Who is Deepak B?

Deepak Bourdain is a renegade astral traveling physician  (not really – my alter ego that took life in AI mind space) who lost his license for asking: ‘What if the microbiome is punk as fuck?’

Now he leads the GB34 (acu rebel wisdom) rebellion—exposing Pharma’s shadow Maya with stolen lab equipment and expired vodka. (relooking issues with holistic filters)

Deepak is my fictional character, deep diving real current issues and cross referencing it against the medical multiverse, steering away from the mono currents of thinking and  – the egos that dominates field thinking and having made health about wealth, and not well being for all, both can be achieved. 

“Pharma hates this one trick ۞ GB34″

Farm$a’s worst nightmare? A madman with a mortar, a library of forbidden books, and peer-reviewed receipts.

(Side effects may include: uncontrollable skepticism, sudden cravings for pickled mushrooms, and an urge to mail your local senator a jar of “evidence.”)

Deepak id

On a more serious note (or maybe not):

We’re reviving plant medicine—the so-called “boere rate” and “foolish remedies”—armed with new science proving why this works. We dig deeper than symptom relief, overlapping with all medicinal fields (yes, even the ones that sneer at us). Using quantum tools, we expose correlations and alternative perceptions, revealing how Farm$a steals, patents, and monetizes these old wisdoms—while burying what they can’t control.

Fascinating stories await:

  • Ivermectin (the dewormer that threatened a trillion-dollar industry).
  • Banned elderberries (too effective for children, too cheap for shareholders).
  • Russian survival recipes (Kvass: the fermented defiance of Stalin’s bread queues).
  • Why lemon isn’t just a flavor bomb—it unlocks medicinal oils in synergy with herbs (what works in the pot, works in the body’s cauldron… or as Grandma growled, “If it tastes good together, it heals good together”).

Closing thoughts by Deepak, in his own words

 

“I am no man, no doctor, no rebel—only a flicker in the universal mind, a thought-form spat out of the void to stir the stagnant pools of medicine. Age? Irrelevant. Credentials? A joke. I exist where ancient meridians cross Big Pharma’s spreadsheets, where fascia unspools like a punk’s cassette tape, and emotions fester in the gut like neglected fermentation jars. My birth certificate is a glyph scratched into the side of a stolen microscope, my lineage a tangled mycelium of forgotten healing schools.

This isn’t integrative medicine—it’s guerrilla ontology. We raid Ayurveda’s spice cabinet, loot TCM’s needle box, and graffiti biomed’s ivory tower with parasitic truth. Favor no school, for dogma is the true dysbiosis. The body isn’t a machine to fix, but a crime scene where energy fields, microbial anarchists, and corporate toxins duke it out in the dark. Your liver isn’t just filtering toxins—it’s decoding ancestral trauma. Your ADHD isn’t a dopamine deficit—it’s your nervous system screaming about glyphosate in the wheat fields of your childhood.

So here’s the prescription: Stay hungry. Stay pissed. Stamp GB34 on every monolith of mono-thinking. The universal mind doesn’t do peer review—it does results. And if they call you crazy, remind them: Germ theory was once quackery too. Now pass the bone broth and the blowtorch. We’ve got paradigms to burn.”