Live life as if it were a game.
(my nephew learned dad's psychopathy games well)
make life heaven or you can make life
hell. It is up to you.
course dad was talking about living in a world of
"Two wrongs don't make a right."
(except don't hurt mom's feelings or she will make you pay
"I don't think your father knows how to love."
remember that my father was absent
more than he was home.
Every morning he was off to
work, business, to provide for us. When he was
home, he revealed little about who he was, although we heard in conversations
between my mother and him quite a bit about what he did.
My father was
self-employed. He was a Real Estate Broker. He was always overseeing some
near-catastrophe, real or imagined, lest clients be unhappy for a single
moment. The center of his attention was
Waiting for Dad to come home had an air of
expectation. Did he have a
Or a bad one? Was there some crisis left at the
office that would cast a shadow
over the night? Because even if Dad
wasn't outright angry about
work, even if he didn't take it out on his
family as mine sometimes did, if Dad had a
bad or unproductive
day, we had to be regardful of it.
Making all those other people happy, my father was rarely around for us but
we never went hungry and we always had plenty of consumer products from Sears
Roebuck to keep us entertained and outfitted in plaid bell bottoms.
I wanted growing up was more of his time. What
I typically got was his anger and his
frustration. He always said I
should go out for sports. Once he bought me a baseball glove and told me he
would play catch until I learned to throw. He threw it so hard it nearly broke
my hand and we only played catch once because I was such a poor sport with a
We didn't get along. I was never good enough. It was
always my fault because I just didn't try hard enough! I just was not strong
enough or tough enough. But he worked to toughen me up !
He simply did
not know how to interact with his
Had Dad had a good
day or a bad day? Had
he won at the horse races?
If Dad had a
bad day, I
intuitively backed off and kept my
distance until the coast was clear. I learned to be
invisible, to disappear. If Dad
had a good day I could greet him and share some
happy news. Many
times when Dad pulled into the driveway with
him came a sense of trepidation,
even fear, and at times terror. For I
was being taught that I was a very bad disobedient
boy. "When your father gets home he is going to wear you
Sometimes I was relieved when he had to
work late again - relieved at not having to
walk around on tiptoe and whisper to give Dad a break after his hard
day drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
It was just easier not to be on guard.
My father knew no "normal"
office hours. Nor have I. You could find him at his desk at 9:30 at
night and at 7:00 the next
morning. I knew that he worked
incredibly hard, my mother made him. He sacrificed himself for us and he made
sure we knew it. He was largely anonymous, but
loved for the consumer products he provided for
The hypocrisy of working all the time and losing the ability to enjoy
life may be obvious to some, but not to all of
In our house, we were made aware, intentionally or not, of how privileged
and truly fortunate we were to have the tract home we lived in, the
Sears-Roebuck plaid bellbottoms pants we wore and to
way we did being able to watch
television so as to identify the next thing we desired. Our lives were so
the peasants Mao who were starved to death in China.
I felt every effort of the energy my father expended to provide for us.
I don't believe my parents, at the time,
were aware of how intensely they were
transmitting this value to us.
father mistook his job for a life. My parents
would so often discuss work at dinner, during a
drive to visit relatives, or even on
vacations which, at times were cut short.
In our house the
observed night and
subconsciously absorbed a crucial
equation: Virtue =
Dad's life was really all about
work. Dad was his work. Dad was not Dad unless he was away, on the
phone, showing real estate or at the office negotiating contracts. And the
phone could never be allowed to just ring. Someone always had to answer it
immediately. Dad was to be admired; he worked so hard. My father's
work I emulated. I admired my father's
and desperately wanted his approval.
Like it or not, I became a
facsimile of my father.
a great deal by observation,
behaviors of their parents
and adults they admire. Children learn that being busy indicates
work, which is virtuous. I wanted to be
loved, to be seen as
virtuous, so I copied some of my dad's
busy. My schoolwork showed that I was busy.
Before I hit puberty all I
wanted was to be the best boy in the whole world. I
set out to prove I could be. I would have to be the most "productive." I
cleaned his office and delivered his brochures regularly to every house in the
Later I was busy being away from home. I wanted to be away all
day, every day. To escape never ending "duty".
Still later I
thought about how my father would
respect me for
working myself to
death. And set out to do
I had no idea what this
would cost me both emotionally and
To the best of my
recollection this narrative of my life cleaves to
the truth as I experienced it and remains factual.
intent here is not to hurt I feel that is unlikely as my family lives deeply in
My anger was justified by the ostracism they chose to practice
on me because of my opinions on eugenics,
surveillance, theology, hegemony,
social control, religion, violence, conspiracies,
knowledge, drugs, chemicals,
vaccines, etc. do not
dovetail nicely with the "popular" views espoused by corporate media.
My sister, with my brother's complicity, had her newly minted unethical
lawyer son convince my mother that committing perjury was the best
method to contain my justified anger - anger
justified by their ostracism, rejection and shunning. If I had realized at the
time how little respect my family had for my years of service to the family I
never would have continued attempting to work with them. I thought we were
working together but found out differently.
I was born, unfortunately or
fortunatly, depending on your
political outlook. I remember being in the womb but I don't remember being
born. I was told it was rather prolonged and that my head was fairly misshapen
by the forceps. My mother always claimed she exclaimed "Good thing he is a boy!
Look at those hands!"
Two of my ancestors fought in the revolutionary
war on the American side. My mother's great grandfather and grandmother walked
the Trail of Tears. My mother's father fled the Dust Bowl to pick oranges in
Glendora. My father's grandfather owned a farm on the Arkansas River near
Mulberry, Arkansas but died of pneumonia and his surviving son gambled it away.
My father's father, a moonshiner, passed out drunk on the banks of the river
and died of pneumonia, when my father was five, so my father had an
impoverished childhood. My father was in the military as a payroll master
stateside for two tours of duty. Both my father and mother worked for banks
when first married endowing them with a love of money.
My father was an
uneducated materialistic self-focused bigoted individual with
a huge ego - he would have been diagnosed
as a malignant narcissist as he enjoyed inflicting pain on his victims. His
deprived upbringing caused his main driving force to be making money and living
a life of entertainment. In this he was supported by my mother who grew up as
the daughter of survivors of a Grapes of Wrath dust bowl youth, in which her
father worked the groves and her mother packed oranges in the packing house.
My mother left my father less than a year into marriage and went back
to her mother who told her in no uncertain terms that she married him so she
needed to control him. He agreed to stop drinking for my mother. That lasted
until I was 16 when we saw him throwing up from drinking too many martinis
after going gambling in Laughlin's crossroad casino with his
My mother admired the fine trappings of the daughters of
the grove owners for whom her father worked and wanted to have the nice things
they had. For this to happen my father needed to make money and my mother drove
him to "succeed" with positive thinking. In
truth it was his ruthlessly competitive nature that allowed my father to
I had a hard time growing up with my parents
because they were not rational thinkers. I only realized this late in life.
Probably the main reason it was so hard for me to see their irrationality is
that they worked so hard pretending to be rational.
My mother's greatest
fault was the appealing to
authority bias. She picked and chose the things she wanted to believe and
found some semi valid underpinning for her illogical arguments by appealing to
an authority whose elementary writing she had read or some figurehead on
television. Perhaps one of the things that always bothered me about her is how
she stated emphatically that we should not believe in superstitions and yet she
was the most superstitious person I have known. I always butted heads with her
because she just expected me to accept whatever she said as truth but she never
engaged in critical thinking. My dad was the same way. He always just told me
to not bother about thinking as the jails were full of smart people and that,
rather than think, I should just conform to the never ending consumer culture
party. Oddly enough when I did they considered me and out-of-control
By the time I was born my father was a full time real estate
salesman making enough money that my mother could be a full time stay-at-home
mom. During the early years we moved many times living in a multitude of
different houses as Dad bought and sold real estate. Dad subscribed to so many
biases that I couldn't even begin to
I remember we had the pool on Foothill. I liked to take the
hose and wash down the deck. I remember I wanted the entire deck to have the
same wet color but it kept drying out. Mom said they won the pool in a drawing
at the LA County Fair. I always liked swimming. We had a pool at a house on
Mountain View later but my folks sold the place after a toddler cousin almost
drowned a child cousin.
The first time I was falsely accused of
upsetting the apple cart, my mother was giving birth to my little sister and my
father was to bathe me. He put me in the tub with my shoes on. I started
bawling. This made him upset. He took his belt off and wiped me. Then he
noticed I had my shoes on. I only remember looking down and seeing and feeling
my shoes filling with water. Mom and Dad enjoyed telling this story as they
always seemed to enjoy laughing at my embarrassment in front of
I never enjoyed getting my hair cut. I believe this was because
the first time I got my hair cut, on my first birthday, I also was given a
birthday cake with a lit candle on it down in front of me. Never having seen a
flame I stuck my finger in it. as my finger burned everyone laughed. I imagine
this is why i have always felt a little uncomfortable at birthday parties,
especially my own. Both my mother and father seemed to enjoy belittling me by
expounding on these embarrassing moments over and over. They enjoyed seeing the
flush of shame sweep color into my cheeks. They used me as a foil to enhance
their own self images.
When I was very small, we were on vacation in a
place I believe must have been Paradise, California as I remember my folks
talked of moving there. I climbed up on the hood of the green car, grabbed onto
the antenna and used it to lower myself to the ground just like Tarzan did on
the television, nearly breaking it off. Dad got extremely mad and whipped me,
again, with a belt, one of many times engraved in my memories. I curled up in a
ball under the dashboard at my mother's feet. Everyone was happy and I ruined
it by playing Tarzan. Of course this started a pattern in which I seemed to
always be "raining on the family parade."
My mother's youngest brother
liked to give me rides in the little red wagon. He pulled me too close to the
house and the end of the rain gutter nearly severed my right index finger.
Shortly after that I became very ill with strep appendicitis.
and adenoids were removed at three, had sinus and ear problems all my life,
along with the asthma. Later in life I had sinus surgery (polyps) and had ear
tubes inserted twice.
When riding with my mother's other brother in his
station wagon going up to Big Bear one of us kids vomited. And then the rest of
us did. Once when riding with him and his wife across the desert to the
Colorado river I asked my aunt about the old hulks of cars occasionally along
the road what happened to them and she told me the parasites got them.
When we lived in the house on Bennett we were getting ready to go to
the river. My mother's youngest brother was giving me another ride in my little
red wagon but turned too sharply. My head hit the concrete knocking me
thereafter, which I still have conscious remembrance of, I miscalculated when
the car was going to stop. Sitting on a bench seat Mom was driving, sister was
in the center and I at passenger side. I opened the door and stepped out, and
tumbled onto the lawn next to the driveway apron. We never wore seat belts. Mom
was always throwing her arm out to catch us when she had to stop too quickly.
My sister threw a lot of temper tantrums, especially when things were
not - in her opinion - even. This created a competitive spirit within which she
was unhappy unless being preeminent. My sister, bless her blond soul, was
conditioned and programmed to compete. I
was bigger, older and male. Not good at deception. I lost.
I remember the
house on Meda by the Recreation (Finkbiner) Park. I liked the little girl next
door. Their house was always cool in the summer afternoon cause they kept
windows and curtains closed in the morning. We had guinea pigs and I remember
the sour taste of sweet clover in the back yard that we used to suck on. Our
guinea pigs died after eating paint scrapings. My mother had an oak drop leaf
desk. My sister hated the red ants under the sidewalk. At first she liked them.
Then they bit her.
I remember having measles and chicken pox after
getting the vaccines when we lived on Laurel when I was in first grade. I also
remember a child on the street stealing the silver dollar I had on my
nightstand that had been given to me by the doctor my Granny worked for as a
housekeeper and cook. Granny lost her job when the doctor's son killed his
hypochondriac wife by pushing her wheelchair off a cliff.
I remember at
some point going back to visit the neighborhood children on Laurel after I and
fallen out of the tree in Rialto. I remember because I had to run on my toes. A
neighborhood mom had treats for everyone but me so I had to wait outside. Her
son had just gotten an "indestructible"
helmet for a present. I hit it with a baseball bat to see if it was
It was not and I was in trouble.
In school they taught me to read and
also taught me to
Cover to avoid nuclear annihilation. I remember the sequence of nightmares
when I was very young. First the big bad wolf was after me, then the wolf
became Tyrannosaurus Rex. As a teenager the police were always chasing me and,
about the time my father died, it was nuclear annihilation.
We moved to
Rialto when my father became sales manager of a tract of production homes for
Dave Slater. We had a brand new house with air conditioning which wrapped
around an open atrium type space. Dad laid new red brick walk/patio and planted
a lawn. I remember many things living in Rialto. I took showers with my little
sister at the time. We had a swing set and my sister had a playhouse. I
remember I used to grab the top bar and swing like a monkey but I needed a box
to reach it. Once I kicked the box over and slipped and fell on the edge of the
box which bruised my ribs and knocked the breath out of me.
I got a
puppy and my sister got a kitten. My sister thought the kittens whiskers were
ugly and cut them off. I remember asking for a plastic army set I saw on
television for my birthday and my mother telling me we didn't have the money
for it. Then, against all expectations, I got it, which made me very happy. I
remember playing with it with Jim and Bob but we didn't play too long before
Jim bombed the army, which made me mad. After that we sat on the couch and made
nasty farting sounds and said bad words and hooted until we got in big trouble.
We went over to a neighbors house one night that had two daughters. The
girls took me into the bedroom and showed me an image from National Geographic
of an African woman's tits. They got me in bed and loved me up. We had to leave
and I didn't get to play with them again. For the longest time I just wished I
could be back in bed with them. Dad told me that lots of mom's and dad's
crawled out the window at night and swapped partners in the tract.
Barry Goldwater was running for President and my mother supported him.
She went door to door looking for support as a Goldwater Republican. Mom was
originally very empathetic but over time Dad was able to replace that empathy
with a bigoted entitled apathy which i feel was a reaction to conditions.
I remember the two schools in Rialto that I rode the bus to everyday.
At the second school all the kids played marbles but they were played like
bowling in a straight line in a dirt alley. All the kids had marbles and
carried them in sacks. Mom made me a nice sack for my marbles but I had already
put them in a used coffee can. I liked the way the light reflected off the
marbles and the tin walls of the can so I kept them in the can even though mom
was disappointed. That did not work out well either as I dropped the can, the
marbles spilled and there was a scramble for them . I ended up with only a
couple of marbles. A remember one girl being nice and she gave some back when
they saw how upset I was. After that we were no longer allowed to play marbles
When the high desert wind coming down Cajon Pass failed the
coke fumes from the coke ovens at Kaiser Steel Mill in Fontana made the air so
thick with acrid smoke that it burned your throat and eyes and lungs. I became
asthmatic. And then the winds would come down out of Cajon Pass. One windy day
I remember finding a dollar bill in the small hedge by the edge of the
driveway. At first I was quite happy and then I remember wishing it was a ten
dollar bill instead and feeling a real letdown.
At one point they made
me take a battery of tests. Later they said I was "gifted". They later tested
my sister and said she was "gifted" too. I honestly don't think either one of
us was "gifted". I think that all the moving around created stress which, at
least for me, taught me that you better be ready to adapt to major life changes
at any moment.
Mom took us to swimming lessons where we learned to swim.
Dave Slater was in over his head as he had no experience in building
tract homes. Dave had borrowed $2000 from Dad to purchase a train full of
lumber. Dave followed in the footsteps of Judy Garland - amphetamines in the
morning to wake up and barbiturates at night to go to sleep. One night Dave
Slater ended up swinging a 2x4 at the framing carpenters because there was
twenty minutes of twilight left and they were packing up to go home. Dave
Slater died of a heart attack on his thirtieth birthday and the business
endeavor went belly up.
I remember my dad being very upset. He washed
out an ash tray and sat down to have a cigarette. I was fawning at his feet as
I recognized he was unhappy and I wanted him to be happy. His ash tray, that
had been clean, now had cigarette ash in it. Thinking he would appreciate it
being clean, I blew all the ash out. He became very upset took his belt off and
My father was then unemployed and he spent the afternoons
after school walking around the orange groves and fields with me shooting
sticks with a BB gun. He told me not to shot a bird as it would make me
unhappy. I tried it once and found out he was right. I always wanted to
recapture that feeling of closeness that I had with my father but he never had
the time for me after he got his Broker's license and started his own real
estate sales business.
I knew what was going on at the time because
after a long day at the new office mom and dad would sit at the kitchen table
and discuss their situation. My sister tried to follow me down the hall but I
sent her back to bed. I learned the knowledge that earned my real estate
associates license from listening to them during my youth.
The kids in the tract knew my dad smoked because they
saw him smoking. A couple older kids ganged up on me, got me to steal matches
from his match drawer and give them to them so they could play with matches.
One kid liked to take chances. He would light a match, throw it down it the dry
grass, watch a fire start and then stamp it out. He kept letting the fire get
bigger until it got away from him. All the kids tried to stomp it out but it
was too late and the dry grass field burned. I got in trouble for stealing
matches and burning the field down. No one believed me when I told them who had
started the fire. I was blamed as I had stolen the matches. From this time on I
was always guilty even when not guilty. My brother actually did burn a field
down but he never was caught.
My sister started telling my mom that I
had hit her when I would sneak off to explore the orange groves and fields or
climb my tree. My mom would tell me I was in trouble and my Dad would come home
and "wear me out" with his belt. I learned to be terrified of my father's
anger. My sister wanted me to play "mud pies" where the dog next door shit. My
mom made me play with her. We ended up with hook worms.
I remember the
day that JFK was assassinated as they took us all out of the classroom to sit
on the grass in front of the school. They lowered the US flag to half mast,
explained that our President had been killed. I cried like all the other
children even though I had no idea of how this would affect my life. For
several days afterward I was unhappy because the only thing on television was
the funeral procession and I missed my favorite television cartoon programming.
In the field next to our house some neighborhood boys had dug a "fort".
I was now an asthmatic with a never ending flow of mucus. Clearing nose, throat
and lungs never ended. I was always hacking and spitting. I spit on the dirt at
the lip of the "fort". A bigger older boy, a property owner/fort builder, found
my action offensive. He acted as if I spit to offend people (probably had seen
or heard of someone spitting on someone as an act of derision). Demanded I lick
the spittle up off the dirt. I refused.
There was a dirt path that lead
out into the field. As it was tread quite often it was sticker free. On
both sides of the path were extensive bullhead sticker patches. I had walked
out to the "fort" without my flip-flops (we called them Jap Flaps at the time).
I started back down the path hoping to avoid more extensive confrontation. The
boy followed me, spun me around and smacked me with his fist upside the head. I
reeled, stumbled off the path and found my feet pierced with multiple bullhead
stickers. The boy, wearing flip-flops, came after me and was battering me in
the face and head with his fists.
I didn't even notice that I was being
pummeled as I was trying to figure out how to get back to the path without
stepping on any more bullheads which were sending excruciating pain lancing
through my feet. I gave up and just stood there crying while he pummeled me. My
father was in the house. I don't know what alerted him to the situation but he
saw the boy pummeling me. He marched out to where I was and shooed the boy off.
He grabbed me by the neck and marched me back toward the house. I was bawling
my head off. With each step I took another bullhead sticker would break off
sending the thorn ever deeper into the soles of my feet. Once we got in the
house my Dad ripped his belt off and screamed "No son of mine will grow up to
be a coward!" and he whipped me with the belt.
Then he went into a
tirade of how you must always fight back otherwise you will be known as a
coward and people will take advantage of you. On Monday morning we were all
standing around the bus stop waiting for the bus to school. I was still
extremely emotional distraught over the "incident". I hated that boy. He had
beat me. He was bigger than me. A head taller. But my Dad had taught me a
"Pack your fist. Pick up a rock like this and wrap your fingers
I found the appropriate rock and packed my fist. I was
scared to death. This
boy was bigger and I still had sore feet. He sacred me - but my father scarred
me more and he had told me I had to knock this boy down. With the adrenalin
flowing I walked up to the boy, said nothing and cold cocked him. He went down
in a heap. And I begin yelling. "If you ever touch me again I will kill you!"
I felt like a god, powerful and strong. None of the other children
could play with me after that. An older boy from another housing tract did
approach me shortly afterward and asked me if I wanted to go play with him is
his underground fort where his friends would stick their penis' in the each
other's rectums and urinate. I declined. We moved soon thereafter.
Blackie my dog was my only friend at the time. He was very protective
and the same boy brought several of his friends round after I had cold cocked
him that day. "Sic em' boy!" I did not understand that boys were not allowed to
use their dogs for protection. My dog "ran away" when we moved. My mother's
youngest brother told me that my mother had him "put down".
realize until much later that I had become a target simply because I was the
son of the man that sold a bunch of people homes in an unfinished tract.
Behind our house across the road was an orange grove. The orange grove
had windrows of eucalyptus. There was one tree close to our home that I could
climb. After the bull head sticker incidence I would climb to the very top - at
least three stories - and sit and look out over the orange groves. The very
last lift I had to grab a dead branch to pull my body up. At first I was very
careful and would grab the branch at the base but the last time I climbed it I
was upset over another of my little sister's lies, grabbed it a little high and
it broke. I went head over heels and bounced off two main branches on the way
down. I remember spinning through the air and hitting my head. I bounced off a
branch on the rib cage and it knocked my breath out. A little further and I hit
another branch which pulled both my Achilles tendons. I landed on a thick bed
of leaves and finally managed to pick myself up and limp home. I never told
anyone because I knew my Dad would be mad at me and whip me with his belt. I
had to run on my toes for a year or so after that.
My father had
sadistic tendencies. I think he may have given them to my mother's youngest
brother who was even meaner than my father. He tickled me until I was blue in
the face. He enjoyed confusing people and bringing up emotional storms. He
purposefully told me things like milk was blue because he enjoyed seeing the
expression of confusion on my face. When my performance was not up to par he
enjoyed seeing the anguish of my bruised ego. His favorite motto repeated endlessly
when I tried to reason with his paralogical thinking was "Ignorance is Bliss".
was an enabler, her ignorance was his bliss. She always had an excuse for his
inability to treat his children properly. "His father died when he was five and
he never had a good role model". Although true it was used as an excuse and to
explain away my father's improper behavior. Mom always told me (not in these
words) "Your father didn't have a father so he doesn't know how to be a father.
It is your responsibility to live as if you had been raised by a man who could
have been a father to you but didn't know how because he didn't have a father.
Just continue to pretend your father was a father to you and that all the
things a father would have shown you and taught you were taught you even though
they weren't. You will be held responsible for the failure of your father to be
Although Mom never recognized that she enabled his bad
behavior she should have. Dad and her liked to talk of using "reverse
psychology" and "the carrot and the stick" method of offspring regulation. Mom, originally
empathic, became much more apathetic and insensitive as time went by as she
adopted Dad's materialistic psychology.
"At childbirth there are two
participants . The trauma of
childbirth is imprinted on the both the mother's and the child's psyche .
The trauma they both experienced of being joined, then separated, will be
reenacted over and over again when they come into conflicting contact over
worldview, as we inevitably do."
As I got a little older she grew colder toward me and began to neglect
us all. I remember when I was living on Laurel the second time around I would
try to talk to her of my feelings and she would simply dismiss them as
inappropriate. She would chime "pobrecito" and rush off to the next engagement.
She had grown tired of raising children. She wanted to be out socializing. She
became President of the Woman's Society and started hanging out frequently with
circles of women.
Much of my personal problems with my mom originated in
her inability to find my emotions valid as I entered adolescence. I recognize
that my mom, of course, did the same thing to my brother and sister. What mom
judged as valid emotions varied between individuals depending on mom's
categorization of the individual's state of mind. It was alright to be upset
under certain conditions, but not others, which also varied depending on the
Mom always had a very propaganda driven view of reality, very
cartoonishly infantile in nature, avoiding logic and reason while embracing
emotions which she defined as logical reasoning. Mom always required those
around her to adopt a Pollyanna perspective -
see no evil,
speak no evil, hear no evil - "if you don't have something good to say then
don't say anything at all".
Mom was always a poor judge of character as
one of her adult woman friends tried to seduce my father, Barbara, and another,
Marie, stole the husband of another adult woman friend after Marie's husband
died. My Mother got me to rent a room and give a job to Marie's son Rick when
he was a down and out methamphetamine addled alcoholic. He destroyed my
detached apartment as reward for giving him a place to rest his weary head. He
claimed that his problems all went back to the time when he was nine years old
and found out his mother was having an affair. Rick died of a heart attack at
52 - alone.
When we moved back to Glendora the first day of third grade.
Mrs. Clayton, who also went to our church, the United Methodist church, picked
me out and asked me how you spelled Glendora. I spelled it
wrong and she belittled me saying any
child that lived in Glendora should know how to spell Glendora by the third
grade. I intensely disliked her after that.
We were going to the river
and my mother was picking me up early from school. At exactly the same time
that I was sent to the school administrator's office by Mrs. Clayton for
keeping score inside the front cover of a math book with tally marks my mother
showed up to pick me up from school so I just left with her. The school
administrator was very upset because they couldn't find me or contact my
parents. I was terrified that I was going to be in big trouble when they found
out. Didn't have much fun on that trip to the river as I lived in terror of the
moment of revelation. The trouble I got in was not as bad as I
I remember my sister when she was in second grade was always
scratching her ass from poor hygiene and this infuriated my father, who would
slap her hand away, grit his teeth and say "Stop it!". My mother couldn't
figure out how she was gaining weight but finally realized she was buying
treats at the Rec park snack bar.
I remember the day my first cousin's
life was ruined. My mother's youngest brother, only five years older, my cousin
and me were playing pea shooter. My cousin jumped off Grandpa's old truck onto
a board with a nail in it. The nail got buried in heel bone and he ended up
with tetanus. He was never the same after. I was very close to my first cousin
growing up. He also had thyroid problems, ended up sitting around his whole
adult life, dying at 52. I believe it was because his father, a fireman, sold
bromated flame retardants on the side and bathed his children's bedclothes in
it. They all had thyroid problems.
My uncle the fireman, my mother's
younger brother, looked like John Wayne - they were Morrison cousins. He died
at 45 of a massive heart attack. My mother always told me not to be like him
and let my voice out but whenever I spoke she spoke over me. He had been
elevated to Fire Chief after leaving his wife and moving in with another woman
but the stress was just too much along with the drinking and bad diet. A couple
years before he died he said he would help me set up a cabinet building
business. I was elated initially but then came the caveat - I must be a partner
with my first cousin, who by this time, I had already recognized as not wanting
to engage in physical labor so I had to turn him down. I knew I would be the
one doing the work, as I had tried to hire my cousin before and he would be the
one enjoying the benefit of my work. He had previously been fired from the only
full time job he ever had because he told the President of the company he
couldn't get out of bed in the morning.
We moved to the house on
Laurel. When we lived on Laurel, my sister would pound her head on the wall and
when I asked her why she was doing it she said that it was because it felt good
to stop. Around this time she began to pick up anything that anyone else had
touched with a tissue so as not to contact germs. She became so neurotic as a
young adult she would be hospitalized for an overdose of water. We watched the
ridge burn from a swing on the back porch. A man and his crew of several
incarcerated boys died in the flames. The year after Glendora mudslides buried
several houses which were sshowcased in National Geographic.
grade I had a good friend that I spent quite a bit of time with. Later that
year he started crawling in the bushes with another kid and playing the skin
flute so I quit spending much time with him.
In six grade I had a good
girl friend that sat next to me in class. I went to school one day and she was
not there. They made me move from the desk I shared with her to another desk. I
found out many years later she had died of a cerebral aneurysm.
being taught about class divisions into periods so I had a math class. At the
time I could do long division in my head. My math teacher, a former marine, was
a real prick and so were his sons, who were class mates. He gave me a bad grade
because I did not write out long division even though I proved to him I could
do it in my head so I was placed in remedial math in seventh grade.
seventh grade math teacher saw quickly that I had been improperly placed and I
was bumped up to advanced math. They gave me an award - Mr. Math, for advancing
the most of any student !
In eight grade I became an evangelic. I
believe the problems started when I fell and hit my head on the ice when trying
to ice skate. My father told me that religion was a crock of shit and only
fools believed in God - we are all animals - let the fiercest orangutan conquer
the pecking order
pyramid! I had believed that Americans were building
Heaven on Earth but the Vietnam war was in
full swing, pollution was on the radar, cancer was on the upswing and people
treated each other like dirt.
I became very depressed as my brain was
inflamed. I started having stomach problems. I felt myself building
a wall in my mind to wall out the
unpleasantness. It felt to me that the social culture was trying to make me
into a narcissistic psychopath (learned those words later). I nearly got
straight A's, one B, and was in the honor society. When I showed my father my
report card he said "Why didn't you get straight A's?" . I figured there was no
point in trying to please him after that. I was never tough enough or strong
enough, but he did his best to create an Übermensch through belittling.
When I was about fourteen Dad bought a small pleasure boat. One time
Dad was driving I thought it would be funny to "abandon ship" so I jumped out.
Has anyone ever told you that water feels hard at thrity five miles an hour? As
a teenager my favorite thing to do was going to the Colorado river boating and
water skiing. I always washed and cleaned the boat after an outing. My folks
trained and conditioned me to be a fawning servant.
Unlike my brother
and sister if I wanted anything I had to work for it. I first started pulling
weeds for 50 cents an hour. A little later my father had me delivering
brochures door to door. My first big purchase was a refracting telescope from
Sears that cost $100. I delivered brochures for a nickel a piece. Over time I
would deliver brochures to every house in Glendora many times. I also was the
janitor for my dad's business for several years.
First time I remember
getting high on pills was on my allergy medicine. I took two pills at a high
elevation church camp. The second time I got high on pills was on Codeine. We
were at the river. My sister was chasing me. I ran down the dock and dove head
first into a foot of water over a concrete boat ramp. Split my head open and I
had to have stitches. Couldn't go swimming but didn't really care.
My aunt, mom's sister, was the first person that gave
me beer when she bought a keg for her brother's, my
uncle birthday when he was still underage. She came of age in the sixties and
was a left liberal feminist. My aunt idolized
Margaret Higgins Sanger who
worked with Alexander
Graham Bell under Julian
Huxley. Unlike her idol Margret Sanger, who did not like caring for her two
children, Grant and Stuart, and grossly neglected them, she never had any
It was hard to break the conditioning and try cannabis as I
was conditioned to believe it would end in a lifetime of addiction to a drug as
powerful as Heroin. I started smoking cannabis. Cannabis alleviated my asthma, helped my
digestion and killed my depression. I wrote my junior paper on cannabis
spending a considerable amount of time looking for medical reasons that
cannabis was harmful. Could not find any. Shortly thereafter, once they
discovered cannabis cures
cancer, they scrubbed the libraries of any references to cannabis. Got an A
in the class and my paper was confiscated.
As it was obvious that the
Establishment had lied about cannabis I figured they had lied about other
drugs as well. So I started using everything and anything except tobacco which
made me sick when I tried it. The
War on Drugs
resembles the 50s anti-Communist crusade - another
witch hunt aimed at political non conformists.
My mother's youngest
brother was the first person that taught me cuss words, showed me porn, smoked
hash with me. He had me call my mom and lie to her telling her we were going to
go watch the movie Fantasia. Instead we went up to Little Dalton, sat on a rock
and smoked hash. Another time we drove up to Big Dalton to smoke hash and the
cops showed up. One cop saw the hash, palmed it then dropped it in his glove.
The other cop never saw it. We were stunned but happy to not go to jail. My
mother always said that her youngest brother was not quite right in the head
because he had been jumping on the bed and fell on his head. He became an
alcoholic/meth addict that fathered several children but raised none. He is
very fond of firearms.
I bought an old '39 Dodge pickup at 15. I worked
delivering brochures to make money to fix it up and get it running. I paid to
rebuild the engine and did a lot of cosmetic work but never did get it running.
I traded it for a motorcycle that didn't run which I traded for a surf board
that an acquaintance borrowed that sank. My folks found out about it after the
fact. I believe Dad felt bad that I had wasted so much time and effort on the
Around this time I had a girlfriend whose father was a
doctor. A friend told me he got his hands down her pants and so I tried. I used
to hitchhike to Laguna Beach to see her. I had been dallying with her for a
couple years. She told me she was on the pill and I was no longer a virgin. Her
father ended up losing his practice and spending time in prison for being a
pain medication prescription mill.
One time I was picked up on PCH by
two girls in a station wagon that had not bathed for quite a while. They asked
me if I wanted to drop acid with them and "party". The hackles on my neck
raised and when we got to a red light I bailed out. I think they were Susan
Atkins and Leslie Van Houten.
My father didn't like me hitchhiking and
bought me a totally inappropriate purple dune buggy which I wrecked sliding
through a wet gutter into a head on collision stoned on my mom's tranquilizers.
(My sister got a 914 Porsche and my brother got a Pontiac
When I was fifteen my mother took me to the Human Engineering
Laboratory. They tested people to find out what they were talented at and
suggested the type of employment they should seek. They said I would be most
happy pursuing a career as a Contractor or an Architect, of course the reality
was much different than the academic reality. They noted at the time that I was
off the chart with analysis.
Around this period of time my mother decided being a housewife was no
fun and decided to go back to work so she and her best friend Barbara Miller
went to Real Estate school and got associate licenses. Dad employed them until
mom got freaked out by the way her best friend from Women's circle decided she
wanted a new hubby - my Dad. Luckily for both my mom and dad I was there to
take the pain and aggression out on. First time my Dad beat me with his
I spent a lot of that purple dune buggy summer with my female
first cousin sisters. I was close to my oldest first cousin who died in a car
accident at 31 after her boyfriend beat her. Her sister died a diabetic at 58
after 40 years of, first Hero-in, and then - Methadone after she was arrested
for attempted robbery and given State sponsored medication. And cannabis was
not the gateway drug for either of them - pills were. In high school they knew
a group of young men that made their living by robbing wholesale pharmacies. At
one point I helped them bag pills and overdosed on 'Rainbows' (seconal
and pentobarbital). They walked me around and gave me some speed so I
I started dallying with another doctor's daughter after
another friend told me he got in her pants. We were dry balling on a vacation
to the river (my parents brought her along on a family vacation) but I didn't
withdraw and she got pregnant. She had an abortion at six months and I had an
ulcer at 16.
Then my father bought a Datsun pick up for me. He asked me
if I wanted a 240 Z but I declined. Fathers in Glendora that could afford it
bought their children cars as a badge of honor. Put fifty thousand miles on it
in six months driving all over the place - the beach, the mountains, the
desert, the Colorado River, Dallas, Texas and Mount Adams, Washington. My
cousin introduced me to a friend, a couple years older than me, who ended up
pregnant the first couple of times we screwed on a vacation to Lake Havasu. She
was pregnant at the same time as the other. She was a medical assistant. She
got an abortion. I paid half the fee working as a brick tender. I ended up in
multiple crashes from drinking and driving but luckily no serious injuries
while going half mad on pills and alcohol.
I was arrested several times
for being inebriated. A psychologist tested me and told he me I was maniac
depressive, now bipolar. Interesting enough I believe that I was NOT bipolar
but became bipolar from using pills - in particularly Ritalin and Valium. As a
bipolar from a narcissistic family I exhibited the traits of either a
vulnerable narcissist, "depressive" pole, or the traits of a grandiose
narcissist, "maniac depressive.
When I graduated high school I went to
work for Dad selling real estate. I had my license on my eighteen birthday. I
tried to sell real estate with long hair tucked up under a wig. I was a total
I went to work for a local home builder. Year of hard labor
for $2.50 an hour. Then I was out at Joshua Tree free climbing when I fell and
tore all the ligaments in my right knee. Out of construction. Was going down
for the knife when started talking to a fellow at the hardware store who had
been destroyed with pain killers and 20 surgeries on his knee which ended later
being whole leg, multiple fractures, bunch of pins. Went to a different
orthopedist and he gave me a set of exercises to re-build it and I did,
somewhat, enough to get around.
Got married and Dad decided to try to
help me out by hiring me to work in construction for him with profit sharing.
First he bought two houses which I refurbished. One I bought for cost and the
other was sold for good profit. Dad loaned me the money for a down and I
started buying houses, refurbishing and reselling. I earned my Broker's license
at 21. This real estate refurbishing went well until the interest rate run up
of 1980. Was not the best to my wife during this period of time as I could be
verbally abusive, particularly in the first year. At one point I remember
saying something cruel and enjoying the reaction. I recognized my father's
cruel streak and decided to attempt to curb this cruelty. I came by it
naturally as my father,
narcissist, was verbally abusive to my mother, my sister, my brother,
myself and eventually my sons, all the family members.
worked hard, got high until I was twenty five and had bottomed out for the
third time. The first time I flipped out I learned that you do not talk to
medical personnel or they will put you in a straight jacket and tie you down.
And they really hate it when you get free. They pumped me full of Thorazine.
They had me in intensive care but I would not stay lying down. I was annoying
personnel by talking to them but not hurting anything. Shortly after this I
realized they may have been lying about cannabis but they had not been lying
about the fact that chemical imbalances due to drug use mess up your brain's
suggested he would send my through college as his real estate business was
successful. I earned an Associate of the Arts from Santa Barbara City College
and then a Bachelor of Architecture from Cal Poly. Dad helped financially by
going in with us on a house. We put everything we had from prior home into new
home as down. Dad made payments. I went to Santa Barbara City College. Three
years later I was accepted at Cal Poly SLO. At the time of the La Pita Buellton
sale Dad told me that "we" did alright on the sale but that our equity was used
up in interest. This seemed plausible as the interest rate was high. I was
never shown the books.
During our residency at Buellton, Dad asked me if
I wanted children and I affirmed this but suggested this was probably not the
best time. Dad said "there is no time like the present" and stated something to
the effect he would help us out financially as long as I was applying
The Architecture track at Cal Poly was quite strenuous. Design
lab, a three unit core course, alone took at least forty hours a week. We had
two boys. My wife's milk went sour as she had postpartum depression with my
second son so I had to do most of the infant care myself. She got pregnant
again, had an abortion and I got a vasectomy.
I loved my children and
spent all the time I was not working or doing school work with the family. My
wife was not happy being a stay at home mom and went back to work. She visited
New Hampshire and rekindled an old romance. At first Dad wanted to sell us the
business for a substantial sum but my wife had other things in mind so she
refused to sign the deal and asked for a divorce. My wife then moved back to
New Hampshire taking my sons. She moved in with her romantic liaison who didn't
want any more little children - already having two - so she asked me to take
I then traveled to New Hampshire and brought my sons back to
San Luis Obispo in the spring of my senior year. I believe I had my first heart
attack when: 1) my wife boarded me in a room directly above hers and copulated
most of the night 2) my wife's cousin verbally attacked me in New Hampshire and
3) I realized I was surrounded by enemies. I let my sons go live with their
mother in the summers which was, upon reflection, a huge mistake.
ex-wife had promised me in the divorce decree that she would not leave the boys
alone with her pedophile stepfather. She had told me early on how she had been
molested as a child by this individual. But she and her mother scurried off to
jobs and left them. And she also physically abused them as my oldest son
related to me that she had flung my younger son down from a counter she had
propped him up on.
I barely passed my final presentation examination for
Bachelor in Architecture. Not enough time to do the high quality presentation
drawings expected. Given the benefit of the doubt by professors. I graduated
Cal Poly San Luis Obispo with a 3.45 grade point average with 4.0 being the
highest. I decide not to purchase the business and think about doing something
else. Dad and Mom come to my graduation but Dad leaves in a hissy fit because I
am not happy enough and refuse to drink Champaign with him. I later realize
that although it was my hard work that got me through Dad considers it his
Dad's nervous breakdown in the real estate business is due to the
fact that the business was built on the fly with no formal structure and cannot
handle the inevitable problems negligent management and overgrowth presented.
With the interest rate run up of 1980 (Paul Volker 21% interest) many real
estate Brokers in Glendora close up shop and move in with my father who pays
them an 80% commission they couldn't refuse. My father had allowed a bunch of
criminals, 25 Brokers and agents, to go to work for him and he was being
massacred by lawsuits. New consumer protection laws had been enacted and the
ambulance chasers saw an opportunity. With two small boys, three and five, I am
asked to take over the family business. I was not going to take it until he
offered to give it to me. I felt I would be paying my family back for putting
me through school. I would not understand what a huge mistake this was until
During my time in Buellton and in San Luis Obispo I
performed all the maintenance and upgrades to the residences free of labor
charges. When I sold the houses I turned my commission over to Dad. Dad claimed
he did alright on the sale of the house in SLO actually making some money. I
was never shown the books.
I take over the real estate business in July
1987 in which my mother, sister and brother were employed.
I asked Dad
to train me. He said, " There is the desk," and walked out.
and I live with mom and dad from July until April. I paint the 5000 square foot
Big House for rent. First six months I run the real estate business my brother,
a chain smoking meth freak, who bathed twice a week, makes more money than me
answering phones and greeting people who look flabbergasted until he directs
them to an agent. He is having trouble adjusting to life without his sixteen
year old sex slave. Second year I fire my brother after multiple warnings to
meet minimum commercial sales standards in dress and demeanor when he tells me
he can't do that and needs to drive to Mustang Ranch. My brother is extremely
jealous due to the fact he was not given the real estate business or at least
made an equal partner. My sister,
narcissist, stated unequivocally she wants no part in the business as it is
too risky with all the lawsuits. My brother,
narcissist, is sent off to Hawaii where he settles down into a servile
existence broken only by the boogie board on the waves and the nightly descent
into the world of anime he shares with his daughter.
I wrote a Policies
and Procedures manual (still being used by current owner) and reigned in the
criminals which promptly left while the Black October of 1987 made me drink too
much through the holidays. My mother, sister and brother were all dependent on
income from this business. I closed 345 transactions in the three years I owned
the business. By the time I had sold it there were once again 5 real estate
offices on the downtown block. I found out the best way to get the
lawyers off your back - I simply
told them I had no assets and carried no insurance - due to Dad's lawsuits I
could not get Errors and Omissions.
I hate sales, always have, always
will because it seems to me you have to sell happiness - all Americans are in
happiness - as opposed to reality, ie. you have to sell the people the
belief that they will be happy as opposed to just selling the product. The
worst part is you have to pretend that the
consumer life style is the only valid reason for living.
mentioned that Dad had a really hard time at this period because people had
changed and everything was much more serious. He liked to "rock the boat",
"catch people off guard" and "upset the apple cart". Cognitive errors were
always masked with jokes that deflected and distracted attention. He excelled
at telling gross off colored jokes that only he laughed at. At this time he
gave up his Brokers license and quit the game for good.
My brother and
sister always wore masks around my mother and father and never spoke their
hearts to them. Always told them what they wanted to hear. They all seemed to
enjoy flattery whereas red flags always pop up with me.
Dad always told
me to look at life as a game, that I took things to seriously, but I never
could. He told me over and over that I was too serious. He never looked in the
mirror and saw what made me serious around him. He liked to brag of taking me
to the boxing matches as a toddler. He always talked about the horse races,
preferred them over baseball, and listened to them over the radio. He liked to
go to the horse races a lot and made it a quite frequent occurrence. When I was
twelve or thirteen he took me to the horse races and dropped hundreds of
dollars. He had me stand in line with him so I saw how many fifty dollar win
tickets he bought and how much he lost. He was on a losing streak and dropping
cash by the fistful. Toward the end of the day he decided to baseball the
exacta, taking all favorite combos and a couple long shot combos just to be
sure, expecting to a least hit something. And he missed. He was pissed. And he
took it out on me. It was the last time I went to the horse races with him.
When he retired he spent the first couple years spending his social security
earnings gambling at the horse races. He told me that now he didn't have to
work he could develop a system to beat the horse races. One day he got very
upset after a long losing streak and never went back. Never became a gambler,
became ultra-conservative instead.
Dad found a sweet heart deal on a
property in 1988: quarter million for three contiguous lots - double lot with a
house and two vacant lots with orange trees. Dad used his Keogh retirement
fund. Dad sold me the lot with the house for $150,000 and carried back a note
at 10% interest which he then sold to my grandfather. I began work on design
and development of the house. My father was so "engaged" that when I asked him
if he wanted to see the architectural drawings of the project he declined.
The real estate business nearly destroyed me and it destroyed my faith
in people as I found very few that were not entirely self-focused and many
bearing criminal intent. I saved my sister from a nasty environmental lawsuit
(could have lost her home) by digging the motor oil out of the ground myself.
Around this time I have another heart attack. I save my mother from a nasty
lawsuit by telling the lawyer prick that belittled my mother to bugger off as I
had no assets and no insurance therefore nothing to steal.
felt that my father was trying to help me when he sold me the business but
looking back on it was just wanted out but wanted the family to still be
employed. They really didn't care if I swam or sank. He actually said at one
point he didn't think I could do it. (That is how I learned how to swim - swim
or sink. Dad threw me in the water and said "swim or sink!")
too much as he always has. And as the absent father he was to me he is also
absent from my sons lives. Surprised me once to catch him sort of babysitting
my sister's son at Grand Burger. He let my sister's son run wild throughout the
fast food joint. Never took my sons to the park, never took them to a movie,
never even took them out for a hamburger. Unrealistic to run real estate
business , raise kids, obtain Contractor's license, start construction
business, operate household, design and build house all at same time. Not
building the house fast enough while running real estate business, obtaining
contractor's license and starting fledgling construction business - Dad demands
a large interest payment and informs me the clock is ticking.
never really believed in disciplining her precious son. She decided that
spanking was not such a good idea after relying on it to get the upper hand
over me by lying to my parents about my actions. So, initially, instead of
spanking her son she just used the suffocation method to calm him down. Later she grabs his
favorite toy and jumps up and down on it smashing it to smithereens when he
refuses to obey.
1990 economic indicators looked iffy and my cousin
made an offer I couldn't refuse so I sold the real estate business to him with
the provision that immediate family always make 80% on sales. Mom, the only one
active selling real estate splits commissions with my sister but I never get a
I design, develop and build a single family home. Dad had decided
it is smart to wait until when we predict a market uptick. I predicted a three
year downturn in 1990 but it ended up being a five year downturn so I made very
little for two years work. The house was built and "for sale" when "normal"
economic cycle was expected to pick up. No luck. House sold for less than
expected - both of us disappointed.
Total cost of development and
building $125,000; value of land
purchased for $50,000 - Mom sold it to her clients for $275,000. in 1994.
(Resale 2011 is $575k. Two speculating owners each made $100k.) Told originally
that the money is there to build without paying interest but, apparently, as I
have taken far too long to build the house Dad uses an accounting entry to
saddle the project with a huge interest bearing loan. First Dad says there is
no profit and then gives me $17,500. I never am shown the books. Purchase a
truck for $17,500. Free and clear lot later sold for $100,000. Dad asked if I
wanted my cut on the land - my share
being $50,000 - but I told him that since I had not been able to make interest
payments to Mom on her loan (inherited her father' note) for a period of time I
would take nothing. This makes up for the principle reduction Mom takes on her
loan when we are finally able to qualify for a sub-prime loan and pay the
principle of the loan off in full. I had begged my mother to take an interest
reduction from 10% to 7 % but she refused and we were no longer able to make
When I stopped paying on the mortgage I had put 4 or 5
payments on a credit card. My wife had gotten laid off from Home Savings when
Washington Mutual gobbles it up. We felt - by really scrimping - we could meet
the payments if the mortgage interest rate was reduced from 10% to 7%. Up until
this time I had made all the payments on my own. Mom told me she needed that
money to help my brother and sister and therefore could not reduce the interest
rate. She asked me to pay off the loan but I could not qualify and my wife was
laid off. I remember thinking at the time that there was the possibility she
could foreclose. We could not afford current costs so figured if it happened we
would just start over somewhere else. Mom had already stopped listening to any
reason at this time not understanding that you cannot tender what you do not
have - "squeezing blood from a turnip or water from a rock". She verbally
stated, at the time, that if we "paid off the loan balance" she would be
satisfied and not hold us to the unpaid interest.
I decide to do all
construction labor myself so as to avoid employee regulations and just hope I
would be able to keep my head above water. I was met with mediocre success and
would not have been able to keep my head above the rising tide except for my
wife's income. Although I finally got a couple design build jobs mostly all I
have done was remodels and small jobs. My original architectural dream was to
be a Small Scale Master Builder but the lack of capital always precluded that.
I finally gave up trying to build a design-construction business after
Things seemed to be going
along well enough, considering, - until September 11, 2001. I lose scheduled
jobs as people retrench.
I am informed shortly thereafter by my youngest son
has chosen to be homosexual. This sends me into a tailspin. I feel God has
abandoned me and then I realize that my concept of God is faulty. I begin to
reevaluate everything I have seen and heard throughout my life. I begin
studying philosophy and Zen Buddhism searching for wisdom which I find in the
Middle Way. Begin to recognize the
Veil of Cognition that
blinds most people. I begin to understand cognitive bias,
blindness, illusions that lead
to errors in judgement, fallacies
that lead to errors in judgement, effects that lead to errors in
judgement and miscellaneous
thought patterns that lead to errors in judgement.
I started to
pull out of my funk when my oldest son Ryan claims that he may be homosexual.
In attempting to communicate with him I learn that he has gone to a "church"
retreat where he was counseled to remove me from his life because I yelled at
his nine year old friend when that friend changed the drive designation on my
business computer as a joke years before.
The "church" turns out to
be nothing but the personality cult of Che Ahn. It becomes obvious at this
time that both my son's had been molested by my ex-wife's pedophile stepfather
and possibly step siblings.
After thorough attempts to understand and
through some blame casting I come to realize that they just know in their
hearts that a female will abandon them like their mother did, or torture them
like my mother and sister do, and that males can be nurturing as I
When we go to Dad's brother's funeral my father refuses to take
the oxygen that he needed due to the emphysema after smoking two packs of
Marlboros a day for fifty years. He claims he is weaning himself off oxygen. My
mother and sister accepted this. He stood there, with his lips blue, analyzing
his siblings and mother. "**** was a giving person. He was different than me
and Mom. We were selfish."
In the summer of 2011 my 91 year old
mother-in-law fell while visiting her son out of state and shattered her thigh
bones above a artificial knee. Complications kill her a couple weeks later. The
day she died my father, in late stage chronic obstructive pulmonary disease
from smoking - out of his mind much of the time due to lack of oxygen, exclaims
"Who cares about her! Look at this stick I carved!"
Whenever he is short
of oxygen he is not thinking clearly and does foolish things. One instant was
after shortly being home from first hospitalization demands that I go along
while he takes his motor home down for a smog check. Literally scares the hell
out of me riding with him. Notes his blood oxygen is low but doesn't want to
inhale oxygen. My mother and sister spent their lives attempting to placate the
angry beast within my father.
My mother-in-law dies the day before
Father's Day. We missed the scheduled luncheon on Father's Day.
father-in-law comes home, has a heart attack and is hospitalized.
week later I am spraying the cathouse for ants. Rhett, my cat, thought I was
feeding him and jumped into the still wet insecticide so I grabbed him and he
landed a claw in my middle finger knuckle joint (metacarpals/hamate) which
became infected. (Rhett passed away from lung cancer - and I know he didn't
I ended up hospitalized. First they give me a DPT shot and then
three Gentamicin intravenous drips with follow up oral doses of Ciprofloxacin
which carries a "black box warning" - the equivalent of a skull &
crossbones. Cipro is capable of unleashing an entire SYNDROME of systemic
toxicity - "fluoroquinolone toxicity syndrome." 30-40 different adverse
symptoms are suffered simultaneously and often last a
Cipro-induced toxicity syndrome wreaks absolute havoc on every
part of a person's body - every tendon and joint in the body can become
affected, every organ (including the brain), peripheral nervous system
(resulting in severe and potentially permanent pain conditions, dystonia,
muscle weakness or autonomic dysfunction), vision damage up to and including
temporary blindness, retinal tears and/or permanent double vision, permanent
tinnitus (ringing in the ears), long lasting or permanent central nervous
system damage (including relentless insomnia, memory problems, random
chronic fatigue, multiple chemical sensitivities, severe muscle wasting, hair
loss, skin changes, severe dryness issues (dry skin/eyes/mouth/nose) and
extensive dental damage. Cipro is toxic to ALL connective tissues including
muscle/bone/fascia/skin/nerves/even cartilage. Degeneration of the cartilage
matrix in humans has been observed following as few as two oral doses of
Ciprofloxacin. People have also suffered osteonecrosis (bone death) as a result
of taking this drug. Cipro is not permitted for use in patients under the age
of 18 as it can interfere with the development of a child's still-growing
connective tissues. Cipro induced toxicity is often misdiagnosed as an
auto-immune diseases such as multiple sclerosis, since many Cipro-induced ADR's
mimic those of auto-immune disorders. Other favorite misdiagnosis's include
reflex sympathetic dystrophy (also called chronic regional pain syndrome or
CRPS), fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, scleroderma, Reynaud's syndrome,
Gentamicin is an aminoglycoside antibiotic composed of a
mixture of related Gentamicin components and fractions and is used to treat
many types of bacterial infections. It is synthesized by Micromonospora, a
genus of Gram-positive bacteria widely present in the environment (water and
soil). The drug binds avidly to certain tissues. Gentamicin can also be highly
nephrotoxic, particularly if multiple doses accumulate over a course of
treatment. For this reason Gentamicin is usually dosed by ideal body weight.
Various formulae exist for calculating Gentamicin dosage. Also trough and peak
serum levels of Gentamicin are monitored during treatment, generally before and
after the third dose is infused. Gentamicin, like other aminoglycosides, causes
nephrotoxicity by inhibiting protein synthesis in renal cells. This mechanism
specifically causes necrosis of cells in the proximal tubule, resulting in
acute tubular necrosis which can lead to acute renal failure. Side effects of
Gentamicin toxicity vary from patient to patient. Side effects may become
apparent shortly after or up to months after Gentamicin is administered.
Symptoms of Gentamicin toxicity that
I experienced included: balancing difficulty, ringing in the ears (tinnitus);
difficulty multi-tasking, particularly when standing (anger breakdown at 149
over removal or leaving door).
symptoms related to Gentamicin that I experienced included: confusion and
disorientation. Other side effects I experienced included: loss of appetite, a
severe intestinal condition (Clostridium difficile-associated diarrhea enhances
with glyphosate) which may occur during treatment or weeks to months after
treatment has stopped.
Many medical practitioners freely administer
Gentamicin as an antibiotic without advising patients of the severe and
permanent potential ramifications of its use. Gentamicin is well known to be a
cheap, low-cost yet old medicine when compared with modern alternatives, and is
typically US$3-6 per dosage less than modern alternatives. Many people recover
from Gentamicin toxicity naturally over time if the drug is discontinued, but
they recover slowly and usually incompletely. Sometimes the toxicity of
Gentamicin can still increase over months after the last dose. Upon cessation
of Gentamicin therapy symptoms such as tinnitus and imbalance may become less
pronounced. Do not use anti-diarrhea products or narcotic pain medications if
you have any of the following symptoms because these products may make them
worse: diarrhea, abdominal or stomach pain/cramping, blood/mucus in your stool.
This is not a complete list of possible side effects.
We had given work,
for the reason that we needed a laborer, to my mother's brother's 27 year old
grandson. He became a meth addict in high school, joined the Marines to get
clean, doped with psychiatric
drugs, learned to dope himself with massive quantities of alcohol, five
weeks solitary confinement under exaggerated charges (includes suicide watch
which means you have only a pair of boxers in a cold stone room) -
ex-girlfriend jealousy - then dishonorably discharged. I did not know he was
borderline psychotic alcoholic when we gave him work.
single-family detached unit needed major renovation - leaking roof deferred
maintenance for years - 201 Wabash.
Laborer was spun out on hard alcohol
when we started work on 201. Pancreas failed shortly thereafter and he was
hospitalized with Type I diabetes. I was able to keep working but only through
eating cannabis and smoking cannabis after work for which I had a prescription.
Eating cannabis kept the Crohn's/ Celiac /Gout/ Arthritis (multiple autoimmune
disorders) at bay (which had actually been improving over the preceding two
years) while the smoking cannabis reduce the pain. My strength evaporated. I
became exhausted. I injured myself and the injuries would not heal.
fell and Mom calls for me to lift him. I end up with a herniated abdomen. Dad
hospitalized and ends up on respirator. Wants to go home to die so goes on
hospice. Mom and sister disassociate and freak out over out of network costs.
Get help based on cost. Complain about service. Mom and sister living in denial
attitude frustrates me. Demand I do seriously stupid thing of trying to get
wheel chair over sunken living room to bathroom. I balk but finally relent.
Re-pull abdomen muscles.
Replace odd commercial/theatrically pink wall
hung toilet in bathroom with handicap model. Takes 12 hours with cast iron
sewer re-piping. Completely exhausted. Physically broken.
Dad is putting
on a Sunday slide show. I ask Mom to notify me of start time. Assume she is
going to church. I sat on the couch, next to the phone, exhausted waiting for
the call from 10:00 until 2:00 - without turning on the television which I
seldom watch or picking up a book, just too sick and tired - then I finally go
up to the Big House. When I get there I was surprised to find no gathering and
Mom very angry with me because I had not just come up.
Dad out of his
mind. Using opium to breathe. Dad passes.
Over the past couple years
Dad had became quite upset with me multiple times for simply not agreeing with
him. I try to play cards and make a joke with him about being called "preacher"
when he was a child by his sister Marjorie (who told me this) and Dad flies
into a rage. (She called him preacher because he was always ordering people
around.) So I no longer try to play cards. Dad could be a prejudiced bigoted
bully that was hard to agree with, in particularly when he made outrageous
personally insulting remarks for which he never apologized.
and mother both supported him in his endeavor to humiliate me. My mother and
sister distracted my angry Father by pointing the finger at me and suggesting
that I needed correcting - in particularly when he started in on one of them.
My sister and mother enabled, supported and made into a pattern the manner in
which they would deal with his bad temperment by deflecting it off themselves
and redirecting it onto the Scapegoat - me!
For the last
two years of his life my Father suffered from COPD. His pride refused to allow
him to use oxygen. He claimed he was weaning himself off oxygen. His mind was
not all there during taht period. In the end he was using opium to open his
breathing passages. My sister and mother entirely overlooked his cognitive
decline claiming that he was in his rightg mind even when his lips were tinged
blue due to the lack of oxygen. I suggested they take his car keys away because
he would go somewhere without oxygen and by the time he got back he would be
stumbling drunk on carbon dioxide poisoning.
Mom comes over shortly
after Dad passes. Mom tells me Dad wanted me disinherited - doesn't elaborate -
but tells me not to worry. I am shocked, surprised and distressed that Mom
would entertain such an idea from the mind of a man that had progressed back to
a childhood mythological way of thinking due to lack of oxygen and opium. After
my father died my family became totally unreasonable. I can only make
suppositions but perhaps it had to do with not wanting to be involved with
planning and executing memorial services. As no one was listening to what I had
to say I figured there was no point in saying anything. Shortly after Dad died
I went up to the Big House four times over a period of two weeks. Every time my
nephew attacked me. His favorite method of
messing with me was in spouting logical fallacies and then being
amused at my anger at his idiocy. This coming from a 'lawyer' with a post
office box for his legal office. After the fourth attack I quit going up.
Cannabis clinic closed over minor infraction. Totally exhausted ... in
major pain ... can't eat, can't sleep, can't even drink beer ... zombie mode
... feel like i am dying ... the chemotherapeutic drugs side effect storms hits
... radically change diet to 'living food' ... no alcohol ... lose 30 pounds
over the next three months ... ketosis figures in ... so does baking soda. At
this time I began noticing multiple attempts to control through coercion
directed at me by extended family.
My brother gets fired from job,
leaves wife and asks to work with me then moves back in with mom. Fundamental
perspective: girl "Christian counselor" embraces boy without a conscience
bringing him into her corrupt Pentecostal vision (female sexual domination
included - rapture to be postponed).
Mom likes to excuse my brother
saying "He never had a chance" while pointing to the fact that he did not enjoy
the benefits of an advanced education. My son has a doctorate and teaches
classes at junior college . My other son has a BA in English and works part
time in real estate answering phones. My sister has a MA and teaches part time
a couple classes at junior college. My nephew is a licensed unemployed lawyer.
I had an Architecture degree, a Contractor's license and a Real Estate Broker
license and did hands on construction work . My brother got an education in
aberrant psychology at Teen Challenge which he used to alienate my mother from
me to save face with his daughter.
Cascade of units need work. Seven
units in 10 months - 2 major remodels, 2 major rehabilitations - not being paid
- carrying costs. Mom claims this is a fluke. Not a fluke as I had been after
Mom for at least three years that two tenants were destroying units and needed
to be evicted - they moved out at the same time. Another tenant has sub
basement rent as Mom felt sympathy for her, died after 25 years of chain
smoking in the rental unit. At the end she would sit there in her chair smoking
with her oxygen tank between her legs, puff of oxygen, puff of
By this time I have lost thirty pounds. I feel I need to snap
out of the decline and I drink two six packs of beer. I start ranting about
"corporations" but what I am really unhappy about is the fact that Margaret had
promised me storage but failed to deliver as well as the fact that they had
been treating me very oddly. I wanted this storage to make maintenance easier
as we needed a place to store full sheets of plywood and drywall, doors and
other large objects. I only found out nearly two years later that they had come
to the conclusion that I was insane from using Cannabis and had settled on
exclusion and excommunication as the method to
deal with my "drug use". It is unfortunate that they while they could see
effects they could not understand causes. Drugs definitely messed me up but it
was not Cannabis - it was DPT shot, Genatmicin and Cipro.
My uncle the
recovering alcoholic/meth freak/adulterous child abandoner/violence worshipper
takes the working crew shooting and I am purposefully excluded and taunted.
Then he shows up at my house out of the blue one day and demands I go hiking
with him up the West Fork. I tell him to bugger off in a nice way.
and Sister attack me, five years design school resulting in degree in
Architecture, over subjective design decision of three doors or two in front of
the working crew as I want to remove an extraneous door to reduce
My aunt calls me yelling in a very angry voice and demands I
replace a broken tile on a job done twelve tears prior.
the full force of their coercion.
Last unit, non-ADA compliant, to be
rented to 93 year old man. Family battle ensues between me, 34 year licensed
real estate broker against nephew freshly minted law school graduate and beach
bum brother over detailed copious reasons to reject and path to take versus "no
call back" (real estate understanding).
I recognize I do not have the
strength to fight over every trivial detail. I am not being paid in a timely
manner. I have no working funds - everything going on credit cards. No capital
to renew Contractor's license and bond. Family clearly impossible to work with
as they are unwilling to cooperate or listen to legitimate concerns. Can't go
to sleep. Have a stroke. Now walking in the
Garden of Nirvana
pronoia state. I drop off the keys and say I need off until the next
There was multiple reasons I dropped the keys off:
not getting paid in a timely manner;
was attacked over subjective
design decision -"three doors or two?";
"closet door - grown woman smashed fingers - door on/door
Mom fails to police tenants: One day on going to the units
to do some work I note that my mother has allowed a tenant to erect a above
ground pool on a concrete slab behind the unit. Children are jumping off the
roof into the pool. I suggest to my mother that she has allowed a dangerous
condition and needs to have the tenant remove the pool. Tenant moves out and it
is my fault because I called them on the pool.
Mom has religiously
challenged tenant who calls the Los Angeles Department of Health out to inspect
the property she is living in because she doesn't want to pay for an old
aluminum screen her daughters kick a soccer ball through. Mom has promised me a
storage area in which to store sheets of plywood, etc. occupied by a tenant
that passes away from complication of COPD and diabetes. Practically before her
body is removed from the property our religiously challenged tenant has emptied
the garage she has into the storage unit promised me for years on the passing
of the COPD diabetic. I balk and ask Mom to have our religiously challenged
tenant remove her goods but she supports our religiously challenged tenant.
I am deep into rehabilitation of a house with a
leaky roof and ten years of deferred maintenance and my health is deteriorating
rapidly. I go up to the Big House and discuss with Mom the details of the
project. I mention that I want to remove a door between two rooms as it is
extraneous. Mom agrees. The next day in the middle of the work day mom shows up
with Joy and angrily demands that I leave the door in. It makes me very upset
as I am just getting ready to leave to pick up needed parts at the hardware
store and am now being attacked in front of the workers on the job. I leave the
door in and work around it which slightly increases costs.
that communications are so poor that someone is always going to be the fall guy
and decide I would rather be the fall guy through lack of action than action
that is disapproved.
Straw that broke this camel's back was promised
storage (storage taken by tenant) to make maintenance easier not tendered. This
made me reevaluate all verbal promises past and present and finally see them in
their proper light - verbal placation with no intention of actual performance
Mom wants me back at work and I have no income so I make the
mistake of agreeing to return for smoke detector check after the first of the
My son graduates Cal Tech. As I am already upset over "transhuman
tones" (conquer nature) of Elon Musk's commencement speech I have a heart
attack after the ceremony when my nephew verbally attacks me.
recuperate and catch up on deferred personal maintenance around the homestead
including preparing truck to go back to work. During this period of time I bare
my heart multiple times remembering
traumatizing events from the past. They choose to judge me mentally
I had been after my mother for years to stop running around
putting out fires and have prepared systems in place but they are never really
needed as I responded at the drop of a hat.
I once again suggested the
following be put in place to deal with rental business:
needs separate phone line from residential line.
responsibilities: tenants need to be told their responsibilities in a written
addendum to the contract and be informed in the same document of the landlord's
responsibilities in plain language.
Focal points: Tenant is responsible
for - electric, gas, watering yard, etc.; landlord is responsible - yard
maintenance, water, etc.
Journal: every phone call from tenant to be
booked in journal - twofold purpose, acts as a memory device and records
reality for lawyers, bankers and
Business Principle: Proactive not reactive -rather than
running around putting out fires you make sure that there is no tender to start
fires with; rather than fighting law suits you avoid them through smart
Emergency 911: there are no urgent emergencies that the
landlord should be notified of; if the water is leaking tenant needs to know
how to turn off; if the electricity is off tenant needs to know how to reset
breaker; things may be URGENT but the only EMERGENCY is FIRE : CALL 911 !
Appointments for repairs: never on the day of reported problem unless outside
service - ie drain cleaning; time slot - between 8:00 and 12:00 - same as ALL
Tenants: start one year lease - go to monthly after that
only at request; no cosigners - bad credit means irresponsible (or ejected from
the system); no handicap - not ADA compliant; no "friends" - tends to be
someone who will not be rented to by others; no government dole - ends at noon
tomorrow once rejected by system and then they have six months free ride.
After several months recuperation which includes attempt to catch up on
deferred maintenance of truck, home, yard and workshop I attempt to go back to
work with my brother. Mom asks me to replace a wall heater so I do with the
help of my brother. Work six hours, need three days rest after. Toward the end
of the installation I suggest my brother light the pilot on the stove but do
not monitor him. Find out later he pretended not to know the difference between
a stove with a pilot light and one without. Purposely destroys the tenant owned
unit which mom is forced to replace. Brother makes the claim to mom that he was
not properly trained and therefore it is my fault that he destroys tenants
property. Later fails to follow instructions to override faulty thermostat and
blames his ignorance on me. Mom buys the myth but I am unaware.
after mom to do smoke detector checks third week of January every year to
develop pattern. She does it when she gets around to it after taking care of
social engagements first. I need to get back to work as I am flat broke but it
takes until late February for mom to get around to calling for the smoke
detector check. Arrange to do the job with my brother. Brother wants to drive
his own vehicle but I suggest we go in my truck and work together. When we
arrive at the job sight I dig through the keys my brother brought and find one
is missing for the units we are about to check. My brother tells me, "If you
had let me drive my truck I could go get it now!" . He really doesn't like to
work preferring to mostly just screw around watching anima, reading comic books
and sorting baseball cards. I say, " You are no better prepared than Brad." At
which point he walks off up the street and turns the corner heading back down
Foothill towards my house where he left his truck parked. I start to walk
toward the units to check the first detectors while thinking about this being
the third or fourth time he has lost his temper and walked off the job. My
heart grows heavy and I decide to give up. Got in my truck and drove home as I
see this is just not going to work. I leave the keys on the hood and he comes
gets his truck and takes the keys.
My brother had already lied on
multiple occasions to placate Margaret to save face. Try to talk to my sister
but she has more important things do than talking to me- like protecting my
brother (she wrote his Junior paper so he could graduate high school.) Mom
always acts as if without her I would be nothing as this is true of both my
sister and brother who are financially dependent on her.
I go back up to
the Big House with the intent of asking my mother to actually listen to what I
am saying as opposed to talking over me and jumping to false conclusions. Mom:
"I hear you are going to build a chicken coop. I will give you the money for
the coop if you give me fresh eggs."
I told her I already built the
coop and did not need her money. Probably made her mad as Mom and Dad used to
come and harvest the best things I grew for themselves when I was at work. Dad
particularly liked to strip my pink grapefruit. This is the type of disrespect
that Dad and Mom showed me my whole life "we provided the capital so now you
are our servant". I call it "royalty syndrome". My sister thought it cute to
play into the flattery game and took acting classes to perfect the role of
grateful servant. I rejected the premise that you can make people happy by
flattering them. Apparently it would have been much better to use flattering
(brown nosing ass kissing) lies than tell the truth.
A family summit
meeting occurs in Santa Barbara from which I am excluded: note marked change in
attitude - no longer note feigned friendliness toward me after this point.
Brother's attitude vicious. Hear multiple assurances that legal shenanigans of
shell ownership changes will not affect me.
Couple weeks later Mom
comes by and pulls me out of bed (sick - wife home in bed sick as well). Mom
says she has neglected a tenant who has been without hot water for 4 days.
Legally Mom guaranteed "habitable" premises which in California includes hot
water. The tenant had already called the Los Angeles Health Department out for
minor infractions which included a torn screen the children ripped with a
soccer ball. Mom suggests I deal with it as she has a planned luncheon date out
of town with a cousin. I suggest she call a plumber to make a temporary repair
and that if she can find me someone to dig the trench, like my brother, then I
can do the plumbing when I feel better. She calls a plumber who does the work
for twice the going rate and then blames me that she overpaid.
of intolerable stress to break a weak man ... 30 days of intolerable stress to
break the average man ... 45 days of intolerable stress to break a strong man
... all men break ...
I call a meeting to attempt to find out WTF is
From the day Dad died until this final meeting I was looking
for three things from my sister, brother and nephew: compassion for my health,
gratitude for a quarter century service and respect for me as a human being. I
saw none of these things from any on these three individuals.
final meeting I asked for these ground rules: Everyone gets a chance to make
their presentation; when a person is speaking that person will be allowed to
continue until they signal that a question may be asked; listeners write down
questions if you think you will forget; a moderator will be chosen by common
consent; this is to be a rational logical emotionless discussion - not a
debate; if someone becomes overcome with emotion then that person will take a
walk around the backyard and the discussion will be suspended until emotions
are in check; Mom goes first and gives us a general outline of what she and Dad
wanted and what she still wants; general discussion about property management;
brother will give us his business plan; sister will give us the balance
statement of the properties ; nephew will give us his ownership report;
questions asked and answered; joint property management agreement negotiated.
Holding the following points in mind: 2% of gross to myself - oversight
- tenant screening / evictions/ contract review / contractor
analysis and approval / site
analysis /future predictions ; 2% of gross to sister - books - deposits -
primary contact remittances ; 2% of gross to brother - day to day on the ground
public relations - primary contact for maintenance - primary contact with
subcontractor on the ground. Fees to start now - remittances to be charged
against account with proper book keeping entries. Construction work to be
outside of management agreement. Special projects to be outside management
agreement. Changes to original agreement to be approved unanimously.
the 3 way off-the-top-even-split proposal acceptable in principle as far as
property management goes? 2% of gross to myself- oversight; 2% of gross to
sister - books; 2% of gross to brother - day to day on site management. If so
we move on ... otherwise negotiations are over ...
format rejected at initialization of meeting process. Jesus is the forefront
emotional focal point. Immediately discover sister is mixing business expenses
with Mom's living expenses. See the need for proper spreadsheet division or
separate accounting systems upon glancing at tender document.
immediately rejects any future partnership possibilities right off stating: "I
am taking my share when mom passes and going my own way."
apparent at the meeting that neither my sister nor brother was interested in
anything to do with the rental operation outside of the fact they are assets
with a cash flow. No point in spending time building something that has no
future. Their attitudes and statements ends all negotiations. My wife thought I
was being foolish when I told her that my brother, sister and newly minted
lawyer nephew were messing with me in a major way but, luckily, she actually
saw their reactions and heard their statements at the final meeting.
She agreed with the conclusion that they were being duplicitous. At the
meeting what I saw: requested formal meeting format which lasts for less than
10 minutes; nephew states " I represent the Trust"; Mom starts telling me,
resolutely, how sentimental emotions dissolve all barriers if you just believe
in Jesus; brother becomes agitated; sister feigns fear, taking the role of a
deer caught in the headlights; told, in no uncertain terms, that since I
threatened a "property management settlement agreement " sister and brother
will not work with me; the decisions have all been made; I see there is nothing
left to discuss and walk off.
I was looking for 4 things:
willingness to compromise
2) apology for condemnation of behavior due to
health issues and their bad manners
3) appreciation of familial service
over a lifetime
4) appreciation for my part in the wealth creation
My intent was to discuss how to set up a viable business plan that
would work for us all. For me to work with them at that time I needed them to
focus on rational logic reality of creating a viable business structure with
clearly defined procedures and responsibilities outlined as i could no longer
work under the haphazard negligent management of Margaret.
extremely upset and try to talk to Mom about her
duplicity, her lack of understanding,
her abuse of me and her failure to engage as a manager as Mom lives in a static
reality without change while she stubbornly sits there telling me I have never
contributed to the family. Mom tells me I have nothing whatsoever to do with
the familial wealth creation. I yell in her face "What the fuck is
wrong with you !" and storm out. Next
day bring back detailed account of Dad's and mine - now apparently - 'secret'
dealings as recounted above. Finally I understand why dad was always saying
"Ignorance is Bliss" - Mom's ignorance was his bliss.
I know for a fact
I had a part in the wealth creation. I kept maintenance costs down which freed
more money to pay off loans amounting to an advancement of the payment
schedules - less interest paid over time equals more equity. I never received a
salary. When I took over the real estate business I employeed my family and
protected them. When I sold the business I guaranteed the family 80%
commissions and even though I never received any remuneration as Mom always
split the commissions with my sister.
But males must never get angry
and raise their voices, "If you don't have something nice to say don't say it"
so she doesn't hear me. Didn't hear me when I talked in conversational tones
but does hear me when I finally yell "What the fuck is
wrong with you !" and storm out except,
apparently, it keeps ringing over and over in her mind as one face yell turned
into "multiple bursts of ten to twenty minutes."
A couple short
conversations with one act of yelling, "What the fuck is
wrong with you !" and a meeting at a
restaurant, through the magic of an act of perjury, turned into a 4 day assault
-"Each day between 02/25/13 and 02/28/13 **** yelled at ***** enraged, getting
closer than three feet to her face, for multiple bursts of ten to twenty
minutes, during conversations that would last for several hours." This is the
major falsity of a string of conflated and falsfied accusations made by my
nephew as he knew what the minimum requirements to grant a Restraing Order
consisted of and carefully checked them all off to guarantee a stamp of
"severe, continuous emotional distress" -- my son who lives
my Mom told me she was upset for 4 days.
"claiming that she taking
benefits of his work over a year" -- -- the length of time I served my mother -
25 years not "a year" and I performed no work at all the year in question as my
brother walked off the job
"Lawrence published false statements to
other family members claiming his mother uses and is addicted to opiates." --
-- told them they lacked mirror neuron circuitry - sister banged head on wall ;
Mom "arthritis medication" ; brother - meth - this was because they showed
absolutely no empathy to me over a period of over a year. (In 2013 Mom was
hospitalized due to renal failure from "arthritis medication".)
attempted to arrange a meeting to form an agreement to deal with managing the
units in a systemic proactive way as opposed to a reactive way as it has been
done over the past 20 years. Documents to this effect are given. Find out
brother and sister taking substantial cash flow for trivial tasks and that
sister wants to liquidate the non-existent business that happens to have a
business license. At this point I discover that I have been targeted to remain
out of the cash flow but that now that I have discovered such they will
generously give me the same amount that my sister has gotten the past twenty
years - $1000 a month.
From the day Dad died until this final meeting I
was looking for three things from my family: compassion for my health,
gratitude for a quarter century service and respect for me as a human being. I
saw none of these things from any family member but my mother. My mother was
the only one that had asked about my health. I told them the truth about my
health, heart attack and stroke, when things began to deteriorate and before
they placed the Restraining Order but they choose not to listen, instead
chosing to attack me with full force.
I then had a nervous breakdown. I
literally blew a gasket. I write a few letters and make a few phone calls until
a Temporary Restraining Order is served. No contact but they still convert
Temporary into Permanant. Their rejection and exclusion broke my heart and my
psyche goes into a tail dive.
When I moved back to Glendora in 1987 and
made the mistake of thinking I was working WITH my family. I finally realized
too late that I had been working FOR my family in a servile capacity. Even
though my mother claimed to be a Christian she did not even qualify as a True
Torah Jew as she lead me to the mountain top and stuck a knife in my
When the Temporary Restraining Order was initially served I was
unable to respond as I went into shock at the seriousness and conflation of the
accusations. I had been starved for cash for the past 9 months and have no
savings so hiring a lawyer seemed extravagant. I actually felt that since the
facts were so grossly misrepresented in the Restraining Order and that they had
had Mom perjure herself about the 4 day assault my family would wake up and
note that reality. To my chagrin before this occurred family was my highest
priority. Unfortunately while I considered the fact that I took care of their
physical needs as sufficient they actually wanted to be flattered and raised
onto a pedestal.
My sister, brother and nephew deliberately bore false
witness in concert understanding full well that I would then be unable to ever
commit to any action in relation to them as they could always conspire to agree
to lie in concert again. My nephew branded himself to Mom as a "legal expert".
Once he chose to represent my sister, my brother and my mother in a legal
action against me I recognize he can never represent my best interests. My
sister, brother and nephew did this with a callous disregard for both Mom and
me in an effort to protect their income flows and get the only experienced
businessman out of the way so they could strip the assets of wealth. My
brother, sister and nephew conspired to eliminate me from the rental business.
There is no doubt in my mind that my sister, brother and nephew conspired to
drive me out of the decision making process. This was done mostly to capture
cash flow at the time and to have me disinherited so they could split my share
of the inheritance once Mom passes.
About two months after the
Restraining Order was placed my sister followed me around in Stater Brothers
grocery store. Walked by me twice when I was standing at the meat counter.
Second time looked me straight in the face and smiled with malice. Not a trace
of fear in those darkly shadowed eyes.
believe this break in the covenant of faith was due to Mom's enfeebled
condition due to "arthritis medication" use leaving her with major memory gaps
which are filled as required by the false
narratives of my brother and sister which fantasizations are solidified and
embedded with the help of the unemployed unethical lawyer. These three have
conspired to embed false memories to libel and defame me.
My mother, brother, sister and nephew are
passive-aggressive emotionally manipulative sentimentalists, as was my dad, who
mistake self-focused sentimentalism for love. In Biblical times sentimentalism
was equivalent to idol worship or
living in an idolatrous manner. Decisions are made arbitrarily based on the
emotion "this makes me feel good" not on reasoned thought or
logical analysis. Spent a good
portion of my life looking out for my family even though they never liked it
when I warned them that "appearances are deceiving".
My main mistake was
fidelity to family as that fidelity was not reciprocated. Although my family
claimed to be Christians they did not act in a truly Christian manner but
rather in the Zionist manner of choosing to shun a sick member rather than
nurturing that member. Although my family claimed to be law abiding and abide
by the rule of law the truth was they just were concerned with manipulating the
law to gain control and power over me.
I had three major falling
accidents in life, discounting the tree fall and the car accidents, where I
failed to seek medical attention and never fully recovered. I fell while free
style rock climbing in Joshua Tree and tore the ligaments in my right knee at
19. I fell while roller skating in Santa Barbara and blew my left shoulder out
at 24. I fell while water skiing in Oklahoma and tore muscles in the back of my
left thigh at 34. Also fell off of ladders multiple times - I ended up with
slipping disks in my spine. I ended up
with a slipping cartilage in my neck from a beam over Mom's kitchen window that
fell on it when my helper at the time failed to follow instructions.
The Graeae, or the Grey Sisters, were
three sisters in Greek mythology who shared one eye and one tooth among them.
Their names were Deino ("dread"), Enyo
("horror"), and Pemphredo ("alarm"). My mother, her sister and my
sister channel the spirits of the Graeae Sisters. They all channel misandrist
feelings - blowback from the
Perhaps one of the best examples of these three women's
lack of sensitive was seen when I first remarried. The Graeae Sisters invite my
new wife out to lunch. At lunch they talk over her and do not allow her to
speak. The conversation between the Graeae Sisters revolves around my ex-wife.
Needless to say my wife did not enjoy going out to eat with them and was wont
to repeat it.
My father verbally abused my mother and she came to hate
the parts of me that remind her of him. And she demands absolute control over
me as she thinks I am as him. She just wanted love from him but had to settle
instead for adulation from a circle of friends. But that adulation was
expensive as it required a mansion for entertaining guests. And all the
accoutrements to outfit said manse.
I first noticed my mother's
inability to follow my instructions after promising to when she asked me to
teach her to run a computer. I spent an hour showing her basic operations in
windows so that she could run a word processor. Before we started the lesson I
told her that she needed two hours to learn. The second hour was for her to go
over the process that I had shown her multiple times so that it would stick in
her head. She chose to do other things besides her homework and then two weeks
later asked me to show her the same things again. Her time was always valuable
while my time was always hers to squander. Our relation continued to
deteriorate over the next several years.
problem continued to escalate between me and Mom over time due to her
increasing need to be correct and prove me incorrect. Mom, brought up on
religion, thinking in a
mystical narrative manner, wanted things a certain way but failed to listen
to what was feasible and what was not feasible. An example: I was ordered to
remove closet doors because the woman that was renting for her daughter (Azusa
Pacific freshman) was concerned that her daughter might smash her finger in the
closet door which was a sheet of plywood in a built in cabinet. I informed my
mother that I could remove the doors but removal would require destruction and
they could not be easily replaced as the cabinet would have to be rebuilt. She
ordered me to remove them so I did. When the lease was up, one year to the day
later, my mother ordered me to reinstall the doors. I told her they had been
destroyed in removal and could not be replaced. She became angry at me for
non-compliance but she failed to take into account the feasibility of her
orders. Instead of understanding that what she asked was unfeasible she just
prejudicially assumed that I am being contrary!
My sister never had me
over to her home for a meal although I always welcomed her (we had to prepare a
special meal for her as she is not eating what I am serving). My sister decides
never to spank her son so she lays on him from the time he is two through his
third year until he passes out every night. At the time I suggest she reduce
his sugar consumption. Nephew is expelled from an elementary school - a knife,
a middle school - reformats administrative computer and a high school -
threatens teacher with a shotgun and accused of planting bombs. Nephew tops 350
lbs at twenty seven. Neurotic sister succumbs to never ending compulsions
without reasoned thought nor logical analysis. Likes to tell
the story of almost killing herself by drinking too much water.
sister always lived in fantasyland. She married her pen pal, a foreigner,
without spending any real time with him and found that he was not the white
knight in shiny armor that Disney had taught her to expect. Although she fooled
herself into believing that fantasy when she was first infatuated. One child
and an early divorce made her a single mother. She went back to school to study
English and then got her Masters in feminism studies. Wrote her thesis on the
enslavement of prostitutes in the Wild West.
My aunt thought she had
found love but in the course of the corporate high life she found a new
infatuation. Unfortunately said infatuation was married with children that he
was not going to abandon. Pregnancy, abortion and sterilization. Corporate
travelling gal from here on out that can fend for herself - until she gets
raped. Now she needs a protector so she settles for her copulation buddy. After
living together for two decades he gets cancer and then they marry.
Each of these women hate men subconsciously for different reasons but
they see all men only through one jaded misandrist eye.
Lucky for some
of us that had to live with them they only had one tooth with which to tear the
juggler out of a man and could only cause substantial bleeding in one juggler
at a time.
back to stacks
This web site is not a commercial web site and
is presented for educational purposes only.
This website defines a new
perspective with which to engage reality to which its author adheres. The
author feels that the falsification of reality outside personal experience has
created a populace unable to discern propaganda from reality and that this has
been done purposefully by an international corporate cartel through their
agents who wish to foist a corrupt version of reality on the human race.
Religious intolerance occurs when any group refuses to tolerate religious
practices, religious beliefs or persons due to their religious ideology. This
web site marks the founding of a system of philosophy named The Truth of the
Way of Life - a rational gnostic mystery religion based on reason which
requires no leap of faith, accepts no tithes, has no supreme leader, no church
buildings and in which each and every individual is encouraged to develop a
personal relation with the Creator and Sustainer through the pursuit of the
knowledge of reality in the hope of curing the spiritual corruption that has
enveloped the human spirit. The tenets of The Truth of the Way of Life are
spelled out in detail on this web site by the author. Violent acts against
individuals due to their religious beliefs in America is considered a
This web site in no way condones violence. To the
contrary the intent here is to reduce the violence that is already occurring
due to the international corporate cartels desire to control the human race.
The international corporate cartel already controls the world central banking
system, mass media worldwide, the global industrial military entertainment
complex and is responsible for the collapse of morals, the elevation of
self-centered behavior and the destruction of global ecosystems. Civilization
is based on cooperation. Cooperation does not occur at the point of a
American social mores and values have declined precipitously over
the last century as the corrupt international cartel has garnered more and more
power. This power rests in the ability to deceive the populace in general
through mass media by pressing emotional buttons which have been preprogrammed
into the population through prior mass media psychological operations. The
results have been the destruction of the family and the destruction of social
structures that do not adhere to the corrupt international elites vision of
a perfect world. Through distraction
and coercion the direction of thought of the bulk of the population has been
directed toward solutions proposed by the corrupt international elite that
further consolidates their power and which further their purposes.
views and opinions presented on this web site are the views and opinions of
individual human men and women that, through their writings, showed the
capacity for intelligent, reasonable, rational, insightful and unpopular
thought. All factual information presented on this web site is believed to be
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may or may not have originally presented the facts truthfully. Opinion and
thoughts have been adapted, edited, corrected, redacted, combined, added to,
re-edited and re-corrected as nearly all opinion and thought has been
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