"...have you noticed..."

If you're actually reading any of this ya may notice that I swing from bright'n cheerful full of hope to grim apocalyptic  mayhem. One right after the other...hey sue me.

That's just how I roll.

However there was a time I was totally unaware of this...made my pals crazy. Anyway this is who I am. A mix of hope, and hell. The people, and institution that did this to me got clean away with it.

Sort of like them teenage bullies that raped me in day camp when I was 11. I never told anyone because there was no point. Everybody else was beating robbing or humiliating me till them radio-active cows came home.

Anyone remember them?

They were pretty damned well radio active in them daze because of all the happy jolly 'in atmosphere' hydrogen...not mere atomic bomb comrades. Rather these maniacs were detonating for real actual 'end of the world grade' "HYDROGEN BOMBS!" out in the bleeping open. 

Proud of it too.

So with all that going on I figured a bit of unauthorized rape was no big deal. "Unauthorized" in Day Camp. Juvenile Hall was another matter totally. Even as a little kid I heard the horror stories from slightly older kids of what went on them Agony Factories.

So my life became one of horror, and sunlight. The sunlight when I was able to escape to some of my better relatives. Horror at home, and school. 

My folks were not abusive by the standards of the day. I think the line ya had to cross for that would be to actually 'kill' your kid...that was frowned on somewhat. Anything else was fine..teachers too.

A bit of flogging or being smacked across the room was good for you. Hey a grown man or woman. In my case teaching Nuns or Brothers in their 30's to 40's. A full grown adult hard smacking a 10 or 11 year old,...well do the math.

I recall well hearing kids in the next class hitting the wall.

That's when it wasn't happening in front of me or to me. Of course today these maniacs will be in prison...not jail, but federal prison for all that fun noise they liked so much. As it is they went to meet Jesus clean as a whistle.

Well as my assorted shrinks over the years have told me this is why I am as I am, and write, and do the art I do.

Really? No kidding.

Thanks Doc.



Stay Tuned.