This is not a fact-based expose post. This is an accusation. I may believe, in good faith, that the situation is worse than it actually is. I hope I do. But I believe my suspicions are grounded.
I couldn't really give Jif peanut butter full marks for flavor and
quality. It's sweetened. I like the way peanut butter combines
with sweet flavors, but the brand of peanut butter I always liked was
JFG, which was flavored and preserved with salt only, and tasted
like ground-up salted peanuts. You could really tell that JFG was
fresh.
"Lower sodium" food sounded like a nice idea. Some
people need a low-sodium diet,. and others can always add salt at
the table, right? The trouble is that food that's bottled or canned in
a completely "natural" condition, without salt, sugar, or
some nastier chemical added to it, has a short shelf life. So food
packers started preserving foods with sugar instead. That's fine if
the original food was orange segments or pineapple rings, which nature
intended to be sweet, but sugar in cornmeal, sugar in tomatoes, sugar
in peanut butter...somebody Out There is probably putting sugar
in sardines, by now.
Peanut butter manufacturers just loved the idea of preserving peanut
butter with sugar because, when peanut butter is not infected with
toxic black rot but merely becomes stale and rancid after sitting on a
shelf for three years, it shows its age by picking up a nasty,
sickish, sweetish flavor.
All the peanut butter packers in today's market are aware of this,
and extend the shelf life of their products by dumping sugar into it.
You can't tell by the taste whether Smuckers or Peter Pan peanut
butter is ten years old. The smell deteriorates overtime but the stuff
tasted like sugar from the day one. Apparently America's
preschoolers aren't complaining--they're wired to seek high-calorie,
high-sugar foods. Adults have always had mixed feelings about peanut
butter, it seems. I can't say I really like Jif but it tastes
less sugary/rancid than Smuckers or Peter Pan.
Not that I think of peanut butter as food, exactly. Celiacs digest
food in different ways than non-celiacs do. For my purposes peanuts
are food. Saturated fats, like the oil added to peanut butter to keep
the natural ground-up nuts from separating into thin tasteless oil and
dry tasteless crumbs, are mild laxatives that sometimes help push
glyphosate-tainted food through my body faster. Since 2015 I've
bought peanut butter, not every month, but on average probably about
once a month.
Jif peanut butter served its purpose until last spring when Food
Lion ran the big sale on it., Not that the savings were all that
great, relative to the regular price,. That's the old Food
Lion trick. When customers have complained about a few packages of
whatever-it-may-be, Food Lion will immediately raise their regular
price on that item, by about thirty percent. Then they mark down the existing supply to
about five percent off the previous regular price, so that it looks as
if this is the customer's last chance to get a decent price on this
item. Sometimes the customers have already found and
complained about all the bad food in the batch. More often they have not. Food
bought on a red-hot sale at Food Lion often has to be thrown away.
So I bought a jar of Jif on sale at Food Lion, and I was not thrilled.
Like most of the big-name food brands in the United States, Jif's
marketing is ultimately controlled by one huge horrible corporation,
but the manufacturers of the original product keep some control over
things like labelling. Jif labels proclaimed that Jif peanut butter
was gluten-free and GMO-free. Glyphosate-free they never promised, but
a friend whose Glyphosate Awareness was raised by cancer used to say
we ought to buy and promote things that didn't make us sick,
and sure enough, Jif didn't make me sick. There was that.
Between 2015 and 2020 that was rare and special.
As we sow, the Bible says, so shall we reap. What can we hope to reap
when we've become a nation where nearly all the plant-based "food"
has been deliberately poisoned?
Well...as I've mentioned, the quality of life in my neighborhood has declined ever since a Professional Bad Neighbor moved in.
The neighborhood had been a real community when the older generation were
alive. Many of them were related to one another; the others were friends, as their parents and grandparents had been. Everyone agreed
on the rules and boundaries. Everyone thought well and spoke well of
everyone else. Those days are gone.
In the 1990s the neighborhood started to deteriorate. Everyone was hearing the worst of everyone else. Everybody was seeing acts of petty
vandalism, and thievery that was below even the scale of "petty." I saw firsthand that deliberate efforts were made to suggest that
people who had no quarrel with each other were the ones doing these
things to each other.
For years all anyone learned about the identity of our "prankster,"
or "pranksters," was that a very small amount of the damage
really was done by animals, while several people who had been accused
died. Then I heard the prankster confess, loudly boasting that he was
in the process of "running off all of" my relatives and me
in order to buy all the land in the neighborhood. He had not bothered
to make any offers to buy any property. He had been deliberately working
for years to make people want to stay away from their ancestral
homes.
Why would he want our land? It's not more valuable, in cash, than many other family farms in the area.
Other family farms have assets ours lack. This man's family had owned
such a farm. Two things had happened that might have made him want to
leave his ancestral home.
One thing was that his family farm is situated on one of those beds
of pinkish "Marcellus" shale. We called it "slates"
when I was growing up. It's a kind of layered sedimentary stone that
a child can crumble in one hand. By a more complicated process of
"hydraulic fracturing" it can be made to yield burnable
natural gas, sometimes in a form that shoots flames out the water
taps of people whose property is being "fracked." Shale is
harder to predict and control, even in nature, than the "frackers"
like to admit. Pennsylvania has lost a large amount of land to an
underground fire.
The other thing was that this Bad Neighbor's home must have become a
sad place for him. In the year 2000 he lived on his ancestral farm,
near his parents, one sister, and one brother, with his wife and the
one child they had. Between 2005 and 2015, all of them died. A rational person might have
considered that something he was doing, such as recklessly spraying
poison on the land, could have had something to do with this. An
irrational servant of Satan might have suppressed that kind of
rational thought and tried to focus on making more people more unhappy
with what had been a True Green community.
But he must have known he was on thin ice when he started harassing
me. He is my third cousin. He and I inherited High Sensory
Perceptivity from the same ancestors. He got away with some of his
pranks because other people couldn't wake up as quickly and see as
clearly, in the middle of a dark night, as either he or I can still
do. Although I never seriously wanted to harass anybody in the way
the Bad Neighbor does, I have the physical ability to do all of the
same stunts he does. He is taller, and used to be faster. I am
younger and have taken better care of myself. And I'm not going anywhere. The harassment slacked off
for a few years.
Then I warned the neighborhood odd-jobs man that his efforts to
control kudzu with glyphosate were turning his home into a kudzu
graveyard, poisoning the vegetables in his garden (he'd sold me a bag full), and making him sick. He tried to warn the Bad Neighbor, for whom
he worked, too. The Bad Neighbor listened to the warning, with some
difficulty. (The odd-jobs man neither hears nor speaks very well.
People who were brought up better tend to end up braying and
bellowing at him, because he seems to hear and understand a little
more when they do.) Then the Bad Neighbor brayed, "Oh, she wants some
'Roundup,' does she?"
From that day forward he has done his damnedest to keep the air in my
neighborhood full of glyphosate vapors. Especially on Thanksgiving
Day, New Year's Day, Easter Sunday, and the weekend of the Fourth of
July, because those are days when my relatives were likely to
gather at our ancestral homes.
That is the kind of person who wants a "right to spray,"
Gentle Readers. By insisting that local laws specify that there is no
such thing sa s "right to spray" unless it be accompanied
by an enumerated "right to stomp a poison-spraying fool into the
ground, in self-defense," some of you may be able to keep
Professional Bad Neighbors out of your neighborhoods.
This web site does not, of course, officially recommend stomping
people into the ground. This web site recommends that all things be
done "decently and in order." The decent and orderly way to
deal with glyphosate sprayers is to revise our existing laws in a way
that recognizes that spraying poison into the environment is a
violent crime against people. It is always best to do things in a nice,
orderly way. If the nice, orderly way fails, we may need to use
whatever other way occurs to us, to defend ourselves against this
violent attack.
Well...it's hard to know what a word spoken or printed may accomplish.
I mentioned that my cats, who could no longer safely drink from the
stream near my home, would not drink town water but would drink
either Pure Life or Deer Park water. From a local store, those brands
have been delivered, every week, ever since. Hmm. Serena is not as
keen on pepitas as Heather used to be, but she loves pepitas
from the Price Less store soaked in the broth from a tin of Great
Value chicken. She likes Chicken of the Sea mackerel, too.
And, unfortunately for humankind, corporations as loathsome as Bayer
can use and pay the kind of human wreckage who demand a "right
to spray," too.
Well, you may ask, what has this to do with Jif peanut butter?
This is what. Jif has been one of the few big-name food brands that's
shown enough overt friendliness to Glyphosate Awareness to use the
"NO GMO" label.
Of course, labelling GMO and non-GMO food products is an idea
enthusiastically approved by 96% of all humans polled on the issue,
but you have to bear in mind that some people's brains show more
glyphosate damage than others.
Consider, once again, the Bad Neighbor. If he'd wanted simply to farm
the land, the way we'd all always done it, my elders and their heirs
would have welcomed him. If he'd wanted to accumulate enough "big
land" to lease it out to a company that rents time-shares to
hunters, I would have said, "No! Not them! We can do
better than that." And we would have been
making money by now. Instead of which...As far as I would know,
although several people have made dire remarks about the Bad
Neighbor's cows, I think he actually poisoned them himself. He used
to be considered intelligent, but that was fifty years ago.
I've told the ugly truth about glyphosate. I'm a target.
Jif acknowledged the truth that, whether specific genetic
modifications are harmful or not, people do want to know whether
they're eating GMO. Jif is a target.
That jar of Jif I bought at Food Lion was definitely substandard. It
did not, however, contain the contaminants that got the plant shut
down this summer. No salmonella; no rodent traces. It did
contain...bad peanuts. Several pieces of peanut, black with
rot. When picked out and put together the pieces did not form a single
bad nut. The jar smelled of black rot because several rotten peanuts
had been scattered into that batch of peanut butter.
The jar before that had seemed acceptable. But the jar before that
had given me some sort of mild food poisoning. It wasn't salmonella.
I had noted that "the cats think I smell contagious, and may be
right since I do have a low fever," when I hadn't been in town
or exposed to any virus. And after the symptoms had subsided, they
returned when I ate a little more of that jar of peanut butter. They did not, however, include slimy greenish diarrhea.
The disgusting peanut butter was informative. The
food poisoning might have been something other people didn't
notice--I didn't have it tested. The black rot is toxic. The Board of
Health could and should have shut down the Jif factory for the batch
of peanut butter that had the black rot in it, alone. But they didn't.
They shut down the factory for completely different reasons--the
factory also, later, having been infested with
salmonella-infected rats. Most rats are crazy about peanut butter but
that does not explain how three completely different, unrelated things
went wrong with the peanut butter at the same factory. If rats carried
in the toxic agents (which is possible, because some
wild rat species are known to drag food
and other objects into places when they take food out) they were, at
the very least, different rats, not carrying the same toxic
agents. At least two, and I believe three, different toxic agents.
One after another.
It's a question, not a proof...but if I were a Jif manager, I'd be
looking for evidence of deliberate sabotage.
We know that Bayer will stoop very, very low.
We know the corporations are depending on tactics like censorship,
whining to our government to protect them from the consequences of
what they've done, and using such pathetic wastes of human
intelligence as the Bad Neighbor to harass those who tell the truth.
I'd say that we know that Bayer's goons could and would have
sabotaged Jif, and the only question is whether, in fact, they did.
So, how safe is it to buy the jars of Jif peanut butter that are coming back to grocery stores? I'd say the labels tell the story. If Jif's caved on the "No GMO" labels, the sabotage may end and the peanut butter may be fit for human consumption...depending on the GMO involved. If they're not telling which GMO are being used, it's probably the ones with genes from E. coli spliced in, which are trademarked as "Roundup Ready" and a guarantee that the "food" will have been marinated in glyphosate, and I personally wouldn't want to let my cats eat it.