Have you ever wondered how I can stand being needled sometimes?

Or perhaps you think I have a prickly personality?

Need more proof that I have thick skin?

This is my third acupuncture treatment for Bell’s palsy. I’m an old hand at acupuncture and have utilized it for more than 10 years now.

An acupuncture treatment always leaves me feeling much better.  It is great for reducing my stress.

I call acupuncture “enforced meditation”.  It helps those of us who find it difficult to remain still and quiet long enough to calm our minds if there are a dozen or so needles stuck in us.

It is disconcerting for me to see my left eye roll up until only the white is showing. From my point of view, both eyes are closed. I don’t realize that I’m not blinking or closing my left eye until I see a video of myself.

My acupuncturist is Chris Powell, of Boulevard Yoga and Healing Arts (formerly Missouri Acupuncture). Chris has helped me through some rough spots over the years.

Thanks man!

That is exactly what happened this weekend though.

There is a page on my blog called “the graveyard”, a list of dead friends that I published as a response to those who claimed that every time an AIDS dissident died it was because they chose to not take the so-called “AIDS cocktail” of drugs.

The graveyard includes this photo montage I created of eight close friends who died while faithfully taking their ARVs.

As you can see, I’ve superimposed a skull-and-crossbone image over their faces to make a statement about the lethal effects of the drugs they took.

Provocative?  I hope so.  Shocking?  Maybe to some.  Disrespectful?  Never.  This is a graphic illustration intended to make a point.  I admit I was nervous when I first posted it and have even taken it offline for brief periods.  I have living friends who also knew these friends.  What would they think?  So far, not a single one of them has protested to me about the imagery, even though I’m sure some of them disagree with me.

A couple of days ago J Todd DeShong, a blogger apparently supported by Baylor Health Care System of Dallas, decided to repost this image out of its original context to attack me.  DeShong’s blogspot blog has a notorious reputation for posting some of the most vile and malicious commentary about publicly identified AIDS dissidents to be found on the web.

If it was disrespectful for me to create a photo montage of friends I had partied with and known intimately, what does one call the action of a person who did not even know them to repost this image as part of a slimy personal attack?

The first word that comes to mind is copyright infringement, something DeShong apparently has no regard for.  Even the lamest blogger knows that when one lifts an image from another site, it must be attributed with a link back to the original source so readers can view it in its original context.  Deshong has denied me that basic right, even though I’ve politely requested it.

That is the least of my concerns though.

J Todd DeShong: you can call me any name you’d like; you can continue to lie about my disability status and sources of income; you can continue to misrepresent my involvement in the creation of the Questioning AIDS website; you can claim I tried to cost you your job, even though it was you who violated your company’s policy.

But, by defiling the graves of people who have nothing to do with our disagreement, you have shown just how despicable and shameless you really are.

Anyone reading your blog, and the comments of your supporters will see you for the sad, miserable creature you are.  I don’t hate you, but I do pity you.

Many of my dissident friends will probably wish I had not made this post, and perhaps it is a mistake to do so, but my friends’ memories won’t permit me to remain silent.

DeShong really is a bit player in the AIDS dissident debate.  His blog barely shows up in any rankings, and my post will only help give him more attention, something he obviously craves.

On the other hand, DeShong is popular with some of the leaders of the anti-AIDS dissident movement, including “snout”, “poodlestomper”, and he is now best friends with Seth Kalichman and other AIDS cheerleaders who are single-mindedly devoted to discrediting and smearing anyone questioning AIDS dogma.  They love his style and support him with frequent comments.

Those who are following the AIDS dissidence issue from the sidelines would do well to read DeShong’s blog and even more importantly, the comments from his fellow “anti-denialists”.

While a debate should stand on its own merits, it never hurts to discern the personas behind the arguments as well.

After self-diagnosing my symptoms, I was reluctant to seek any medical care, mainly because there really is no successful treatment or cure for BP.  Most people recover on their own in a few weeks to months.

However, because of my medical history I do think it is important to document any unusual symptoms or experiences, and BP is unusual, so I called my primary care provider, who is also a “HIV” specialist.  His office staff would not even make an appointment for me, telling me to go to an emergency room instead.

Within 30 seconds the ER doc pronounced “Bell’s Palsy”.  There was no need to further examination to rule out a stroke or TIA.  Because I had told him about the injury with the car door, he did order a cat scan of my head.

Prior to prescribing any treatment, the ER doctor called the doctor who refused to see me in the first place and based on that consultation, prescribed prednisone and informed me that he was certain that the Bell’s Palsy was the result of my “HIV”.

These are words I would never have heard if I were able to hide my HIV-status from health care providers.  Once they know you are poz, they need not consider any other possible explanations for health problems.

The cause of Bell’s palsy in most people is unknown.  Recent scientific studies have called into question the prevailing belief that it is caused by a virus.

“The results cast doubt on previous hypotheses suggesting herpes simplex as the cause of Bell’s palsy,” Lockhart and colleagues said, suggesting that researchers should look elsewhere for the condition’s cause.

John Gever, Senior Editor, MedPage Today

That BP can be caused by physical trauma is not questioned.  I don’t know how a cat scan can rule out damage to a nerve passing though a bone in my skull, but maybe a medical professional could enlighten me.

To see more funny pictures, just watch my youtube video about today’s experience:

David Rasnick, PhD:
Do ARVs Save Lives? The raw data

Rethinking AIDS Conference
November 6-8, 2009
Oakland, CA

Johnny Guitterez

“Let’s go to lunch,” Tracy said, seeing how frustrated I was after discovering that I had miscalculated the distance needed to rough-in a door that I was helping her install in a newly framed wall.

“Fine.  How about chile rellenos?”

“I know this restaurant,” she said, “but I don’t remember the name… down on Southwest Boulevard.  You go past the overpass and then there’s the train trestle… you know?”

I have a clue, but she insists that it is not in the Westside.  “Not that far.”

Tracy and I share some things in common, like getting fatigued and making no sense after only a few hours of working on something.  She has Lyme disease and I have… well, whatever it is I have.

She knows how to get to the place though and gives me directions while I drive us there in my pickup.  “The next light,” she says.

“You mean Summit?”

“Yeah, that’s the name of the street.  Turn left at the light.”

“That’s El Tacquito,” I said, as I turn onto Summit and pull over to park.

Suddenly I am overwhelmed with a sense of loss that I haven’t felt in years.  My throat thickens.  My eyes squint, waiting for the once too-familiar sensation to pass.

Instead I start to sob.  Tracy reaches over and asks what’s wrong.

“This is where I first met Johnny,” and I tell her the story as I gradually regain control.

Many years ago, I met my friend Alfredo for lunch in this very restaurant.  Alfredo knows everyone on the Westside, home to a large Hispanic community in Kansas City.  Our waiter was only 16 or 17 years old, cute as a button and friendly as all get out.  “Johnny’s gay,” Alfredo tells me just before introducing us.

Of course, Johnny was off limits then due to his tender age, but the priest who was bedding him hadn’t gotten that message.

I would drop in to El Taquito for lunch a bit more often than usual after that, but Johnny didn’t work there long.  Johnny had a problem with being reliable.  And with drinking.  And with party drugs.

I met Johnny again about ten years later at the notorious Dixie Belle, a popular gay hangout.  He was as irresistible as ever, but now legal.  And drunk.  And willing to go home with me at 3 am on a weeknight.

When he saw Michael’s picture in the day room, Johnny commented “he’s just my type!”  I led him upstairs, opened our bedroom door and said: “Michael, meet Johnny.”

That was the beginning of one of our most memorable friendships and relationships.  Johnny would wander into and out of our lives for the next few years.  Undependable as ever, but always sweet and loving and a part of our extended family.

We tried to help Johnny several times.  He taught Mexcian folk dancing to barrio youth.  He was good.  We paid for bus tickets for him and his dad to travel to Mexico for a competition.

Our house was a landing pad for people in need for years, but we had strict rules against possession or use of street drugs, and little tolerance for abusive drinking or smoking.  Still, we were pretty laid back and indulged in moderate drinking and even the occasional toke ourselves.

Johnny wasn’t able to control his bad habits though. They controlled him. Maybe that’s why he ultimately tested positive and got sick.  His health declined pretty quickly after his diagnosis.  Maybe a year or two at most.

I remember getting the phone call from his brother on Valentine’s Day, 2001.  Would I come down to Truman Medical Center,  KC’s public hospital, and talk to Johnny’s mom and family?  Johnny’s body was being kept alive on life support machines and they were struggling with deciding what to do.

“Why are you asking me?” I asked Johnny’s brother.  “You know he’s not in that room anymore.”

I’m not God, but by this point in my life I had seen enough death and dying to be certain for myself.  Johnny’s spirit had departed that body some time ago.  When I saw all of those tubes and wires, I recalled a conversation we had had a few months earlier.  One of Johnny’s biggest fears was being kept alive by machines.

I don’t know what their priest had told them, but Johnny’s family knew he was already gone too. I think they just needed someone else to give them permission to do what had to be done and they knew Johnny trusted me.

Johnny’s mom could not bring herself to order that the machines  be disconnected on Valentine’s Day and I’m pretty sure Johnny also understood why his body had to wait one more day.  That is why Johnny’s death certificate reads February 15 instead.

We donated the cemetery lot for Johnny’s final resting place.  We would never buy land to bury our own bodies, but Michael inherited six lots in a beautiful spot in the middle of the city.  Our own ashes will probably be near Johnny again at some point.

I don’t know why my friend Tracy tried to take me to this particular restaurant on this particular day.  It was closed for the day, which seems appropriate somehow.  I do believe in coincidences, but I also believe there is a time to tell every story.

This one’s for you, Johnny.  We miss you so badly.

Well, I did, and it was a very enlightening opportunity to observe the behind-the-scenes maneuvering of corporate America and our so-called “health care” system.

My job was to parse data.  By parse, I mean to find a way to make the business look as good as possible.

For example, when we needed to address a RFI (request for information) concerning the rate of mammograms for our members, I might be able to increase the percentage by slightly shifting the age range used.  “Women over age 45” might yield one number, while “women over age 50” another, and “women aged 45-60” yet another. Then the marketing person responsible for answering the question could pick the number that looked best and simply respond, “based on the data available to us…” or some such phrasing.

Because of this background, I quickly notice data that seems to have been manipulated to support a particular point of view, and such is the case with the Internet Movie Database (IMDb) website’s user ratings for the AIDS documentary House of Numbers.

What is “weighting”?

Weighting is the name of a process often used by pollsters to compensate for shortcomings in their polling data due to methodology. It is a complicated subject and prone to errors, because it inevitably requires that assumptions be made.

A very simple example of the need for weighting might be a telephone survey of consumer purchasing habits. Weighting might be required to compensate for those consumers who do not have telephones and therefore can’t participate in the survey as it is designed, for example.  It is common practice to use weighting in political polling to compensate for gender imbalances.

Here is how the National Council on Public Polls puts it:  “For example, men and women vote differently. Gender is correlated with vote. If we weight the sample to reflect the correct proportions of men and women in the population we will improve the results.”

Weighting can be good, but it is not without risks.

Unbalanced weighting skews results

I recently came across a poll result that was so astoundingly affected by weighting that it raised some red flags to me about the methodology used.

House of Numbers is a very controversial documentary that challenges the conventional theory about HIV and AIDS by talking directly to the discoverers of the alleged virus, as well as top AIDS researchers and policy makers around the world.  Needless to say it has thrown the AIDS establishment into a damage control tizzy that includes a coordinated campaign to discredit the film and its producer, Brent Leung.

It is obvious from the raw voting data below that there is no middle ground when it comes to supporters or detractors who find their way to IMDb to cast their vote.  More than 93% of the voters rated the movie either a 10 or a 1, and there are zero middle-of-the-road votes (data as of 02/12/2010).

It is understandable that IMDb has felt compelled to devise a weighting system  to prevent “vote stuffing” that might unfairly skew the results of new movies:

IMDb publishes weighted vote averages rather than raw data averages. Various filters are applied to the raw data in order to eliminate and reduce attempts at ‘vote stuffing’ by individuals more interested in changing the current rating of a movie than giving their true opinion of it.

I propose that the “ballot stuffing” IMDb is trying to weight for usually comes from movie supporters, such as directors, cast and supporters trying to boost their movie’s rating.  It may be effective for that and it is even possible that this is happening with some of the favorable votes for HON.

What IMDb’s secret algorithm does not seem to take into account however, are organized detractors, opposed to the message of this controversial movie.  Vested interests that are the focus of unflattering documentaries have a lot of resources to try to stack the deck to sink such movies.

Similarly controversial films, like Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth, or Michael Moore’s Sicko may have been such targets as well.

Unlike HON, these movies do not have that glaring  donut hole of no votes for any intermediate ratings.  There is also the matter of volume of votes.  HON has 135 votes to date, compared to tens of thousands votes for Sicko and hundreds of thousands for Inconvenient Truth.  These differences alone probably help make the IMDb algorithm work better.

There is no way a casual observer knows how IMDb is weighting this kind of anti-movie reverse vote stuffing:

The exact methods we use will not be disclosed. This should ensure that the policy remains effective. The result is a more accurate vote average.

I would argue that the secret algorithm used by IMDb probably does not take into account organized attempts to stifle a controversial documentary that negatively impacts those naysayers’ own industry, prestige and livelihood.

The actual average ranking for House of Numbers, based on raw votes without weighting, would be 9.37, not 2.8 as stated on IMDb.  That’s a big difference.  A difference that begs to be re-evaluated.  Even IMDb acknowledges that the arithmetic mean is 7.0, which is also a far cry from the IMDb user rating of 2.8.

Appropriate weighting requires that analysts consider all possible factors that might skew the numbers.  There is no doubt a need to consider the influence of supporters trying to promote this film, but it is equally important to consider the fact that there is a significantly passionate group of detractors who are trying to disproportionately discredit this film.

Lance proposes that the disease affecting so many gay men is actually caused by disruption and destruction of the intestinal tract, or gut.

To read more about Lance’s background in this article written by independent journalist Russell Schoch , published at Reduce the Burden.

Do not miss the links to Lance’s  insightful paper on GRID (Gay Related Intestinal Dysbiosis), which can be found here.

(editorial disclosure:  I consider Tony to be a good friend and we work together as part of the team that operates a new website questioningaids.com)

ubiquitous western kansas steel grain storage bin

Anyone who has lived or grown up on or near a farm in the midwest, will no doubt recognize one of these steel grain storage bins. They come in various sizes and are used to store grain destined for an area storage elevator or feed for livestock.

We had several of these bins at various locations on our communal farmstead, three miles north of Colby, Kansas.  There were cousins and siblings within a few years of my age who lived nearby and we would seek out ways to keep ourselves entertained, though not all of our childhood games are fit for public consumption.

The grain bin located nearest our home was unique.  For one thing, it rarely had any grain in it, but what really made this particular grain bin different was its floor… or rather the lack of a conventional flat pad floor.

This bin was set on a concrete lined, cone shaped hole in the ground.  I guess the purpose of this pit was to increase the amount of storage space, as well as to direct the grain to the smaller bottom of  the pit for easier removal by a grain auger.  The tapered sides of the pit would cause the grain to naturally flow to the bottom where the intake end of the auger would suck it up and dump it into an awaiting truck.

the pit looked something like this

The Pit, as we called it, became our very own amusement park ride.  Farm kids are easily entertained, I suppose, but our townie friends were also impressed with it whenever they came to visit or  sleepover.  Townie kids are generally not easy to impress.

We would show one of them this rather intimidating hole in the ground and boast to them that we knew how to get down to the bottom and back up without skinning our elbows or tearing holes in our jeans.  The bottom of the pit was probably 10 feet deep and the sides were sloped like a funnel.  It seemed obvious that there was no way anyone could climb down and back up without assistance or a rope.

I no longer remember who taught me the “secret path” to conquering gravity and The Pit.  All I recall now is that you had to propel yourself from the grain bin door and run like mad around the circumference of the upper level of the pit.

This was my introduction to the useful power of centrifugal force (or was that centripetal force?) to counter the force of gravity.  The faster one ran, the higher one could stay at the top of the cone shaped pit.  Slow down, and your 70 or 80 pound body would gradually move down the sides, until eventually you found yourself at he bottom of the pit!

Find equilibrium and you could circle the pit indefinitely, or so it seemed.

centrifugal force at work on a race track

One can see the same forces of gravity and centrifugal forces at play when watching race cars or motor cycles zoom around the banked curves at the track.  Too fast and they will fly over the top.  Too slow and they end up at the bottom of the slope.

To escape The Pit, all you had to do was start running in circles until you achieved sufficient speed to find yourself being literally pushed back to the top of The Pit.

Put two or more kids screaming with excitement and adventure inside that enclosed metal bin and you had a ride that was tough to top, at least it was until we finally discovered Elitch’s amusement park in Denver a few years later.

Playing in The Pit was just a game when I was a kid.  What I didn’t know then was how that playtime would yield some important lessons about life for my future.

The force and energy generated by movement can keep a person, or idea, or group in a place that defies forces that would otherwise bring them/it down.  Control over that movement can be used to move the person or the group to the open door at the top of The Pit, or bring them to a soft landing at the bottom.  Neither of those places are inherently good or bad, they just are and there are things to do at either place.  What is important to learn is how to control one’s own motion so that you end up where you want to be to do the important work you have to do.

I had to leave the analogy of The Pit to refine this newly learned concept and discover that lethargy and lack of movement ultimately results in inertia:  moving neither forward nor backward, and accomplishing little to nothing.  On the other hand, hyperactivity can result in overshooting the upper rim of the pit, expelling oneself like a rocket, only to land in a crumpled heap some distance away from the objective, covered in skinned elbows if lucky, and broken bones or worse if not so lucky.

These childhood lessons are coming back into my conscience as I struggle to find my equilibrium again.  A few years ago I had lost momentum and found myself slumped at the bottom of The Pit.  In the past year I have increasing gotten involved with tasks and projects that started out as rewarding efforts, but lately have seemed to require me to run faster and faster until I have thrown myself out of the pit and I can feel the effect of the subsequent energies.

Life is clearly not finished with teaching me important lessons.

My partner Michael is taking a class to get his EMS (Emergency Medical Services) certificate. One of the course requirements is that he get a series of Hepatitis B vaccinations.

Because we were concerned that this or one of the other mandatory vaccinations could result in a falsely positive reaction to the Gallo antibody test result (aka HIV test) in the future, Michael made the difficult decision to have that test done before getting any vaccinations.

Michael has not tested in many years and until now has always tested negative when he did.  If his status were to suddenly change after a Hep B vaccination, he wanted to have as reasonable a point of reference as is possible with these flaky and poly-reactive tests.

The medical staff at the suburban clinic he goes to actually tried to discourage Michael from HIV testing, despite knowing he is gay and has been in a long term relationship with a poz man.

The reasons the medical staff gave to not take a HIV test? First, it wasn’t included on the school’s list of required tests and vaccinations and secondly, they cautioned him that a positive result could cause him a lot of problems with his insurance and employment!

Concerns about the possibility of a cross-reaction due to the vaccinations if he was ever tested later in life were summarily dismissed.

When the clinic finally accepted the fact that Michael still wanted the test done, they first made him read and sign several papers, including a 2-page “patient consent form”, initialing 14 points.

Here are the first two points in that form, posed as questions & answers:

WHAT IS AIDS?
Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) is caused by a virus(HIV) that destroys the body’s ability to fight infection.

WHAT IS HIV?
HIV is a virus which is the cause of the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS).

There is no reason to go further down the list of points in the informed consent form because one cannot escape the circular reasoning of the answers to the first two questions that are the basis for everything that follows.

Circular reasoning is an attempt to support a statement by simply repeating the statement in different or stronger terms.  In this fallacy, the reason given is nothing more than a restatement of the conclusion that poses as the reason for the conclusion.  To say, “You should exercise because it’s good for you” is really saying, “You should exercise because you should exercise.”

It shares much with the false authority fallacy because we accept these statements based solely on the fact that someone else claims it to be so.  Often, we feel we can trust another person so much that we often accept his claims without testing the logic.  This is called blind trust, and it is very dangerous.  We might as well just talk in circles.

None of this is new information to most of us who have been questioning the HIV/AIDS paradigm for any length of time, but I was surprised nonetheless that the AIDS orthodoxy hasn’t done a better job of covering their tracks for sloppy science from the very beginning.  After all, BigPharma’s army of drug pushing sales representatives taking up valuable space in these clinics’ waiting rooms and the doctors’ schedules could be mobilized to provide some straight answers.

If there had any.

photoshopped, if you really need to ask.

I grew up in the small farming community of Colby, Kansas.  Until I was 14 years of age, I lived with my father’s extended family on a wheat and hog farm a few miles north of town.  There were so many Barnett families living within a half mile of each other that some people called the place Barneyville.

Growing up I wasn’t a homosexual because that was another term for pedophile and I wasn’t interested in children.

For almost 30 years I wondered when I would meet a gay person from Colby. I knew of Jonathan from mutual friends, but we were never in the same place at the same time. Then I ran into another person, who hopefully will join us here, from an attendee list for a men’s gathering in KS. I saw his name & called him. He saw my name and concluded it couldn’t be me, because there wasn’t anyone else from Colby who was gay.

Welcome to all who join. I too look forward meeting you here…

A facebook account is required to join.  Confidentiality is respected and expected.  Just search “gay folk colby” on your facebook page and send me a request to join.

* Members from nearby rural communities are also welcome to join.