Before the carnivore diet had a single follower or a hashtag, it had Vilhjalmur Stefansson: an Arctic explorer who lived on meat for years, then checked himself into a New York hospital to eat nothing else for a year and prove the experts wrong.
Stefansson was an anthropologist who went north in 1906 to live among the Inuit. When his supply ship failed to arrive, he had little choice but to eat as his hosts did, on fish, then caribou, seal and fat, with almost nothing from a plant. He expected to feel terrible. Instead he felt superb, and he kept it up, on and off, for years. The Inuit he lived with had no scurvy, no rotten teeth, none of the diseases the textbooks promised a meat-eater. He came home convinced that everything he had been taught about food was wrong.
The experts did not take it well. One leading scientist said it was easier to believe Stefansson was lying than to accept that men could stay healthy on meat alone. So in 1928, to settle it, he and a fellow explorer, Karsten Andersen, checked into Bellevue Hospital and agreed to eat nothing but meat and water for a full year, watched around the clock by doctors who expected them to fall apart.
There was one stumble, and it taught the most important lesson of all. Early on, the doctors made Stefansson eat only lean meat, the fat stripped away. Within three days he was ill, with diarrhoea and a wretched, flattened feeling. No vegetables, no medicine. Just fat. A meal of fatty steak put him right within two days. This is the trap the old-timers called rabbit starvation, and it is the thing modern carnivores still get wrong. Lean muscle alone will make you ill. The fat was never the optional part. The fat was the point.
With the fat restored, the year passed without drama. No scurvy. No kidney damage. No soaring blood pressure. The men ate roughly four-fifths of their calories as fat, finished healthy and sharp, and the committee was forced to admit, in print, that a man can live on meat alone without harm.
It made him the most famous meat-eater alive. He spent the rest of his life arguing the case, championing pemmican as the perfect ration and writing book after book. He was no saint, a showman whose Arctic ventures cost lives. But on the food he never wavered. In his seventies he returned to his stone-age diet of meat and fat, reportedly eating butter off a spoon at dinner parties, and lived, clear-minded, to 82.
A century on, every man posting his ribeye is repeating an argument Stefansson already won, in a hospital ward, in 1928.
The sun, as prescribed across a single century.
1903: "Sunlight is medicine. We build clinics to sit the sick in it."
1921: "Sunlight cures rickets. We proved it on a hospital roof in New York."
Then somebody worked out how to bottle the alternative.
1981: "Slip, slop, slap. The sun ages you. Cover up."
1990s: "Every unprotected minute is damage. Factor 15, all year."
2000s: "The sun causes melanoma. No tan is safe. Stay in the shade."
2010s: "Factor 50, daily. Reapply every two hours. Mind the window."
Late 2010s: "Curious. A vitamin D deficiency epidemic. Nobody can think how."
2020s: "Sensible sun is essential, actually. Vitamin D, mood, sleep, blood pressure. Do get some morning light."
You: a member of the only generation in two and a half million years to be talked out of standing in the sunshine. Lectured for forty years to fear the free and universal source of the very vitamin your skin was built to make, and now sold that same vitamin back in a capsule, beside a sad little lamp that does, for eighty-nine pounds, roughly what the sky was doing for nothing.
You take calcium for your bones. A good deal of it ends up setting like cement in your arteries instead.
The missing piece is vitamin K2, the traffic warden that steers calcium into your bones and keeps it out of the artery wall.
Where K2 lives:
- Egg yolks, the bit you were told to bin
- Butter from grass-fed cows, the deep yellow is the tell
- Hard cheese like Gouda and Edam
- The fat on the meat, the bit you were told to trim
The plant form, K1, you barely convert. The animal form, K2, your arteries put straight to work.
The Rotterdam study tracked nearly five thousand people. The biggest K2 eaters had far less heart disease and far less hardening of the aorta. K1 did nothing measurable.
So the warden lives in egg yolk, butter and the fat on the chop. The exact three foods a generation was taught to fear.
Flute frequencies for nervous system reset and to clear energy in the stomach
Bookmark and listen to this as many times as needed until you can fully relax your body and mind
Use a speaker or headphones for ultimate effects
-cody.joshua_healingsounds
Nobody talks about the single greatest wealth hack of the modern age, so I'll break it down for you, free of charge.
Cut out everything that grows. Grains, seed oils, fruit, veg, the lot. Eat only what walks, swims, or comes from something that does.
First, the basket. The bread, the cereal, the pasta, the crisps, the £6 oils, the daily meal-deal, the greens powder, the fibre you bought to fix the fibre. Four grand a year, gone.
Then the medicine cabinet. Antacids, bloating tablets, laxatives, the odd GP visit. Another two.
Compound that at 8% for thirty years and you're north of half a million pounds.
But we're only getting started.
You stop sizing up in trousers, so there's a wardrobe you never replace. You're no longer slumped and bloated on the sofa for two hours every evening, which, billed at your hourly rate, is quietly a second salary.
That reclaimed energy gets funnelled into your career. You're promoted purely because you stopped eating toast. Corner office by forty, conservatively.
Factor in the decades added back onto your life, each one earning and compounding, and you are now, technically, immortal and extremely liquid.
Your great-grandchildren inherit a private island, founded on the morning you put the sandwich down.
Most people will scroll past this. The wealthy already understand it.
vitamin b6 is incredibly underrated.
vitamin b6 blocks cortisol and is one of the most potent ways to lower stress
it also helps muscles regenerate, critical to dopamine function and mood.
if youre not eating beef liver, youre probably deficient.
The magnifying glass exists because Europe accidentally made its own food labels too small to read.
EU law (Regulation 1169/2011) forces every package to print ingredients, allergens, additives, nutrition per 100g, and origin. Consumer groups fought for decades to get all of it mandated. The catch is buried in the same regulation: the legal minimum font is a 1.2mm x-height, lower-case letters barely over a millimeter tall. On small packages it drops to 0.9mm.
So manufacturers did the rational thing. The box didn't get bigger, but the list of required disclosures kept growing, so the type shrank to the floor. The expiration date and the additive list, the two things shoppers actually squint for, end up printed at the smallest size the law permits.
Now layer in who's pushing the cart. Germany has one of the oldest populations on earth, median age around 46. Presbyopia, the age-related loss of close focus, sets in for nearly everyone by their mid-40s. A massive share of the customer base physically cannot read the information the government spent twenty years forcing onto the packaging.
That lens on the handle is the market quietly closing the gap. Rossmann mounted them across its stores. A German firm patented the pull-out version back in 2005. There's a Swiss company whose entire business is bolting magnifiers onto trolleys, and it pitches them as the fix for labels that became "barely legible or totally illegible."
Mandatory disclosure and readable disclosure stopped being the same thing somewhere around the third allergen rule. A few cents of plastic on a cart is what makes the law mean what it says again, handed to the shopper for free.
Pay half your mortgage every two weeks and you quietly make 13 monthly payments a year instead of 12.
That's the whole trick. 26 biweekly half-payments add up to 13 full payments, and the framing buries the 13th one in plain sight by splitting it into small chunks you never feel leave your account.
A $400,000 loan runs roughly $2,500 to $2,700 a month at today's rates. Biweekly slips an extra full payment of pure principal into the year, applied when your balance is highest.
Early in a 30-year amortization, almost every dollar of a normal payment goes to interest. The balance barely moves for years. That one extra principal payment lands at the front of the curve, where interest compounds against you hardest, which is why a single extra payment annually wipes out roughly 5 years and tens of thousands in interest.
The part the pitch leaves out: you get the identical result by adding one twelfth to each monthly check, or writing one extra payment every December. No enrollment, no new schedule.
Servicers and third-party "biweekly programs" know this. Plenty charge a setup fee plus per-transaction costs to run a calendar you can copy for free. People pay $300 and up to be forced into saving they could do themselves.
The cadence itself shaves a little extra because each half arrives a couple weeks early, but that timing effect is marginal. The 13th payment does almost all the work. It's a genuinely smart move, and what makes it work is forced extra principal hitting the front of the loan, not the day of the week you send it.
Secret weapon in life: a fast forgiveness cycle. Not for their sake. For your CPU. Every grudge is a background app consuming resources you need for the next chapter.
One of the theories I have around mold illness is that because the mitochondria are dysfunctional
This is where 90% of the insomnia comes from
And why so either struggle to struggle to stay asleep
But that doesn't make sense?
Surely if you just solved the your light environment and then your sleep would return to normal?
Wrong
PINEAL AANAT the enzyme that catalyzes serotonin into melatonin requires acetyl-CoA as a cofactor
And acetyl-CoA is primarily produced in mitochondria via pyruvate dehydrogenase (PDH).
Even when you sort everything else, there's still a rate-limiting step that exists
Faulty mitochondria = reduced acetyl-CoA = impaired PINEAL AANAT activity = faulty melatonin production downstream
And this might also be true for other conditions beyond mold/CIRS, a cellular bottleneck.
Major cheat code in life: knowing that most problems are temporary but most reactions are permanent. The email fades. The text you sent in anger doesn't. Outlast the feeling.
The tongue is the most overlooked input device on the human body, and Tomás Vega just turned it into a wireless mouse.
Start with the mechanism. A disproportionate share of your motor cortex is wired to control your tongue, far more than its size would suggest. It articulates with fine, fast precision every time you talk and swallow, and its muscles are built for endurance, so they barely fatigue. You already carry a high-bandwidth controller that almost no interface has ever used.
The MouthPad^ uses it. A pressure-sensitive pad sits on the roof of your mouth next to a pair of motion sensors. Slide your tongue to scroll. Press flat on the palate to left click. Sip to right click. It pairs over Bluetooth like any trackpad, no special software. The whole device is a 3D-printed retainer in dental-grade plastic, built from a scan of your mouth, snapping over your teeth.
Here is the part that reframes it. Tomás interned at Neuralink before this. Brain implants can read intention, but they cost years of prep and skull surgery. He wanted the same hands-free control with none of that, usable by people right now. So he went one layer out, to the palate, and captured most of the bandwidth with a dental appointment instead of an operating room.
That choice is why a quadriplegic computer engineering student is coding, drawing equations, and taking lecture notes with her tongue today.
And he is not done rebuilding your inputs. The next version adds a low-volume mic and 3D tongue sensing for silent dictation nobody beside you can hear. First the mouse. Now the keyboard. Both inside your mouth.
The wellness industry wants you to believe reclaiming your health is expensive. It is one of the great lies, and it keeps the working man out on purpose.
The magazines all sell the same picture. A grass-fed ribeye from a named cow. A powder that costs more than the meat. A plunge pool, a sleep tracker, a fridge full of things ending in a vowel. The message underneath is always the same: if you cannot afford the boutique version, the door is shut.
It is the oldest trick going. Make the basic and abundant look exclusive, so the people who need it most assume it was never meant for them.
Here is what actually rebuilds a body, on next to nothing:
Eggs and fatty mince. Among the most complete food on earth, and still the cheapest things in the shop.
Tinned sardines. Complete protein and the good fats, pennies a tin.
Sunlight. A vitamin factory running on your own skin, switched on free every time you step outside.
Walking. The most underrated training there is, available the second you lace your shoes.
Sleep. The most powerful recovery known to man, and nobody has yet worked out how to charge you for it.
No subscription. No named ranch. A frying pan, a pair of shoes, and the nerve to ignore the people selling the deluxe edition.
Good health was never the preserve of the rich.
They would just prefer you believed it was.