that hope is a choice, a personal responsibility to say, what good can I make of this, as painful, uncomfortable as inconveniencing as it is. This is the ancient psychological insight of Epictetus, who said, “What disturbs men’s minds is not events but their judgments on events.”

I have often found help from Ellis with this.

So I return to the models gaze and see an adult taking control of her choices, an adult with adult responsibilities. I often wonder at the patriarchal tyrants who continue to this day, 200 years later, to lose their shit over a woman, making decisions about her body and her enjoyment of it.

My Cat Wrote a Book

The Good Works Of The Honourable Pierre Poilievre PC MP by Buddhy the Buddha Cat All opinions presented are those of the author who is unavailable for comment since he is having a nap

Dec 8, 2020

Due to a lack of evidence based research in this area, please use the remaining space of 150 blank pages for speculation.

Print book on Amazon

eBook on Google Books,

the artist and his muse:

The Frasers Buy a Slave and Other White Nonsense on ‘Outlander’

Fascists are everywhere, they are the real pandemic virus.

Jerald Blackstock

Dec 6, 2020

I saw this headline on blackgirlnerds.com the blog whose author isn’t listed so I can’t credit her.

I’m Canadian, I’m sorry, as we Canadians say.

I see Americans on their popular culture television shows depicting the U.S.A as a crime scene where black people can’t catch a break, Fargo season 4, by the brilliant Noah Hawley, for example.

That’s it, T.V. was my exposure to race issues. I lived in a white Scottish heritage world, extremely conservative and protestant where everyone hates anyone not like them. I mean I grew up in that, until the oil business run by Nazis who had moved to Texas from Germany came to town. Then it got worse.

Overnight my little 20 car cab company community, my transitional needs job as an artist, made up of musicians, actors and painters, became a 500 car mega business run by Yellow cabs owned by Laidlaw, a garbage company in trouble with the law in New Jersey.

The Americans had come to oil boom town Calgary.

Suddenly, and I mean overnight, we now had immigrants, and not from white eastern Europe anymore, but folks with turbans and beards to drive our cabs, whose English was fine but if they didn’t like you, they didn’t speak it so good.

The Judeo-Christian morality of the ten commandments was out the window as well. I was cab dispatching at Yellow, and one Sikh driver named Sonny Brahr (I checked the spelling on Google and got this: Sikhs have a given name and one or both of a surname and a Khalsa name. The surname may be a family name or a caste name. Different castes still exist...), whom I really liked for his brilliant sense of humour, moved in with his girlfriend in the basement of his cousin’s house, all very Canadian.

The family sent home for a gent with a machine gun who murdered all 3 at the neighborhood Mac’s store.

I was taking a cab shortly after and the driver’s response to the event disturbed me as much as the loss of my friend. He said it was a good thing because they had gone against the wishes of the family. It was like when I asked a CSR from India at work on a date, she said “no the family wouldn’t like it. Have you ever seen a white guy with a woman from my culture?”

I was rejected because of my skin colour and culture for the first time. Usually, rejection was due to financial status, because my father was a coal miner who had the poor judgement to inconvenience Cominco mines by dying of lung cancer and embarrassing them about the safety of their workplace, throwing the remaining family on welfare in the 50’s. These southern Asian folks have been dealing with the British imperialism of white entitlement for centuries, having built Usually, up cultural and racial purity safeguards as strict as the Brits themselves, actually long before the Brits showed up with their superior army/navy tech. It even today includes gents with machine guns. And as Google reminds us, the caste system.

I was getting a pandemic haircut from my Persian non-religious hair lady and her out of work electrical engineer husband also from Iran, who complained the manicurist, they are mostly Vietnamese, wouldn’t come to work they were all lazy and stayed home and collected CERB our free government allowance to allow folks to stay home and avoid the Corona. I suggested, like I did to our Conservative member of Parliament who made the same complaint about minimum wage workers, that perhaps if they were offered well paying safe work, they would be happy to succeed in meeting their financial goals and aspirations, by coming to small business jobs.

Nope, those folks from other skin colour cultures are all lazy for not being enslaved to a minimum wage job and dying during a pandemic.

Really, having employees to put down, or renters for your properties to abuse by ignoring, is a conservative status symbol, much like the Frasers bought a slave, or a Ford or similar objects.

CERB is a testing of the waters for Universal Basic Income, getting folks used to the freedom from the indentured servitude. Folks can go to school and get better paying work, or stay home and raise kids, or paint, compose and write to create a Canadian culture, you know, have greater choices for satisfaction than to be some penny-pinching Calvinist Scot’s status symbol slave. Or American or Sikh or Iranian or Brit. Fascists are everywhere, they are the real pandemic virus.

Disintegrating Brakes

Imaginary interview between Stampede Toyota dealership and some representative from the press about my car:

Jerald Blackstock

Nov 23, 2020

Here is my latest post about paying a car dealership to do work, and I think they didn’t do it. It’s based on a youtube by 2 of my fav Australian commentators on current events.

Imaginary interview between Stampede Toyota dealership and some representative from the press about my car:

This Toyota where the brakes disintegrated from 70% to 0% in 10,000 km is not typical, I’d like to make that clear.

How is it untypical?

Well there is a lot of Toyotas where the brakes don’t disintegrate at all. I don’t want people thinking Toyotas aren’t safe.

Was this Toyota safe?

Well I was thinking more about the other ones.

The ones that are safe?

Ya the ones where the brakes don’t disintegrate at all.

Well if this wasn’t safe why was it on the road with people in it?

I’m not saying it wasn’t safe it was not quite as safe as some of the other ones.


Well some of them are inspected and serviced so the brakes don’t disintegrate at all.

Well wasn’t this one inspected and serviced?

Obviously not.

How do you know?

Well because the brakes rusted then disintegrated, it’s a dead giveaway, I’d like to make the point that it is not normal.

Well what sort of standards are these Toyotas built to?

Oh very rigorous Canadian engineering safety standards.

What sort of things?

Well the brakes aren’t supposed to rust off and disintegrate for starters.

What other things?

Well there are regulations governing what sort of material they can be made of.

What materials?

Well cardboard is out. No cardboard derivatives, no string, no scotch tape.

So the allegations that you just take the money and don’t service the vehicles is ludicrous?

Absolutely these are very very reliable brakes on these vehicles.

So what happened in this case?

Well the brakes disintegrated in this case but its very unusual.

Well why did the brakes rust out and disintegrate?

Well they got wet.

They got wet?

Yes they got wet.

Is that unusual?

In Canada? Chance in a million.

Apologies to Carke and Dawe

Why I’m launching The Duchy of Jerald Bloggery

And what you can do to support it right now

Jerald Blackstock

Nov 23, 2020

‘another fucking dickpic’ various sizes Blackstock ‘17

Dear friends

As you know, three years ago I had a ‘cerebral accident’. A random piece of plaque, that we all have floating around our innards, lungs and livers and things as Huckleberry Finn so eloquently put it, decided through an arbitrary act of ‘misfortune’ aka randomness, to pop a vein in my brain and took out the motor function on my right side.

Since then I have been blogging about this so-called traumatic life changing event. Writing, video and photo have turned into 5 books and the next one is on the way. (books2read.com/jer)

Dr. Albert Ellis the foremost psychologist of the last century said in his book, The Myth of Self Esteem, if you lose your arm do everything you can to deal with it, then ignore it and focus on something more satisfying.

So. I find doing this incredibly satisfying.

I find your response to my dealing with life using fine art, humour, digital fuckery and frank discussion a very fine conversation.

If you’ve already subscribed, THANK YOU, I hope you find this work as satisfying and challenging to experience as it is for me to create it.

The newsletter is free, intended to replace WordPress, which I hate for its lack of creative and artistic expression.

I earn income as an traditional artist from editioned prints and the books that these posts become so this gives you a taste, try before you buy, I hate paywalls. If its on the internet its free.



The Moron Mafia


Nov 20, 2020

“Let go and let God.” - The Moron Mafia™



Nov 17, 2020

she wore pecker purple everything



Nov 17, 2020

I wonder if she’s pissed that she’s not in my book or that she is in my book,

She is not capable of emotional or physical intimacy, both require risk to build trust to be open a reasonable risk that is the spice of life.

Instead she plays her bdsm role over and over as I walked out the door.

The Voice of Experience


Nov 14, 2020

Sent a tweet off to our mayor today. After it snows, the rec centers are not plowed. The snow from the sidewalk is shoved into the handicapped parking, where the folks with walkers, canes and wheelchairs unload and are forced through the unplowed parking to the sidewalk, because the shortest route to the sidewalk is now blocked by the snow from the sidewalk.

At their peril.

Put-offs from CSR’s include

I hadn’t noticed (Thornhill)

It snowed (Killarny)

It keeps snowing (Thornhill)

It’s roads responsibility (Canyon Meadows)

Its arena staff responsibility (Thornhill)

I’ll make a note (Killarny)

I’ll let someone know (Canyon Meadows)

This is just a call centre (311)

Put-offs from the staff include

I’m not doing that (Killarny)

I’m a life guard (Killarny)

We come in a different entrance (Killarny)

Look at you funny (Canyon Meadows)

Stare at the screen (Thornhill)

Talk in soothing condescending tones as if to an upset child (Killarny)

Talk about the weather (Killarny)

I’ll speak to my staff (Killarny)

I’ll notify roads (311)

I’ll get some salt and gravel (Killarny)

The salt and gravel will damage the machines (Killarny)

This is the routine. Every time it snows. In Canada. In the winter.

This has been my experience for 3 years doing stroke recovery at the City’s gyms. I saw an elderly woman struggling with the snowy slippery access. I said, “Tell someone at the desk”. She said, “Oh they won’t do anything”. You know what? She’s right. The voice of experience.



Sep 23, 2020

50% of the time the coin lands heads

I don’t even have to hope

100% of the time I deal with it

We all have great skills at dealing with the unknown


A Sense of Connection


Sep 19, 2020

Connection. Just assume it. Whether it is with your cat, a friend or a dead lover. Some people use an imaginary god. That’s why predatory religions (all) and cults seek vulnerable folks in transition and loss, to offer a sense of missing connection, for profit. The priests have to get paid somehow.

Some people use drugs to recreate the hormonal feel good response of a sense of connection.

Death is therefore like a drug withdrawal. If you are an orphan without connection resources, you have to create it for yourself. Then you are free of any dependance. This is deprogramming that churches hate. Independance that comes with freedom of choice.

Just assume a connection, especially with yourself and bypass the woo woo ripoff, dependency and programming and keep your cash.


homage to cinema paradiso and its abandoned child



Sep 18, 2020



anxiety in

anxiety out

I don’t have to be vigilant hyperventilating

I highly prefer but I don’t have to is the key

I can’t have everything I want

The centre of the universe

Controlling shit

So I will be unafraid

what if what if what if ad nauseum

I have dealt with it

Well enough

For now...



Sep 17, 2020

Jerald trained formally as a painter at the Alberta College of Art and Design from 1992 to graduation in 1996 having three times achieved the President’s Honour Roll. He earned his BFA in 1998 from Alberta University of the Arts with a focus on digital art studies and a minor in creative writing. He holds a certificate in Adult Education from Mount Royal University. He taught for 10 years at AUArts, MRU, and long term care homes doing recreational therapy through art making.

Previously he studied drawing and painting privately under Gary Ripley at Grip Studios in Calgary, Alberta from 1972 till 1980 with a focus on the materials and techniques of the old masters.

His first career was as an addictions counsellor for Alberta Alcohol and Drug Abuse Commision where he was trained in REBT, Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy, developed by Dr. Albert Ellis the foremost psychologist of the last century.

Jerald’s publications draw heavily from the history and traditions of Western European fine art, street photo, digital fuckery and psychotherapy.

He currently lives in Calgary making art with his camera and computer, publishing his books under Blackstock Art&Design for The Duchy of Jerald.



purchase publications Google Books, Google Play, Apple Books, Smashwords, Amazon

Living in A Religious Conservative Society


Sep 12, 2020

My father, a coal miner in Alberta, Canada, died of lung cancer when I was 2, at age 40 in 1955. My mother raised 4 kids on welfare. Working class Albertans stood outside our house and yelled that we were living off them, living off the government hand out.

I once told Preston Manning that I was grateful to his hardhearted father Alberta Premier Ernest Manning, who preached Christianity every Sunday on the radio, for 20 something years in office, and his less than subsistence welfare policies for giving me deformed feet from a lack of proper footwear as I grew, and for making me a lifelong Liberal, who has long advocated for UBI.

Typical of folks with a less than secure income I learned to self medicate the corresponding anxiety with cigarettes, drugs and alcohol. By the time I was 40 I was a cab driver/contractor with a criminal record for drug possession, and lifelong anxiety and depression and a yoga cult survivor. I overcame these dependencies with free medical help from Healthcare, got a student loan and a couple of degrees and began teaching art on the contract model as well as practicing art therapy at long term care as a contractor.

This eventually led me into bankruptcy since being a consultant contractor is designed to benefit only the employer. When my wife died the income was reduced to my contractor income, I lost my house and my home based art studio and was left with only an old car. I used it to go driving courier, again as a contractor, and a second bankruptcy.

A few years later, owing 40,000 to predatory lenders and mechanics, for less than dependable vehicles to drive courier with I suffered a stroke was in hospital for almost a year and lost my home and car and cat, now considered a homeless single man with no income.

I turned 65 and qualified for essentially seniors UBI got myself a place and a vehicle and food every month to continue to do stroke recovery and practise my art, publishing 5 books since my release from hospital.

Would UBI have saved me from the underlying depression, anxiety, rage, embarrassment, shame, hurt, and jealousy from being at the mercy of religious conservative social policy when life throws its slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as it does to everyone? Of course not, it’s not psychotherapy.

It would allow me the security of living in a gig economy with guaranteed food and shelter, the ability to take time off to further education and perhaps get much needed psychotherapy. Alberta’s suicide rate is one of the highest in the country.

I have never had a vacation, or taken a trip, neither has any contract worker I know. I have never been able to afford to give a child the secure life I never had, so I didn’t have kids. Perhaps UBI might allow for that too...

A Figment Of My Imagination


Sep 2, 2020

I met a woman at a coffee shop, lovely chat, then a series of impromptu meeting chats, a trade of contact details, sent a request to get together for a future coffee-rant, then... nothing. No answer is an answer.

That woman appearing to be honest, open, unconditionally accepting didn’t exist.

I know that anyone I have met who has done a lot of yoga doesn’t unconditionally accept anything, particularly physically, they must, should, absolutely have to, be liked and accepted physically, or they see themselves as pieces of garbage. So what are the chances that they will have unconditional acceptance, without pity, of a guy recovering from a stroke? What are the chance they will unconditionally accept themselves?

What existed was someone who claimed to want to get together but really didn’t know how to say it wasn’t her cup of tea, or coffee as the case may be. Physical ‘perfection’ being a condition of the relationship deepening exercise, I imagine.

A woman recently said to me, Jerald, I don’t see you as handicapped at all, but she want to sell me new age woo woo products, seeking victims at the gym.

Some like to see themselves as good people, so they will condescend to chat with the handicapped, but really it is fascism, like a Hitlerian religion, good works must be done under strict conditions. I once joined a church and at Xmas time I asked several members if I could join them Xmas day, being a recent widower and a lifelong orphan, feeling vulnerable. Talk to strangers, asking for what you want being the assertive pillars of taking responsibility for getting needs met. All refused, including the minister. Travelling, was the usual put off of statistical improbability.

I absolutely must perform well and win the love or approval of significant others or else I am an inadequate and worthless person.

Is there any evidence that I am inadequate and worthless?

No, there is no evidence at all. Other peoples likes and dislikes only describe them.

I feel disappointed sad and annoyed, the consequences of being lied to. I will continue to talk to strangers and ask for what I want, rejection is part of life and becomes less painful the more I face it.

Narcissist Blues


Aug 10, 2020

the look when you find out your husband is fucking your best friend

My First Book Arrived


Aug 6, 2020

Arrived: my first print copy of my first book. When I had a stroke and ‘lost everything’ therapists said I needed recreational help, enrolled me at the seniors place to play shuffle board. There they asked me what I enjoyed and didn’t like my answer: lesbian porn. well, affection really, but I was kinda bitchy for a few years and I view seniors recreation programs as babysitting waiting for slow demise.

Anyway, I digress, again, I enrolled myself at the gym, hired a kinesiologist, took driving lessons, learned to drive with my left hand and foot, bought a car, learned left handed typing and photo, and adobe creative suite. 3 years and 5 books later, what good can I make of this has become the focus of my creative juices.

It is I believe the central question of all creative activity, all therapy, all life, since life is random as fuck and there is no predicting. joy/tragedy, hope/loss are the same goddamn thing, they come when they come but for sure they are coming, and we deal with both sides of the coin with great skill.

There is no purpose to life so I had better get off my ass and create some satisfaction. deal with my losses as best I can, then ignore them, forget my goddamn awful past as well, and focus on something more satisfying. If it is to be it is up to me.

Anyway my first printed copy of my first book arrived!

here is how it all works


google books

Ships Within


Aug 4, 2020

ships within




blown about

by the wind


the mind

I must have...


Jul 30, 2020

I am dealing with it

I have been dealing with it

So I will deal with it

Based on evidence

Putting up with discomfort is dealing with it

Being assertive and requesting change is dealing with it

Rejecting is dealing with it

Discomfort anxiety is a result of saying I can’t deal with it

a lie

a lie

a lie

3 times a lie

There is no evidence that I must...anything

Friday June 19, 2020


Jun 19, 2020

Another art book published yesterday. You can see them for free here or buy them at Apple iBooks, Google Books, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, ask your library to stock them as they are in their catalogues. Available worldwide, and people say, why don’t you show in a gallery? Because it’s 2020 ffs.

The Unpardonable Sin


Jun 18, 2020

The unpardonable sin. The everlasting wrong. Sobbing and sobbing, never to be consoled. - Patrick O’Brian, The Fortunes of War.

With these words I was reminded of ‘relationship’ with narcissists I’d known and chosen to trust.

And the consequences.

When it got to the part, as it eventually does, of asking for what you want, in relationship, I was no longer being ‘nice’.

I had been chosen for being a ‘nice guy’. One who does not have needs expressed, making the narcissist uncomfortable, for they have nothing to offer.

I mean they were out the door as soon as they were bored anyway, I just never saw it coming. But like the blue water sailor approaching a continent, I felt the loom of the land, something of a lee shore, imminent disaster, the narcissist loves chaos.

So after months and even years of this anxiety it finally happens, they fuck off with their new beau accusing you of some everlasting wrong, smearing you to all your friends, poisoning relationships left and right.

What good can I make of this?

Clothing Optional Rant Eulogy


May 17, 2020

About Cliff on CBC Went to the mountains today after hearing that Cliff had passed stopped at Deadman’s Flats, ironically, and listened to Bob Dylan sing she’s never gone as long as she’s inside you So this sense of connection is a choice

Choose a sense of connection

Dr.David Burns said fighting is an intimate connection and a choice to connect with resentment so choose to be connected choose to be not connected

They don’t have to be in the same room to enjoy this feeling this sense of connection or even on the same planet or even in the same time period I feel very connected to my favourite writer long passed away to read his words is to read his mind To see Cliff’s artwork is to see and feel him what he valued and loved and connected to

Some connections, like with Cliff, I value extremely and will always be with me

A Real Treasure


May 15, 2020

I posted things like this on dating sites, hoping to meet someone with a sense of humour. About me: Art degree with a major in gynecology. I’m not a doctor but I’m willing to have a look. About you: You have sufficient musicality to be able to hum the William Tell overture complete with cannon. You can view this handy instruction video here


It didn’t work too well for dating but I had fun which come to think of it, is why I wanted to date. Win/win.

2. I really like Coen brothers movie The Big Labowski. Reminds me of growing up in redneck Calgary with an equally bizarre underground drug culture of stoned weirdo’s. I see that they were all aspiring to be Scots:


3. I recently changed my genes and their expression of diabetes and heart disease in 3 months by reading this guys book and doing what he suggested. After an ultrasound and a thallium stress test the cardiologist said I went from a candidate for a heart attack to having the blood pressure of a fit 35 year old. My blood sugar is now normal. CHANGING LIFESTYLE CHANGES GENE EXPRESSION A Talk with Dean Ornish. The science is better explained here though: Sugar the Bitter Truth.

14. I’m an ordained minister. At least I think I am. After spending 10 bucks on the Internet they sent me this handy email, so it must be true: Congratulations, You are now a legally ordained minister at the First Church of Atheism!

5. I’m an initiated yogi. Hang around Ashrams long enough and someone will eventually initiate you. I’m not sure what it means but at least they didn’t ask me for the deed to my house. I gave all that up for REBT. See#7

6. I am an INFJ in the Myers Briggs personality type system. Rarest of all types I relate to 1 person in 200. So I’m on the outside observing. Same type as Gandhi, Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King. Oh yes and God help me Shirley McLean as well. I hope I’m not channeling an ancient Egyptian cause that would be like weird. Find out your type here.

7. My Dad died when I was 2 from lung cancer, he was a coal miner. I grew up in a state of anxiety in poverty and abuse. I medicated the effects of that with sugar, then nicotine, and then pot and dropped all that for yoga/religion. Finally I found Albert Ellis, the foremost psychotherapist of the last century, read a couple of his books and dropped all that other stuff entirely.

8. When I was 40, after a brief career as an addictions counselor, and a longer career in transportation logistics, I went to art school. For 6 years. A process where every 3 months your work is put before the foremost artists in the land, and they decide if you get another 3 months of school. This process I engaged and did well at, 3 times on the President’s honour role, earned 2 degrees, while watching it tire and burn out 18 year olds. Only 100 graduated of 800 entry submissions. Then I taught there for 10 years, specializing in Adult Education.

The Duchy of Jerald

9. During Art School I was married to a woman who developed a terminal degenerative brain disease (Huntingtons) that affected her personality and emotions negatively and was very difficult on relationship, to put it mildly. We finished up at the same time as I lost my brother as well as my best oldest friend, both to cancer. I lost relationship, my house, studio and my business and family. I was 50 and I started over. What choice do you have? A social worker recently said to me, Jerald you must have been devastated. Is that what you call that? Oh. Now I know.

10. I have taught painting and drawing in the faculty of extension (adult education), having earned an adult education certificate, at local Art Collages and University.

11. I have practiced art as therapy, (using the creative model) in long term care institutions, with people with incurable illness, as they degenerate into slow demise.

12. I learned Photoshop and the internet at art school and eventually spent a few years making a decent living producing images for internet advertising, until the customers left for India and their attractive economy. I would go back to this if I found the right gig. Selling crap to Americans using fear I find to be morally reprehensible, generally speaking. Besides, design isn’t art as I understand it and I prefer to practice my art. Perhaps in the right gig……

13. I have resolved this: If a person I care about doesn’t return my love, I can seek out others who will love me. I could devote more time to my hobbies and other enjoyable pursuits. I can teach myself to enjoy life without a lover. Then if (and when) I do find a lover, I can be doubly happy. I can practice unconditional self acceptance and accept myself with or without a lover.

14. I used to irrationally believe in astrology. I can’t explain what pleased me about it or why I found it to make sense but it just did (confirmation bias). As a Virgo I find this a very strange belief. Must be my Pisces rising and Cancer moon having an effect.

15. Picasso and I are both born in the year of the Snake in Chinese astrology. When I read his quotes I find myself satisfied and vindicated as an artist. Such as: Success is dangerous. One begins to copy oneself, and to copy oneself is more dangerous than to copy others. It leads to sterility. Also: The people who make art their business are mostly impostors.

16. Cameras for me are a delight, as they handle the details, as do computers. I am vaguely interested in the settings of the machines, but mostly revel in the happy accidents of the technology of art, whether it is the chemistry of paint or the code of a flash presentation. To me, it’s all ways to intuitively express my feelings in depth, and it’s impossible to predict the outcome. Don’t ask me how I did something in Photoshop or Painter, I really don’t know. I just push buttons until I get happy then quit.

17. Beth, my former lover, died when we were 17 or so. of a brain tumor. She said to me, “I’m going to die aren’t I”? It was the hardest question I ever had to answer.

18. Glenda Ferster, my former lover, died when she was about 21. She was killed by her taxi passenger, an inmate of a mental institution on leave, while she was driving cab. He raped her and left her body in the bush near Exshaw Alberta. It was the hardest funeral I ever had to attend. The search for her had been called off but the cab drivers didn’t quit. We kept going till we found her. http://www.taxi-library.org/canada/ferster-g.htm

19.The movie Good Will Hunting makes a lot of sense to me. I also was a (virtual) orphan, who was adopted by working class trade folks (transportation) who went on to higher education and career after receiving counseling.

20. I love to drive. I once worked at a bus company training their drivers. Driving heavy equipment pleases me.

21. My Taylor guitar makes the most beautiful sounds. I love everything about it, the smell the feel of my fingers on the strings. It can be loud. I call it my banjo-killer.

22. I studied voice (opera) for a year. My teacher Maudi said, “you really can’t sing can you ? All right then!

23. I got busted for a joint when I was a kid. I got a hundred dollar fine. Still can’t get into the States or work for the City due to my record. I find I don’t miss either experience.

24. I love Patrick O’Brian’s Master and Commander series of books. Read all 20. 6 times. You are the nutmeg of consolation, the rose of desire and the very flower of consideration. Ahhhhhhhhh bliss. I highly prefer character development to procedural. He is the master.

25. This is what I have come to believe from all of that:

A Real Treasure

There is only one of me.

I am a unique individual, one of a kind.

Therefore I have value,Whether I am young

Or old

Fat or thin

Tall or short

I accept myself as a unique work of art

Vastly interesting


Endlessly changing


Of limitless possibilities (I think of Steven Hawking, wheelchair bound, immobile, scientist, professor, husband and father if I happen to contemplate my `inability’ to create satisfaction in my life)


I am always in this process of change


I cannot be a finished perfect`Anything’ (Insert label here [if you must])

This imperfection (by definition) has no bearing whatsoever

On my `value’ or `worth’

I have value or worth because I am a unique one of a kind piece of very fine constantly evolving art that has perhaps not existed before and perhaps may not again

And in my mind, so are you.

So I take pleasure in you, simply because I want it,

A real Treasure.

Blackstock ‘07

Predator and Prey


May 5, 2020

OK. How did it happen?

She approached me an the gym

I was sought out

Slightly handicapped

Seduced, flirted and flattered.

Chatted me up for an hour.

Walked away with my contract for training

Specialized in stroke recovery

With a side of implied romance

Oh you have made my day love bombing

Undervalued and Dumped

Didn’t respond to an email

Cancelled last minute

Our first session

Another client took it more priority

Grooming with guilt and obligation to accept

Manipulation with nice

traditional plague plagiary


Apr 7, 2020



Apr 7, 2020

what is it?

I was raised by conservative narcissists

all narcissists are liars

I am afraid

I don’t trust anybody

blind trust

is no trust

blinded by the charm

to create trust

The Problem

I must do well and win the approval of others or else I am no good. I can’t trust their approval or their evaluation of do well Other people must do “the right thing” or else they are no good and deserve to be punished.  I can’t trust them to do the right thing. Life must be easy, without discomfort or inconvenience I can’t trust life The Way Out  Is there any evidence that I am no good? The only evidence I can find is that their likes and dislikes only describe them, this I can trust. Where is it written that others must? Just because I prefer it, does that mean I must have it? It’s a pain, but it’s not awful Accept Accept Accept The purpose of life is satisfaction What good can I make of this?        



Mar 28, 2020

So. This is my anniversary. 20 years since smoking cessation 32 since habitual pot/booze was a factor in my life I was very anxious The people that I had counted on to nurture and protect me Abandoned me as a child Then they attacked me Guilt, as it was all my fault, I was groomed to believe I was responsible for the attack I had asked people who had nothing to give For what I wanted. They hate that They abandon and attack Then smear Overvalue Undervalue Dump Smear

This was my Mom, and siblings My Dad died of lung cancer and left me in the care of a narcissist Mom Who abdicated her responsibilities and left me to my animal siblings Narcissists in training, nothing to give, abandonment & attacking Grooming me to care for her My only way to gain affection, as a reward. Codependent in training Groomed with Fear Obligation Guilt

So I learned not to ask for what I want to fear the guilt-attack consequence Asking will get you abandoned, dumped Raging at the world for not anticipating my needs My needs are not a priority anyway I knew So I never asked again All or Nothing became my life Anxious to please to not get attacked and dumped

By age 12 I was a pack a day man. Roll your owns, the only skill my mother taught me. Because it was cheaper for her. I had taught myself to tie my own shoes And to read When I ran from the bullies into the library They knew I wouldn’t fight back No one taught me to fight back That it was OK to defend myself To hurt others As the slaves hurt the slave owners By being free

I taught myself logistics of planning escape routes From stupid violent people at age 6 who hunted me I became the best dispatcher in the city Fleets of 400 vehicles to manage for 20 years The stupid people drove the cars I the codependent took care of them

Holding my anger down with cigarettes and pot Living in a drug induced haze And anxiety Is today the day I will get fired? A self fulfilling prophecy.

So I went to my love Art School There I learned that the designers are codependent and please others The Artists please themselves

As I started to ask for what I want, my wife threw me out Narcissists manipulate by withholding sex Almost impossible to tell till you are in it The are overvalue-love-bombing and very convincing liars I sought therapy Assertiveness training Cognitive rational therapy REBT I deprogrammed me from over anxiety and rage Yoga and religion down the drain too No longer sucking my resources With nothing to give back Guilt-attacked for asking

I find that asking for what I want is still scary There is a tension that exists before the relationship Gets better Or ends Sometimes a risk is fun too Being alone has the joys of solitude So nothing to lose in the asking, reasonably

Sometimes at the gym I try to make friends When I go I do stroke recovery these days So many gym rats have nothing to offer They see me as a gimp a crip a drain on their resources The Yoga people are actively hostile They are there to Look Good In Bed Pissed that I ask for friendship in a coffee a chat Whats your email I’ll get back to you As sincere in their fake empathy as a used car salesman with his prospect No proof in that pudding

Either way Problem solved I know where I stand No longer in over anxiety Sucking chemicals to feel better Like my Dad who was abandoned and attacked by his Awful angeraholic Scottish father and codependent Irish mother They sent 6 of their kids to live at the Salvation Army Their needs being an inconvenience Dad killed his lungs with chemicals to the point of cancer at age 40 Self harming To feel better From the incest-like abuse Of being attacked by the one you are supposed to trust To care for you

So this is the anniversary of my self care initiation Happy Birthday to me!

Heartbreak Alley


Mar 23, 2020

Heart broken

I am broken

I didn’t do relationship right


Because she left


It’s all my fault

That she didn’t keep her promise

That she wasn’t loyal

That I am broken


She didn’t keep her promise

Because she is not sincere

She left because

I asked for what I want

To Deepen Relationship

She Had Nothing to Offer

She Didn’t Keep Her Promise

Of Love

Because She Is A Liar

She Slept With Another

Because She Is Bored

She Craves Chaos


I am not Broken

Disappointed yes

Even Devastated

But Not Broken

Overvalue, Undervalue, Dump, Smear


Mar 21, 2020

From my family, particularly my Mother, to my siblings, acquaintances, through my spiritual search for connection that I didn’t receive at home, (my father died of a lung cancer he found in a coal mine); to co-workers and colleagues, my search for family and connection utopia brought only more pain that I was seeking to relieve.

I didn’t mention marriage in that list, for even though I went through the ceremony, there wasn’t even an attempt to sustain relationship from the partner who chose me and suggested the rites.

I was sought out, a victim of the hunt, of a predator, really a series of predators, searching for their utopia of never being bored. Hurt and vulnerable, intelligent, artistic and good looking I was the prime target, then the competitor to be killed, the person to be blamed for their mental health issues when it turned out that what I wanted was a boring old sane stable relationship where healthy people assert their rights and ask for what they want to deepen relationship. This, as it turns out, is the garlic repelling the vampire, they leave a trail of smear going out the door. Rinse repeat.

The problem with the list of my ‘crimes’ was that I believed them. I believed in belief. They had to leave, it was all my fault. I had asked for what I wanted, the cardinal sin. Since they had nothing to give, they left, blaming me.

The healing for the pain: Is there any evidence for the belief? This is the prime deprogramming question whether it is from being convinced of original sin in western Christianity, reincarnation because you are a loser in the Dali Lama’s Tibetan Buddhism, or my ‘wife’ who is controlling by withholding sex, similar to advanced yoga at the Ashram, by saying it is my fault due to poor technique because I asked for what I want.

Assertiveness training saved me. How to ask for what you want from people who scare you. I had a lot of scare. It turns out over-anxiety is a consequence of the belief that I can’t handle life and I must be liked. Evidence based psychology sustains me. Where is the evidence that I can’t handle life, and I must be liked? There never is any as here I am alive and capable of creating some form of satisfaction for myself. Based on pretty obvious evidence.

Where is your family? was often asked of me at the hospital during my 6 month stay doing stroke rehab. Why I’m right here, I would reply. Most thought I was brain damaged from the stoke I’m sure.

Any time I’ve been in trouble, those who were merely acquaintances, as it suddenly turned out, that I saw as close, similar to a family feeling of loyalty, fucked off.

Well we are not available to spend a week visiting was the put off from Rob and Rose, when I asked to crash at their house in Victoria. Not that I asked for that level of creepy closeness, I asked to be alone with the ocean after being dumped by a devastating narcissist. They had on 3 occasions come to live with me during the housing shortages when Rob returned to school. He went on to marry his daughter emotionally, started a business with her, his wife denying him by being sunk in depression. The kid becomes the wife, taking care of Dad’s emotional needs for partnership (at least), typically conservative (he’s an RCMP cop) by making relationship a business deal. A very competitive family, running a karate school cult, anxious and hostile with the wife and and daughter competing for Dad. Incest by any other name smells like shit.

The devastation and the damage, comes from believing that these losses are all my fault, that I asked for what I wanted, making them leave.

Recently Theresa a former girlfriend I had stayed in touch with on FB now living in Little Rock Arkansas took a trip back to visit family, and asked to visit me. A visit she found boring based on her lack of enthusiasm as she was doing a social chore. When I asked to deepen the connection by communicating on social media, she refused saying it felt like emotional infidelity. Nothing to offer, she left, smearing, going out the door. Blaming.

Rinse repeat.

I have been supposedly socially isolated for a couple of years now doing stroke recovery, but not really. I am grateful for social media, my social skills, and for my own company.

How to make L. reuteri yogurt: A step-by-step guide


Mar 20, 2020

By Dr. Davis | July 27, 2019

Making yogurt out of Lactobacillus reuteri is really a simple, straightforward process that I have been talking about for the past year. But some people get tripped up on the details, lamenting the thin, sour, or discolored end-result they obtain.

So here is the simple recipe, step-by-step to minimize your potential for making mistakes. Truly: I have made something like 60-70 batches with not a single failure. You can do this, too.

Why do this? Well, if you are new to this conversation, you will be excited to know that the yogurt is really not about yogurt, as conventional yogurts achieve none of these effects. This “yogurt” fermented with two unconventional strains of Lactobacillus reuteri achieve effects that include:

Smoothing of skin wrinkles due to an explosion of dermal collagen

Accelerated healing, cutting healing time in almost half

Reduced appetite, the so-called “anorexigenic” effect—food still tastes good, but you are almost completely indifferent to temptation

Increased testosterone in men

Increased libido

Preservation of bone density—Obtaining L. reuteri is one of the most important steps you can take to prevent osteoporosis

Deeper sleep—though this benefit is enjoyed by less than 20% of people

Increased empathy and desire for connectedness with other people

Probiotic effects that may include prevention of small intestinal bacterial overgrowth, SIBO

The majority of benefits are a result of L. reuteri‘s ability to provoke hypothalamic release of oxytocin, a hormone that is proving to be the key to substantial age-reversal and health effects.

You will need:

–Glass or ceramic bowl or other vessel large enough to hold at least one quart of liquid –2 tablespoons of prebiotic fiber such as inulin or raw potato starch –Starter: Either 10 tablets BioGaia Gastrus or 2 tablespoons previous batch of L. reuteri yogurt (whey or curds or mixture of both) –1 quart of half-and-half or other liquid (to make with coconut milk, several additional steps and ingredients are required) –Some method of maintaining at 100 degrees F

Yields: Around 8 one-half-cup servings

Make sure your bowl or other vessel is clean after washing with hot soap and water:

Add 2 level tablespoons of prebiotic fiber:

Add 10 crushed tablets of Gastrus (that provide 200 million CFUs of L. reuteri, a relatively small number). Crush the tablets with a mortar and pestle or by putting into a plastic bag and crushing with a rolling pin or heavy bottle/glass until reduced to a coarse powder. (The tablets are flavored with mint and mandarin, but the taste does not show in the final product, nor in subsequent batches.) Once you have made your first batch, make subsequent batches with two tablespoons of the prior batch, rather than crushed tablets; it can be any mixture of whey or solid curds, as both contain L. reuteri.

Mix either crushed tablets or 2 tablespoons prior yogurt with prebiotic fiber:

Add a little, e.g., 2 tablespoons, of your choice of dairy; I used organic half-and-half, as this yields the best texture (and, of course, we NEVER limit fat in the Wheat Belly lifestyle). Make a slurry by stirring; this prevents clumping of the prebiotic fiber. (Whole milk—NEVER low- or non-fat—yields a thinner end result, while cream yields something close to butter, too thick for my taste.)

Stir in remainder of half-and-half or other liquid:

Cover lightly with plastic wrap or other means. Ferment by maintaining at 100 degrees F for 36 hours. Prolonged fermentation—far longer than the 6 or so hours of commercial yogurts that explain why the bacterial counts are so low–in the presence of prebiotic fibers yields far higher bacterial counts in the tens to hundreds of billions per serving.

I used a basin-type sous vide device, but you can use a stick sous vide, yogurt maker with adjustable temperature control, or Instant Pot. (Just be careful with the Instant Pot or yogurt makers without adjustable temperature, as they are set to be compatible with conventional yogurt microorganisms and are often too hot and kill L. reuteri; if your device heats to 110 degrees F or higher, it will likely kill L. reuteri and you should find an alternative means of heating. If in doubt, turn on your device and measure the temperature reached with a thermometer first before you ruin a batch.) Keep your materials out of the way of fans, heating/cooling vents, or other sources of air contamination.

The end-result for me is rich, thick, and delicious, better tasting—and with far higher probiotic bacterial counts—than anything you can buy in a store. Once refrigerated, the “yogurt” is so thick that it can stand upright on a plate:

Serve with fresh or frozen berries, grainless granola, squirt of liquid stevia, or your choice of fruit or natural sweetener.

Political correctness: how the right invented a phantom enemy


Mar 7, 2020

Political correctness: how the right invented a phantom enemy


One Day


Mar 6, 2020

and suddenly you wake up

and the world is no longer


for you

you are


left handed


one legged


one armed


the ambulance driver is an ultra conservative jock jerk

sit down before you fall on someone !

as you try to say you need the washroom



your mouth no longer works


you can no longer swallow

with force of will

over 6 months

in hospital

you climb out of bed

you climb out of the wheelchair

two years goes by

you discard the walker

50% you don’t use the cane

every other day

you are in the gym

you live in a province of fascists

who hate you

you use their taxes

to live on

you are disorderly

without order

‘special’ needs

you aren’t special

as you compete ‘unfairly’ for the sympathy

that they ‘deserve’ for their plight

their world is unfair

Hard Luck Rivalry

behind the eugenics

Hitler sent you to the camps

cutting costs

they bump you on the stairs at the gym


as you struggle down

unable to get out of their way

like hockey bully enforcers

on the hard ice

of no social skills




or else they force their

Virtue Signaling

standing at the top of the stairs

holding the door open

showing their physical superiority


standing in the doorway

so you can’t get past

a no win situation

smell their armpit

or suffer their displeasure

and risk their complaint but

not realizing they are on camera

‘both of us won’t fit in that door’

‘I’m holding it open for you’

‘both of us won’t fit in that door’

fine then and

stomps off like an angry 4 year old

as narcissist coward predators hunt victims that can’t fight back

this is the new normal



Mar 4, 2020

the advantage to being atheist

is in having a set of morals


I have the right to hurt people

by setting boundaries

the slaves hurt the slave owners

by being free

not being manipulated with broken promises

is the icing on that particular cake

Who Says


Mar 4, 2020

who says

the hook

doesn’t hurt

the fish

She Said


Mar 3, 2020

she said she would contact me for coffee

she didn’t

people have a right to change their minds


people have a right to be liars and con-artists

it stings

devastation is a choice

liars lie because they are liars so they should lie

based on evidence

no response is a response



Mar 3, 2020

I prefer the words that reveal

the asking

for what you want

from a stranger

the best writers create the best images


Mar 1, 2020

copyright Blackstock Art&Design all rights reserved

they can ban breasts vaginas and denigrate the beauty that is woman

the words that create the images in the mind

create 3 dimensional holograms more beautiful than anything the brush or camera can begin to attempt

the best writers create the best images

another nazi buys into social media seeking to influence free speech

previously I deleted tumblr facebook and insta when that occurred

now I rejoin them with an ad blocker to deny them revenue

and a liberal social agenda

to advertise my work at their cost

the creatures

No comments:

Post a Comment

  Tory Times are Tough Times Cruel, paranoid, and failing Jerald Blackstock May 15 Edit post Pin on home page Exclude from Top "Hard Ti...