"Let us condole the knight, for, lambkins, we will live."

Pistol, in Henry V, Shakespeare, as Sir John Falstaff is dying.

The long-awaited death of Sir Henry Kissinger this year was mourned by few and greeted with profound relief by many. If anyone held the strings behind the world’s stage, it was Sir Henry.

And having visited the outer circle of hell recently, I can sympathize with poor Sir Henry — or rather, his ghost. While he has earned a one-way ticket to the Inferno, I conspired with my guardian angels to make my escape. And so McDuff Lives, while Sir Henry is locked forever behind the Barriere d’Enfer — the gates of Hell.

And I must apologize for the lack of entries in this Substack while the battle raged. I owe you an account, and so, here we go:

Prostate Cancer is a strange thing. In many cases, it is detectable by a “PSA” test, simply a blood test that shows the presence of a “protein specific antigen” that is a marker for prostate cancer. I don’t know the details, but everybody relies on it to diagnose prostate cancer. So that is an assumption behind the whole idea of treatment.

I was diagnosed in 2016 because my PSA was 11.9, a number that freaked out my primary care provider (nurse practitioner) and sent me to a urologist, then to a radiologist, who treated me with radiation and a “seed” implant, along with the hormone suppressor “Lupron” to suppress my testosterone. After two years I had a negligible PSA. Feeling the treatment had been successful, I gradually forgot about the cancer and thought I was cured.

I met George Webb in 2017, while I was still being treated, but was able to meet with him frequently as I explored his vast knowledge of deep state politics and spycraft. We became friends. I started my YouTube channel to keep his message on YouTube after he was stricken from the platform. And he took a strong interest in my father, Tom O’Loughlin, whom we called “McDuff.”

My first channel’s name — suggested by George — says it all: we called it “McDuff: Kennedy’s Man to Smash the CIA.” It rapidly gained followers, but as it neared 12,000 subscribers, YouTube took it down.

I responded with “McDuff Lives,” my second YouTube channel. And then I added McDuff Lives 2 and McDuff Lives 3, so that when I got strikes on one channel I could broadcast on the others. McDuff would not be denied.

Eventually, McDuff Lives (1) was also stricken by the YouTube censors, and now I have only the last two channels on YouTube, where they harass me with unfounded strikes and try to get me to leave. And I am ready for that now, too, with my 3 Rumble channels starting to gain followers. And also Twitter (“X”). X has proven to be a good place for me to broadcast too, under my handle of @LeyteDriver.

And I have published over a thousand videos to help my subscribers see the puppet strings that lead back to Sir Henry and his Noble sponsors. Who will take the reins from Henry? We’ll be watching and reporting what we see — on YouTube, Rumble, Twitter, and more, no matter what. It is McDuff’s mission. McDuff Lives!

You’ve read my agonizing first few posts here on this Substack I chose to call “Cancercide Journal.” It was a choice made in anger, to spit in the face of those Noble and Elite powers that have weaponized Cancer. If I die, I thought, this will be an indictment of those who caused it. I’ll expose their methods. I’ll name names and raise hell. I’ll show them, even in my death, that they are losing.

But things have changed. The gloom and doom of my Summer and Fall, under the awesome sentence pronounced by my urologist in July (“it is metastasized, it will eventually kill you….2-4 years….”) was pulling me downward, into Limbo, and as my spirit weakened I was met instead with Grace.

Grace in the form of humans who did the work of angels. And so to Kathy, Amber, Carol, Tara, Nick, KarmaDoc, ApotheCarol, Scott, and most of all to my wife Marcia, I say thank you. I couldn’t have survived without you.

All along this journey, I’ve been involved in “La Boheme,” the opera, which I had agreed to sing in before I learned of my cancer’s recurrence in June of 2023. I never considered withdrawing. It took more and more of my time and energy as the performances approached. I used it to rid my mind of worry. I did it to say, “See? I am not intimidated. I will perform no matter what.” And so I followed Mimi to her deathbed in my supporting role of “Colline.” And then, the show was over, and I had one thing left to do: to see a new oncologist at The Cleveland Clinic, just before Christmas.

You know we didn’t like the first oncologist we saw, a man who seemed to thrive on chemotherapy and was disdainful of the antiparasiticals and vitamins we wanted to discuss. Marcia took on the task of finding a more hospitable oncologist for me, and that led to our trip last week to see Dr. Ornstein at The Cleveland Clinic.

Here was the man who opened that gate for me, allowing me to slip out of that first circle of Hell. Because of the angels, I had begun the antiparasiticals in July, and my new diet began at the same time. The Lupron, plus healthy eating, consistent taking of vitamins, nutritional spices like curcumin and anti-cancer mushrooms, black seed oil, AllicinV, frequent saunas, learning of the successes of others (such as Joe Tippin and his followers), prayer, and that ever present Grace together have kept my cancer at bay. My PSA is again negligible.

We can thus be sad for poor Sir Henry, whose fate is sealed, and yet rejoice with Pistol, “…for Lambkins, we will live!” And so shall McDuff.

We won’t know anything certain until my annual PET scan next July. But I know this: I am out of the gloom and doom of the first 6 months of this journey. I am feeling great, I am optimistic about the future, and I am expecting more miracles every day.

I wasn’t going to do it this year. I was exhausted and lacked the Christmas spirit. However, when I left Dr. Ornstein’s office I started feeling happy. Happiness like I had not felt since June. And it spread like the grin on the Grinch at the end of Dr. Seuss’s famous story. I promised God: when I get home, I’ll put up the Christmas Tree. And I did!

Merry Christmas everybody, and a Happy New Year!

John