First of all: forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It has been a very long time since my last post, and in that time I have done many post-worthy things which I should have apprised you of for your enjoyment.
For that I humbly repent.
However, I am back with another salacious update for your mental palate.
This past week I met a doppelgänger (I say “a,” because I believe I may have multiple doppelgängers and actually be a character in some kind of Philip K. Dick novella come-to-life). The point is, I met a fellow Paul Pablo Paulo.
Even though he appeared to be in his late 60s with whisps of golden hair and fluent Portuguese, he is also a member of those who are called Paul Pablo Paulo.
I met him in Gravatal, a city about an hour and a half northeast of us here in the Praia do Rosa region of Santa Catarina.
A church near Braço do Norte, SC
As you can see from the above picture of me and my canine daughter Sury, it was very hot today.
Anyway, in Gravatal there are hot springs and my best friend, roommate and co-conspirator Joice and I spent time at the hotel and looking around the town. There were also thermal baths there which were nice, fed in by the hot springs.
So, while loitering by the pool this man came over and started talking to us. He said he’d been in the Brazilian military for decades, but one traumatic incident stuck with him in particular. This was when he’d been at a pool and a young girl of about nine walking by the edge of the pool had suddenly collapsed.
She was having a seizure of some kind and fell into the pool, choking violently on the water. People shouted and he dove in, lifting her out of the pool just in time. She was rushed to the hospital and just barely survived, with the doctor saying that just a bit more water and that would have been it.
This man, who said he’s now retired, was at the hotel with his family. He said he always thinks of that happening when he’s around pools.
He timed Joice and I in a race (I won one, she won one…or two). He also helped grab our ball in our game of pool dodgeball when it went astray.
The man lived near Uruguay and had a lot of friends who were from other countries due to his military career, including Spanish-speakers and English-speaking Americans.
For that reason, he goes by Paul, Pablo and Paulo.
I was flabbergasted. A fellow PPP. Here in the south of Brazil.
Joice, the Wolf at the Wolf bar and restaurant.
Purple Paul.
PS Canada has the Trudeau blues
The trucker protests that have disrupted Ottawa are amazing. I love it. I also love Trudeau, he is hilarious and his globalist dictator-like show is both sad and funny. I hope grandpa Schwab is proud!
I was so sorry to hear he came down with COVID-19 right at the time he was publicly humiliated by his own working class: what a coincidence!
Now the #CowardoftheCottage has to take some time out at a secret location in case an angry trucker honks too loudly while his wife Sophie is doing yoga or something.
Namaste!
Having a trucker protest is actually brilliant because the globalists have not yet replaced the working class fully and they have also underestimated people. They strategize about their populations as chess pieces but don’t realize or care that these are real people with brains.
They know they’re being lied to, they know they’re being replaced, and they know their leader is a fake loony tune. Now they’re putting a kink in the supply chain while they still can, and who knows, it might even have some real-world impact on the Great Reset agenda.
Well, that’s about it…
Until next week (I promise).
Take care, readers.