In 1991 eight people were sealed inside three acres of glass in the Arizona desert to prove that a carefully designed farm could feed humans without the outside world, and the design had almost no room in it for animals. Two years later the only thing inside that had reliably fed them was a handful of goats. Biosphere 2 cost a hundred and fifty million dollars. A rainforest, an ocean, a savannah and a farm under one roof, with the door welded shut for two years and nothing allowed in or out. The farm was the heart of it, and the farm was built on the modern idea: crops first, grown intensively, with livestock as an afterthought at the edges. A few African pygmy goats for milk, a flock of chickens, and four small feral pigs chosen because they could live on scraps. The pigs did not last the year. In a sealed box short of calories a pig is a competitor, and the crew killed and ate them. The chickens barely laid, because the glass cut the light and there was nothing to feed them that would make an egg. That left the goats, and for two years the goats were the only source of fat in a world designed around vegetables. The accounts the crew wrote afterwards return to them again and again. The half glass of milk a day was the thing people lived for. When a kid was born it was eaten and the meal was written up like a feast. The men lost nearly a fifth of their body weight, the women a tenth, and the food they dreamed of was never the sweet potatoes they had in abundance. It was the animal they had been given too few of. The plants were also taking the air. To make the crops grow the soil had been enriched with compost, and the microbes in that soil breathed oxygen faster than anyone had calculated. The level fell from twenty-one per cent to fourteen, the air of a high mountain, until the crew could not climb a staircase without resting and oxygen had to be trucked in from outside. The design that put plants first had removed the thing everyone needed most. Nobody has ever run the experiment the other way, with a herd at the centre and the crops at the edge. It would not have needed a doctor to explain the results. They were given three acres and told to feed themselves on plants. They ate the pigs, worshipped the goats, and suffocated.

Well well well! 😅 I thought I’d heard of everything??? this guy Victor Truviono claims he hasn’t eaten anything for 7 years 🫠 Calls himself a ‘Breatharian’ he’s grown 3 sets of teeth and healed his spine! When I saw the words “Fruitarian Paradise” I thought this is a joke lol 😂 watch his full story of YouTube 😅

The wool obsession starts with one sniff of a shirt, and here is the slide. Week 1: "Why does this shirt smell after one wear." Week 2: "It's polyester. It says so. Why is my shirt made of a bottle." Week 3: "Fine, one merino base layer. Just for the walks." Week 5: "Four days. Four days in it and nothing. I'm going to need another." Week 7: "Every jumper in the house is acrylic. When did that happen." Week 9: "Why does the moth want the jumper and not the fleece. Because the jumper's food and the fleece is plastic." Week 11: "A fleece sells for less than a pint. Less than the shearing. That cannot be right." Week 13: "Been to a mill. There's a man there who's been doing it fifty years and he nearly cried that someone asked." Week 16: "Bought a blanket at a car boot. Hundred years old. Still warmer than anything I own." Week 19: "The duvet's gone. Wool one. Sleep like a stone. Wife has stopped arguing." Week 23: "Got the lanolin smell in the car now. Not sorry." Week 27: "Started saying microplastics at parties. People have begun to leave slightly early." Week 31: "Went to Welshpool for the market. Only to look." Week 35: "She's called Olwen. She's a Welsh Mountain. She came with a friend." Week 40: "Shearer's booked for Tuesday. I'm keeping the fleece." Nobody tells you the first merino shirt is a gateway. You find out at the sheep sale.

4 1/2 years of being Alcohol Free!!! Today!!! The best feeling ever!!! I am so proud that I managed to stop drinking. It’s something I thought was beyond me. Its power over me would be too strong for me to stop! It started off with me casually saying I’m having a week off. It wasn’t too bad, so I did another week! That was awful. The withdrawal symptoms started kicking in, and my brain was like a dementor; “Just have one glass of wine It’s not going to hurt you” “Mmmm, a crisp, chilled glass of Chablis, it’s sooooo delicious, you know you really want some” I also went out of my way to be accountable! I set up a drink awareness app, and I marked in it daily. Before long I’d done a month. I was so proud! And would tell everyone and anyone. That’s when it became weird! People didn’t like it! I was constantly being questioned! You see, Drinkers don’t trust non drinkers! And I know this for a fact! The invitations dried up or seemed reluctant. When I did go out, people surrounded me with questions, then would not talk. I apparently wasn’t ‘fun’ anymore??? So I usually left by myself without saying goodbye! After experiencing that a few times, I thought, ‘fuck em!’ I don’t need this blatant ignorance, from people who have obvious drink issues themselves. I always said NO after that! They weren’t real friends anyway! For me, it was a fair few months for the habit of drinking to disappear. I drank non alcoholic substitutions for a while, but I stopped those completely in January 2024 (upon going Carnivore). They are loaded with sugars, which thankfully I wasn’t addicted to!! All in all, I FEEL FANTASTIC and wouldn’t change it for anything or anyone. This is an accountability post! 4 1/2 YEARS! I’m proud of myself! And I love it! #sober #soberlife #soberliving #superwoman #superhero #carnivore #alcoholfree #winning #winningmindset #amazing

Bamboo sheets are sold as the gentle alternative to cotton and silk, and the fabric they are made of is the one that put factory workers in asylums. Bamboo cloth is not bamboo. It is viscose. The plant is pulped, dissolved in caustic soda and carbon disulphide, and squirted through a nozzle into acid, where it sets into a thread. It was patented in England in 1892 as artificial silk, and the trade name for it was rayon. The same process makes a kitchen sponge and the cellophane on a bunch of flowers. Carbon disulphide was already notorious. French doctors in the 1850s had watched it send rubber workers blind, impotent and insane. The viscose industry needed it in enormous quantities and nothing else would do. So from the 1920s the asylums began to fill. In 1933 a doctor at a Pennsylvania rayon plant wired Alice Hamilton, the first woman on the Harvard faculty and the country's authority on industrial poisons, with a 6-word message: an epidemic of insanity has broken out. Workers were going home and attacking their wives. Men in the churn rooms were found wandering the roads. Investigators who got inside found a third of the workforce showing signs of poisoning. The companies fixed prices, sat on the evidence, and when the regulators finally came for them in the West they moved the factories to India, China and Indonesia, where the same chemical is used today. The consumer was never harmed. Only the people who made the cloth. Silk is made by a caterpillar in a mulberry tree. Wool is made by a sheep in a field. Both are a protein, same as your own hair, and both have been pulled off the animal for 5,000 years without sending anybody out of his mind. The fake silk needed a chemical that could not be made safe, and the industry's answer was to make it somewhere else.

Since the undersecretary replied on the mRNA flu shot, I’ve had messages from reinstated troops who still aren’t seeing their back pay. They’re being told they have to start the process over and the “money isn’t moving.” Roughly 8,500 troops were separated under the COVID mandate. A class action is already in the Court of Federal Claims for back pay and record corrections. Some Army plaintiffs have already been paid. The rest are being told to refile even after wins, while the government argues the original mandate was “LAWFUL.” The secretary of war has already said it was wrong. Now the government is saying the mandates were “lawful” in order to halt back pay???? These are the same people who refused the unlawful mandates, got separated, and chose to come back. Now they’re being screwed over again. Trump said he hoped they’d make a lot of money. That only happens if the pay actually clears instead of being slow walked through another round of paperwork. God bless

No animal on this planet eats breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the only one told to is the one carrying 100,000 calories to the gym. A male emperor penguin goes 115 days without food, standing on ice at minus 40, with an egg on his feet. A grizzly bear goes six months without food, and gives birth halfway through. A bull elephant seal goes three months without food, on a beach, fighting, and mating, and winning. A sockeye salmon goes the whole river without food, from the day it tastes fresh water to a thousand miles upstream. A Burmese python goes a year without food and comes out of it capable of eating a deer. A wolf goes a fortnight without food, then eats twenty pounds in one sitting, then sleeps. A humpback whale goes four months without food and crosses an ocean on the fat it banked in Alaska. A camel goes a month without food and carries you across a desert while doing it. Not one of them is light-headed. Not one of them has lost its muscle. Not one of them had a flapjack to keep the blood sugar up. Every one of them runs on the same thing: fat, kept on the body, turned into fuel when the food stops, and a brain that switches to ketones the moment the stores run down. You have the same machinery. You have more of it than the penguin. You have been told it is dangerous to skip breakfast.

For most of human history, when a mother could not feed her baby, the baby went to a goat. Then a factory offered to do the goat's job, and you can guess which one is now sold as the scientific choice. Goat milk is milk. Formula is skimmed milk powder with the fat removed and replaced by palm, rapeseed, coconut and sunflower oil. Goat milk fat comes in globules smaller than a cow's, with more of the short and medium chain fats a baby burns easily. Formula fat comes out of a refinery. Goat milk carries cholesterol, because an infant brain is built out of it. Formula carries next to none. Goat milk carries oligosaccharides, the sugars that feed a baby's gut bacteria, and its profile sits closer to human milk than any other animal's. Formula manufacturers now synthesise a couple of them and print it on the tin as an innovation. Goat milk is served warm, raw and alive, straight from the animal. Formula is spray dried, sealed, and brought back to life with the kitchen tap. In 1816 a German physician published a book calling the goat the best wet nurse available. French foundling hospitals kept herds for the purpose and the infants suckled directly from the animal. In 1816 nobody had a formula industry. Today it turns over about £40 billion a year, and the European Union only re-admitted goat milk as a base for infant formula in 2014, which means it had been banned. Two centuries of goats and a two hundred million year track record on one side. Fifty years and a seed oil blend on the other. The one with the seed oils is the one with the word science on the tin.

The heart attack was first described in a medical journal in 1912, and the man who described it had trouble finding a second case. Doctors had been opening chests for 300 years. They had dissected kings, paupers, drunks and the obese, and the blocked coronary artery was a rarity you wrote up. A young Boston cardiologist started practising in 1911. He later said he did not see his first heart attack patient until 1921, and then they came in a flood. By 1950 it was the biggest killer in the United States. By 1960, in Britain. Victorian England ate butter, dripping, suet, bacon and cream, and smoked like a chimney, and the coronary ward did not exist. The Masai lived on milk, meat and blood, and the doctors who went looking in the 1960s could not find heart disease among them. So what arrived between the dissecting rooms of 1900 and the coronary care units of 1960? Crisco launched in 1911. Cottonseed oil hardened into a block that looked like lard. Margarine followed it into every kitchen. By 1960 a quarter of American fat came out of a seed press that had not existed in 1900. The seed oil goes into your blood on the LDL particle. It is the part of the particle that oxidises. The oxidised particle is what the artery wall takes in. The cholesterol was in the butter for a thousand years and the artery stayed open. Then the fat changed, and a disease nobody had heard of became the way most people die. The guideline blames the butter. The butter has an alibi going back to the Bronze Age.

A pound of red meat a day stops the 3pm slump inside a week. A pound of red meat a day puts an iron test back in range inside three months, after a decade of spinach failed to. A pound of red meat a day ends the hunger between meals, because 100g of complete protein and a wedge of fat is the most satiating thing a human can swallow. A pound of red meat a day builds muscle faster than any shake, because it arrives as the muscle it is going to become, creatine and carnosine included. A pound of red meat a day is digested almost completely, leaves the gut quiet, and asks nothing of the pancreas. A pound of red meat a day costs less than the supplements, the oat milk and the protein bars it replaces. A pound of red meat a day came off a grass hill in the rain, from an animal that fed the soil while it stood there. A pound of red meat a day is what a navvy ate in 1850 before he shifted 20 tons of earth, and it is what Walter Willett at Harvard wants cut to 7g, a mouthful, for the good of a planet he has never farmed. A pound of red meat a day is the floor, on carnivore, on keto, on whatever your nutritionist calls it. Put it in the middle of the plate and let the rest of the meal fight for the edges.

One of the founders of the Mayo Foundation ran a sanatorium for sixteen years in which he treated heart failure, kidney disease, high blood pressure, tuberculosis and obesity with one medicine: raw milk, several quarts a day, and nothing else. J. E. Crewe was not a crank. He was a physician at the most famous clinic in America, and the milk cure was an old treatment he had decided to take seriously. The patient went to bed. Every half hour through the day a glass of raw milk from grass-fed cows went down, up to four or five quarts, sometimes more. No other food. Weeks of it. He wrote it up in 1929 and the detail that stands out is the one that puzzled him most. He expected the swollen, waterlogged patients with failing hearts and kidneys to get worse on all that fluid. They did the opposite. The swelling went, the blood pressure fell, the urine cleared. One woman went from three hundred and twenty-five pounds to two hundred and eighty-four in a fortnight on four quarts a day, and her blood pressure came down fifty points with it. Diabetics improved. The tubercular gained weight. Nervous patients slept. Crewe said the treatment was so simple it was not interesting to the profession, and so effective it made him uncomfortable in his own clinic, because it suggested most of his colleagues' work was unnecessary. Pasteurisation came in, raw milk became a controlled substance, and the Mayo Clinic's own doctors stopped mentioning it. The article survives. The practice does not. The most prestigious hospital in America once put its sickest patients to bed with a glass of milk every half hour and watched them get well. It is now illegal to sell that milk in most of the states it was practised in.

In 1913 an Australian explorer's skin came off the soles of his feet in a single piece, and the likeliest culprit was the food every nose-to-tail carnivore is told to eat weekly. December 1912, Antarctica. Douglas Mawson, Xavier Mertz and Belgrave Ninnis are mapping the coast by dog sledge, about 500km from their hut. On the 14th Ninnis drops into a crevasse with his sledge and team. Gone with him: the best dogs, the tent, and most of the food. Mawson and Mertz turn back with six thin dogs and about ten days of rations for two men. The arithmetic is simple and terrible. They will eat the dogs. They do, one at a time, over the following fortnight. The paws stewed. Every scrap used. The liver, the only tender part of a starving husky, is the bit they look forward to. By the new year Mertz is ill. His gut gives way, the skin peels off his legs, and then the delirium arrives. He raves in German and bites the end off his own finger to prove to Mawson it isn't frostbitten. On 8 January 1913 he dies in the tent, about 160km from the hut. Mawson walks on alone. His hair comes out in handfuls and skin lifts off his body. Then the soles of both feet come away, each as a complete layer, and he binds them back on with lanolin and socks and keeps walking. He reaches the hut on 8 February. The relief ship had sailed that same day, a few hours before he got there. He spends another winter on the ice. In 1969 two doctors went back through the diaries and named the likeliest culprit. Husky liver holds vitamin A at roughly thirty times the concentration of beef liver, and a hundred grams of it can carry a poisonous dose. Peeling skin, falling hair, a wrecked gut, a confused mind: it is the textbook picture of a man who has swallowed too much retinol. Every carnivore forum has the same rule now. Liver is the multivitamin. Liver is non-negotiable. Eat it raw, eat it frozen, swallow it in capsules if you can't face it, weekly at minimum or you're doing it wrong. Liver is a storage organ. It is where an animal banks its vitamin A, its copper and its iron, and how much is in there depends on the animal and what it ate. It tastes bitter, and your mouth argues with it every single time. Three years of weekly liver did nothing for me that stopping didn't do better. Muscle, fat and dairy from a ruminant cover what I need. Liver is optional. Feet are not.

The sun became dangerous in about 1950, and it took a factory to do it. Two million years on the African plain, naked, on the equator, midday. Roman legions marched from Spain to Syria in a tunic and sandals. Polynesians crossed 3,000 miles of open Pacific in a canoe with nothing over their heads. Irish navvies dug the railways of England shirtless through the 1840s. Victorian cricketers stood in a field for 5 days in August. Welsh hill farmers brought in the hay with their sleeves rolled up for 40 summers and died of something else. Bondi, 1935. Thousands of fair-skinned Australians on the sand all day, and the only thing anyone rubbed in was coconut oil. Melanoma that year was 1 in 1,500. A curiosity. Then the fat changed. Cottonseed oil, soybean oil, corn oil, sunflower oil. Pressed out of seeds by machinery that did not exist before 1900 and put in every tin, jar and fryer on earth by 1960. Seed oil goes rancid. Leave a bottle open on the counter and it turns. Heat it and it turns faster. Ultraviolet light turns it fastest of all. Rancidity is oxygen getting into the weak points of a fat molecule. Seed oil has two weak points on every molecule. Butter has none. Dripping has none. Your skin is built out of the fat you eat, replaced every couple of years. Sunlight lands on skin built from seed oil and the fat goes rancid inside you. The redness, the heat, the blistering, the peeling. That is rancid fat being cleared away by your immune system. Sunburn is your skin going off like a bottle of sunflower oil left on a windowsill. Melanoma today is 1 in 33. The sun did the same thing to your skin that it did to your great-grandfather's. He was made of beef.

When Florence Nightingale took over the army hospital at Scutari, the first thing she put in front of the War Office was a daily order for 25 gallons of beef tea. If you are over 60 you may still remember the taste. A cup of it brought up the stairs on a tray when you were poorly, dark brown and clear, with the smell of a Sunday roast in it. Your grandmother called it beef tea. Your mother, who had less time, called it Bovril. The real thing was simple and took hours. A pound of lean beef from the shin, cut small, put in a jar with a pint of cold water and a pinch of salt, and stood in a pan of simmering water for most of a day until the meat had given up everything it had. Strained, and brought to the bed in a cup. That cup is 200 years old. It is in Mrs Beeton, with 12 different recipes. It is in every hospital diet sheet of the Victorian age: on admission, a patient got bread, 2 pints of milk and a pint of beef tea. Children got half a pint. It is in Jane Austen and in What Katy Did. When General Lee lay dying in Virginia his wife sent out for a piece of beef to make it. Nightingale herself had a sharp word for it. Boil it down, she said, and there is barely a teaspoon of solid food in half a pint. And yet, she went on, there is something reparative in it that we do not understand, and it can be given safely in almost any illness. She was describing what the chemists found a century later. The thing that comes out of shin beef in a slow pot is gelatine, the broken-down protein of the sinew and bone, with the amino acids the gut and the immune system are built from. It is the first thing a body short of appetite can use. That is why it was on every ward. Not because it was fashionable, but because the people nursing the sick had watched it work for 100 years. The cup went when the ward kitchens closed. The drinks trolley carries a carton now, and a hospital in 2026 can serve a recovering patient a sandwich in a plastic triangle without a trace of the animal anywhere on it. If you were ever handed that cup by someone who loved you, you were given the oldest medicine in Britain. It has not stopped working. We just stopped making it.