The description below sounds more like Microsoft!
No it doesn't.
Where is a Microsoft advocacy group that has anywhere near the
traffic, or number of oddballs that comp.os.linux.advocacy has?
The Windows advocacy group is dead.
You obviously have zero knowledge of the Linux community.
I have quite a bit of knowledge of the wackjobs in the Linux
community.
Whether or not they, collectively qualify as a cult I'm not sure but
it looks that way.
Here is a comic strip that describes the Linux community to a tee.
http://www.adequacy.org/stories/2001.11.26.101258.24.html
Snip***** a whole bunch or ramblings by Rex Ballard*********
Linux depends almost entirely on Word-of-Mouth.
Speaking of *mouth*, aren;t you that Linux transvestite that gave a
bartender a blowjob so you
could meet a waitress and then it turned out that she was a lesbian?
http://www.open4success.org/bio/Auto03.html
Like I said, the Linux Community is rife with sickos, perverts and
oddballs.
Here is the complete truth, in Rex's own words;
(This one is for the gang over in alt.psychology, maybe you can help
Rex Ballard )
**********You Are One Sick Dude Rex Ballard
******************************
An Epic of Tranformation
copyright 1997, Rex Ballard
The Full Story
Loretto Heights College
When it came time to choose a college, I chose Loretto Heights. It was
a woman's school with only a handful of males, most of whom were gay
or engaged to students or faculty. I saw it as a chance to get bigger
parts, and a chance to be "one of the girls". It worked. By the middle
of the first semester, I had free run of the entire campus, including
the women's dorm after midnight. I was trusted and had earned and
honored that trust. Eventually, I was made a
I did have to prove myself on the stage crew. On my first day, hey
gave me some of the nastiest jobs, including cleaning out the paint-
well, where the stage crew would urinate, where the saw-dust was
swept, and where a number of dead cats had been thrown. I spent 12
hours with a bandana over my mouth, shovelling the stuf out. When I
came out and said cheerfully "The paint-well is clean, what's next",
like I couldn't wait for my next really fun assignment, the crew
decided I was O.K. In fact, I had outlasted 5 other freshmen and a
sophomore. I was even singing while I shoveled and swept. I did get a
few other hazing jobs, but was quickly accepted as part of the team.
At Loretto Heights, this was the closest thing to a fraternaty, and
since theater was also a key source of revenue, it was also like being
on the football team.
I didn't get romantically involved my freshman year, partly because I
really had never learned dating skills. Many people thought I was gay.
Most of the women just accepted me as a close friend. I was good at
just treating them like people rather than as somone that I wanted to
have sex with. In many ways, I had more intimacy with more women
because I wasn't trying to get them into bed.
Unfortunately, singing at Kit's every night caused some damage to my
vocal chords and my 3 octave singing range was reduce to 2 1/2, which
meant the leading roles in Musicals were not an option. I managed to
get minor roles in 4 shows my first year. Sally Waldman taught a stage
movement class and with her coaching, I was able to eliminate
curvature of the spine and a number of other posture and movement
problems which had plagued me for almost 15 years. What 3 years of
corrective shoes couldn't do, Sally did in 6 months.
The first year was a bit like "boot camp". We had to sing, dance, act,
direct, build scenery, work production crews, and dozens of other
functions. In addition, I was earning part of my tuition through a
work-study program. In addition, I was also composing and arranging
music, and working in productions, and carrying an 18 hour course
load. I'd start my first class at 8:00 A.M. and finish my last set of
rehersals at 1:00 A.M. before driving home. In my spare time, after I
finished my homework, I'd bone up on the latest advances in
technology. During christmas break, I built ham radio equipment and
tried to get familiar with digital circuit theory.
I spent the summer selling CB radios, actually cashing in on the boom
I'd started the previous year. I also seemed to do well with
electronic parts and stereos. That summer I earned enough to pay for
my part of the tuition.
Pansy
That fall, I started living on campus. I met Debra Jean Miler, but she
liked to be called Panzy, because it was her favorite flower. She
claimed she was the "class slut". She tried to pick me up
unsuccessfully the first night we met, and tried again the following
afternoon. She was very beautiful, I loved her very direct approach,
and I also very much enjoyed her willingness to just be friendly and
talk. She was someone I saw first as a very good friend, then as a
beautiful woman. Before long, I was going down on her, stone cold
sober, and enjoying the experience of watching her go completely out
of control. When she started to reciprocate, I started shaking,
trembling, even to the point of seeming to be in terror. She asked
what was wrong. When I told her I was a virgin, she decided that
reciprocating might spoil me into becoming selfish.
That night, she asked me out again. There was a knock on the door. It
was her boyfriend (which I didn't know she had). She quickly left, in
15 minutes, another knock on my door had me opening the door to a
double barreled shotgun pointed directly at my crotch. I was told that
if I ever [had intercourse] with her, that he would blow my [guts]
off.
The next night, Pansy told me that it was OK for me to go down on her,
but that Don would kill me if I [had sexual intercourse] with her. It
was a wierd double standard. For the next 7 months, I became Panzy's
"lesbian" lover. She even told me that with her eyes closed, she could
see a woman in her mind's eye. During this entire period, she was also
having sex with nearly every other guy on Campus. Every night after
dinner, I would be the "warm up", then she'd go with her "flame of the
day", then she'd come back for hugs and affection. I was very much in
love with her, and all the "playing around didn't seem to bother me as
long as she was happy and enjoying herself. We continued this strange,
sometimes frustrating, always interesting relationship until she fell
in love with a Saudi "prince", who wanted her to be his first wife.
His family wasn't so keen on this and eventually forced him to return
home and marry his promised First Wife. We remained close friends for
several years.
During this Sophomore semester, I was again carrying an 18 hour load,
doing work-study as a stage-hand, and doing 2 shows as a performer. In
addition, I was taking more directorial responsibility and was leading
light crews, sound crews, and set construction crews. Again, I was
working from 7 A.M. to 1 A.M. 6 nights a week. My time was scheduled
in 15 minute increments, even the time between classes was scheduled
to make sure that I could manage business or rehearse a scene or
handle an issue as we walked. I would rehearse over breakfast, compose
music during lunch, and work on scenes during dinner. Pansy and I
would get together for an hour after dinner then she'd go on to some
guy and I'd finish my homework. In addidition, many of my classmates
had started using speed to try to keep up. I got very good at helping
them get through the mess. I was doing it without drugs, but I had
been there.
Alone and Crazy - Again
I went into workaholic mode when Pansy left. I was taking a "Masters
level course" in theater management, and was writing a huge business
proposal. I was working from 6:00 AM in the morning with my first
scene rehearsal to 3:00 A.M. at night. On sundays, I would sleep in
until 10:00 AM before going to church. Eventually, the killer work
schedule started having it's toll. I was starting to get a bit
paranoid. I would take pictures of my room to see if things were being
moved while I was out (it appeared as if they were). I was also
starting to get interested in computers.
I also got the role of Ciaphas in J.C. Superstar. This was a great
time to be able to express my faith, share the message, and be in
theater at the same time. It was a spiritual experience, but it also
left me feeling very lonely and very vulnerable. In addition, I
learned how to "act like a man", it often meant walking around for
hours with 20 lb weights around my wrists and ankles. I wanted
desparately to fall in love. I even went on a date with Debbie Stuart.
She couldn't love me. Later, she ended up pregnant by Mike Durand. I
even offered to marry her if she was willing. She decided to put the
baby up for adoption instead.
I spent the summer of 1976 working as a stage hand. I was also the
stage manager for the summer production, which is the person who has
to do the groundwork to make sure that the director gets what he wants
for the production. In addition, I had to function as a lead carpenter
and help the technical manager draw plans. I was also doing scenic
design work, and doing the carpentry. Since I wasn't on stage, and I
was only a stage manager and stage carpenter, I partied a bit more
than I should have. One day, I had smoked some "Thai Stick", I went
back to work and almost cut my arm off with a radial arm saw.
Fortunatately someone pulled me away before I did any actual damage. I
prayed to God for help.
It was only at this point that God told me this was part of my
"training". Later, at the cast parties and the parties that followed,
I could see the lonliness that people who were heavily intoxicated
were feeling. I would reach out and hug them. I became known as
"Father Rex", because, although I didn't wear a collar, I was clearly
expressing God's love and compassion. I had already had some
experience talking speed freaks down from a week of speeding for
finals. I was quickly known as someone who could make a difference
with people who had drug problems.
That fall, I returned to school, after spending a month in the
mountains with my parents and pretty much cleaning up my act and
talking to God alot. I started the school year clean and pretty much
sober. I drank a bit at the start of the semester, but I was enjoying
being BMOC (one of the few males to survive 3 years of LoHi girls). By
now, the local Mu Phi Epsilon sorority had made me an honorary member.
I also did more shows and plays. I even found myself enjoying a social
life (but not a sex life). Things had slowed down a bit from the
previous year. I was actually doing more, but I was doing it more
effectively. I was directing scenes, coaching actors, I had a role in
the winter musical, and was generally having fun. It was another 18
hour load.
I was working in the Media Center and was able to use my electronics
knowledge to wire up a televison studio console, complete with 4
monitors, 3 cameras, and mixers for video and audio. In addition, we
had a video tape recorder. I used it to tape some of the scenes from
the directing class.
I also became very good friends with Bruce Rux. Bruce used to tease me
about my faith, but he also respected me. We got to know each other
and really liked each other. Of course, the best thing was that I
could tell him who I was "In Love" with each week. He would laugh
because he knew I would be nice, they would ask me to do favors for
them, and then they would let me know that they weren't interested. At
the end of the semester, I knew I would not be coming back. I didn't
have enough money to pay for the following semester's tuition. My dad
was having trouble with booze and drank my tuition. I moved back home.
Araphaho Community College
When I realized I couldn't go back to LHC, I decided to enroll in the
local Community College. I ended up at Arapahoe Community College. It
had a video production course (which I took), and several good
business courses. I had realized that I needed to learn business
skills if I wanted to make a living in theater. I took almost pure
business for 3 quarters.
They also had a theater production planned for that semester, and I
auditioned. At the time I still had a full beard (from playing Ciaphas
the previous year), and I was cast as the King in the Cave Dwellers. I
liked the whole cast. It turned out that many of them were psychic and
were willing to help me develop my own abilities. I also met Connie
Mohr.
Connie Mohr
Connie was absolutely beautiful to me. She looked like Linda
Rondstadt, was a model, and bought her clothes at Fredricks. She also
seemed to be so sweet and innocent, yet a bit wild and kinky at the
same time. I was still very bashful. I had a crush on her from the
first day that I saw her. Finally, a mutual friend had to literally
introduce us, ride home in the car with us, and ask me if I wanted to
kiss her. He asked her if she wanted to kiss me. Pretty soon it was
obvious that the interest was mutual. She gave me her number.
The next night, my father and I started drinking together. Soon we
were arguing and I told him I was pissed because he had drank my
tuition money. Eventually, it got to the point where mom sent me into
the back room and when mom tried to calm dad down, he hit her. My
brother and sister had to tackle me and sit on me to make sure that I
didn't beat the living daylights out of my father. He had never hit my
mother and hadn't hit me since I was 6 years old, even to spank me.
Mom simply called the police, who took them downtown and tried to talk
my mother into not putting him in jail. When Dad promised to go into a
treatment program, mom took him home.
That friday, I took Connie out for our first date. I was amazed at how
mature she was. We watched Silver Streak. She loved Gene Wilder in his
white pants. When the show was over, we had a snack and parked. We
started kissing and she seemed to enjoy everything I was doing. I even
gave her cunnilingus. She told me she wanted have intercourse. I
reached into my wallet and pulled out a nice fresh condom. She asked
why, I told her I didn't want her to get pregnant. I didn't even ask
if she was on the pill.
I couldn't get it up. She asked what was wrong. I sang "pardon me
Miss, but I've never done this, with A Real Live Girl" sort of singing
it. She just started beaming a huge smile. She chirped, "your a
virgin?". I told he "Yup, I'm a 21 year old virgin and I have no idea
what to do now". She told me to call her the next morning so that we
could go out again.
I called early the next morning. She told me to come over around noon.
I came over, met her mother (actually her grandmother, her brother,
her sister, and her brother-in-law. I even met the dog. They were
going to the race track and would be back around 6 PM. We got
something to eat sat on the couch. Pretty soon, we were kissing. She
led me into her bedroom. It was beautiful, with stuffed animals
everywhere, and a double bed with a pink canopy.
Finally after about 3 hours, she was completely satisfied and was
ready to stop. I hadn't had an orgasm and hadn't lost my erection the
whole time. I told her "I guess I'm impotent". She smiled and said
"isn't that wonderful?". We cuddled for about an hour before we
finally got dressed. When we were all dressed, she said "you're still
a vigin, but we'll fix that later". We went on several dates and she
came to my house a few times. We made love several times but I still
couldn't have an orgasm. She eventually got her own apartment and we
started making love there. By this time, I was clear that I wanted to
marry her.
One night, I asked her if she had any special fantasies she'd like to
fulfill (I'd fulfilled several already), and she put on Alice Cooper's
"I love the dead". I asked if that meant she wanted to make love to a
corpse. She said, "No, but I want you to play dead". I laid on the
bed, completely limp and relaxed. Pretty soon she had maneuvered me to
a spread eagled position and was tying me to the bed. I was a bit
scared, but I just kept my eyes closed and played dead. We had been
together long enough, I felt I could trust her. When she finally told
me I could open my eyes, she was sitting on top of me wearing an
outfit that was obviously from fredricks, and looked like she had
fallen in love all over again. She told me she wasn't going to let me
go until I had an orgasm. I suddenly realized that I had always
focused on how to make it better for her. Powerless to reach or to
move, I could only relax and enjoy the sensations. It wasn't an S&M
scene, but rather a simple way to get me to stop focusing on her
pleasure and start experiencing my own. Between the surrender, the
slight fear, and the outfit, it took me about an hour to have my first
orgasm with a woman.
In a few days, I asked Connie to Marry Me. We announced our engagement
to the parents. My dad warned me that I needed to finish school. We
decided to wait until after I finished school to get married. I had
taken maximum loads each year and only had one semester's worth of
credits left to meet the requirements for Graduation.
Alcoholics Anonymous
Shortly after this, my father ended up in an Alcohol Treatment
Program, my mom started going to al-anon, and I was required to attend
some al-anon and A.A. meetings as part of the "family program". Connie
spent her spring vacation in California for two weeks. I remember my
first A.A. meeting. I laughed at all the funny stories the speakers
were telling. At the end, I laughed and said I almost wish I was an
alcoholic, you guys seem to have a lot of fun. They asked me why I
laughed so hard. I told them because I had done many of the same
things. I suddenly realized that I might be an alcoholic. I didn't
drink often, but when I did I almost always got drunk. I even got
drunk with Connie a few times. I was a pretty nice drunk when I was
with Connie, but I was still drunk. When she came back from her trip,
she had a horrible cold and the doctor put her on antibiotics. She
kept using the pill, and I assumed everything was fine.
Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, I have new material for you.
Life suddenly got very interesting. My father confessed to embezzling
money from our church. My mother demanded a divorce. My father tried
to slug the treatment center director and ended up in restraints at
the same psychiatric hospital that had shocked my mother every day for
a month several months in a row. They wanted to electro-shock my
father. My mother decided to move out, told me I could stay in the
house until it was sold. To top it off, my 14 year old sister had
gotten pregnant (her boyfriend told her they only needed a condom
during her period and she didn't know any better) and ended up getting
an abortion.
Loosing Connie
One night, after I had a bit too much to drink, I started looking for
my car keys to go home. Connie had decided that she wanted me to spend
the night with her. I ended up calling my mom to get a spare key. The
next morning, there was a note tucked under the wiper. It was a "Dear
John" letter. She told me that she couldn't see me any more. I tried
to talk with her several times and eventually she let me in. She told
me she'd met a man who could buy her a Jaguar and a big house and she
was going to marry him. I drove home doing 75 mph on a 35 mph road,
running every stop light. I got home and took enough tegretol,
dilantin, and booze to kill a horse. When mom found me, she took me to
the treatment center. I was too old to be covered by my father's
insurance and my college insurance had just expired, so they wouldn't
admit me.
Free-Falling to the Bottom.
My training was in it's final phases. I got a job as a stage hand at
the Country Dinner Playhouse, and got fired. I got a job as a store
manager at Radio Shack and sold the first computer before it even
arrived, and got fired. I even worked as a waiter and got fired. I
finally ended up living alone in the big house, trying to kill myself
without committing suicide. In a matter of about 3 weeks I had become
a full-blown drug addict and I knew it. I was overdosing every night
on over the counter drugs, antihistimines, tedral, and Nyquil. I'd
wake up in the morning to a shot of mouthwash.
I tried taking antabuse. My dad had left it in the medicine cabinet
when he was home on his last visit. I took it every day for about a
week. That Friday, I went to the A.A. club and met a young man named
Jack at the bottom of the steps to the York Street club. He asked if
this would really work. I told him "of course it will work". Jack M
went upstairs, I went to the Tipsy Tiger club...
The Tipsy Tiger was a place where women took off their clothes while
other women get the patrons to buy them $20 glasses of "Champagne". I
had a Brandy Manhattan and suddenly found myself getting very aroused.
The girl who was drinking my champaigne decided I was under age and
carrying a fake I.D. and told me to leave. I was so innocent and had
no experience with this type of environment, so it was easy to see why
she was suspicous. I decided to leave. On the way home, I picked up a
pint of apricot brandy. When I got home, I chugged down the whole
bottle, figuring that I would get really horny. Instead I got the urge
to ride a bicycle. I rode my little sisters old bike to the bottom of
the block, then I realized it didn't have any air in the tires, and
that I was feeling very sick and couldn't breathe. I had completely
forgotten about the antibuse.
I went up Forest Street, the street behind mine. I literally walked
the bike from one crack in the sidewalk to the next crack in the
sidewalk. Each crack got more and more difficult. By the time I got to
the top of the block, I could barely stand up if I leaned on the bike.
I had lost the feeling in my legs, couldn't throw up because I hadn't
eaten and the brandy had already gone well into my intestines. My
liver was pumping "embalming fluid it my veins as fast as it could.
Just as I was about to lie down on the couch for the eternal nap, the
phone rang. I was all set to hang up when the woman's voice on the
other end of the line told me she was an obscene caller. I told her I
was an obscene listener and to go ahead and talk. She started talking
sexy for about 2 minutes before I started crying. I was about to hang
up again when she just asked me to keep talking. She asked if I was
all right. I told her I'd just drank a pint of brandy on anabuse and
was about to go to sleep. She kept me on the phone for almost 3 hours
before I finally started sounding coherant and capable of getting
through the night without forgetting to breathe.
Hitchiking on the Road to Recovery
I realized that God had used the only means I would have listened to
that night to keep me alive. I asked him for help. I started going to
A.A. meetings for a few days. They suggested 90 meetings in 90 days. I
also called the local mental health center and asked for an intake
interview. Before I made it to that intake though, I went off the deep
end. My mom had given me some money to buy some hamburgers. I had been
living off he change and my sister demanded that I give her the money.
I told her no, and she pulled it out of my hand. I hit her about 3
times in the chest before she got out of the car. I gunned the engine
and ran 3 red lights before I finally came to my senses. I realized I
was out of control. I asked God for help NOW! I went home, crying, and
told mom I needed help. She took me to the local mental health center
for an emergency intake. They put me on a 72 hour hold for
observation. I was told not to worry about the bill, it was sliding
fee and I would be paying $5/month regardless of what was needed.
Bethesda
In the hospital, I met some amazing people. They were just like my
cousins who had killed themselves and a few who hadn't killed
themselves yet. At the end of the 72 hour observation, they decided to
put me in a half-way house. I was either manic-depressive, paranoid,
schizophrenic with homocidal and suicidal tendencies and post
traumatic stress disorder, and had some severe issues with women, or I
was an alcoholic and a drug addict. It took them almost a month of
outpatient treatment to begin to sort it all out.
I got a job while I was in the half-way house, selling stereos at a
discount store. I was about to be put on disability when I got the
job. I knew that God was intervening again. I started working in the
afternoons and going to outpatient treatment in the mornings. My '61
Rambler had reached it's last legs after almost 200,000 miles and
having been disassembled and having a hole punched in the radiator
when I slammed the hood wrong. Even the bright green radiator plug
couldn't keep it working. Pretty soon, I had burned out the engine for
the last time. I drove it, smoking and choking, to the lot where I
traded it, and $600 in cash, for an Opal Cadet.
Bouncing into the Gutter.
About this point, the treatment program showed the Father Martin
"Chalk Talk" film. I shared that I only knew that I drank and I had
problems. I couldn't tell if the drink actually caused the problems.
The therapist suggested that I try 30 days of controlled drinking to
find out. I started innocently enough, with a beer with the boss. By
the end of the month, I literally became a toxic waste dump. On the
last night of the experiment, I had been smoking Tai, snorting white
powders (coke and crystal), drinking brandy, taking thorazine, and
being a really lousy poker player.
When I got to my car that night...It wouldn't start (thank goodness).
I tried to fix it (the car never ran again). I finally decided to walk
10 miles from southeast Denver to downtown Denver through the nastiest
neighborhoods I could think of. On the way, I started picking pieces
of broken class in the street and washing them down like pills with
cans of beer. When it was too late to get beer, I switched to Dr
Pepper. By the time I got home, I had swallowed about 1/4 pound of
ground glass. I put some more of the glass I had collected onto the
counter, broke it into a fine powder with a hammer and a rolling pin,
and mixed it with a large snifter full of cheap wine. I chugged that
down and went to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I looked up and said, O.K. God, I'm
not dead and you won't let me die until you're good and ready. What do
you want me to do? I didn't tell a soul for 4 days. Finally, on that
Friday morning, I told my group what I had done. They were pissed, but
they asked me to call the emergency room after the session anyway. I
called the emergency room and they said "you can't be alive after
that". She conferred with the doctor and came back to the phone. She
said that for some reason (probably all those drugs, alcohol, and soda
pop), my digestive system coated the glass with a protective jelly to
keep it from cutting me to pieces. I was told to watch for signs of
blood and that when I went to the bathroom and saw sparklies, I was
probably in the clear. I eventually did pass some very large pieces of
heavily coated glass. The only person who experienced any suffering
was a psychic friend of mine who couldn't believe I was standing up.
Acceptance and Recovery.
I eventually stabilized. I knew I was an Alcoholic and started going
to meetings as well as daily group tharapy. I even went on a few
dates. I wasn't anywhere near ready to have sex again (I wanted to,
but it just wasn't working out). My friend who introduced me to Connie
was now dating two really beautiful women (two timing them actually),
and I just kept picking up the broken hearts and putting them back
together so he could break them again. My grandfather helped me buy a
good car (a 1968 Chevy Impala Wagon in mint condition).
In January, after personnally selling over a million dollars worth of
stereos and selling some of the first VHS VCRs over the Christmas and
Superbowl season (it helped to sell VCRs that the Broncos were in
their first Superbowl), I finally returned to Loretto Heights College.
I don't know how I'd managed to save up enough to pay the down
payment, but I had enough to meet my tuition and get back in. I had
also taken a test that gave me two full years of college equivalancy
in English, Social Studies, Art, Science, Mathmatics, and Humanities.
I was told that I still had to complete my last two years at LHC to
graduate from there. This meant that by the time I graduated, I would
have over 7 years or over 200 semester hours of college equivalency.
The biggest problem was that I couldn't be in the Musical because I
had to work at the store.
I had an apartment off campus and could go to work, school, and
theater. I also listened to the Radio. I had become a big fan of Alan
Berg. Eventually, about the first of April, the store cut my hours to
the point where I couldn't afford to buy gas. I auditioned for a show
in Colorado Springs and got the job. I was actually going to be a
professional actor (and sometimes a waiter). I was doing South Pacific
as Chorus, and Marcus Lycus in A Funny Thing Happened on the way to
the Forum.
When I got to the "Old Town Dinner Theater", I started working very
hard, got very good, and learned to "quip for tips". Pretty soon I was
making as much in tips in a night as I had made at LaBelles in a week.
I also fell in love with Robyn Bonnet, the director, who did NOT fall
in love with me. In fact, I was so bashful, that I finally wrote her a
note the last week of the show. Two days later, she announced her
engagement to a guy she called "ferret face" at the end of the week.
Loretto Heights College - the final chapter.
I came back to LHC for my final semester with a broken heart, a
battered ego, and a fear that I was going to graduate Loretto without
ever having a LoHi lover. I started sharing "big brother" advice with
my new roommate, and assumed I could trust him the same way I trusted
Bruce Rux. It turned out that this new roomie was gay, wanted a gay
roomie, and figured the best way to do it was to tell the faculty
every little "secret" I had shared, with a few little twists of his
own. According to him, I was blackmailing every member of the faculty
and that is how I had managed to get back into the school. At least
that was what he was telling everyone, including upperclassmen and the
Faculty.
Suddenly, my senior year of College, my last semester, was turning
into a nightmere. I was told that I would be allowed to graduate, but
not to expect any favors. Even though I had been an honorary Mu Phi
Epsilon, I had been blackballed by one of the male members who had
been pledged after the sorority went coed. I ended up with a new
roommate, from Turkey. He was married and his wife was also attending
school. He spent most of his nights with her, but we also became good
friends. It was very interesting because the Arab and Persian students
were afraid of Turks, and didn't want to do anything that might offend
him, or his wife, or his roommate. The highlight of the semester was a
course in computer programming, in which I wrote a computer program to
simulate the economic model of the business plan I had worked on all
summer. I had ended up spending my late evenings/mornings after the
shows writing a 200 page business plan for a commercial theater that
would employ professional actors on a percentage of the house basis. I
turned both in as a "bachelor's thesis". I lost two grades because I
couldn't afford to have it professionally retyped, but the teacher
copied it and used it to capitalize a summer theater in Grand Lake.
This model has since been used to capitalize several theaters, some of
which even turned out to be successful.
When I graduated, I left with no ceremony, no big fanfare, not even a
goodby party. I didn't even come back for the graduation ceremonies in
the summar.
A Theater Manager at Last (sort of).
When I graduated, I got a job managing movie theaters. I thought it
would be a good way to learn "front of the house" issues. I worked in
a 900 seat theater that was full almost every weekend. The only hazard
was armed robbers. After being in 2 robberies and then being forced to
open the safe myself, I ended up being transferred to a drive-in
theater where I was supposed to walk around with a sawed off pool
queue and look tough while the manager skimmed a few bucks into his
own personal bank bag.
I was finally questioned by a polygraph and was discovered to be
"deceptive" (I kept anticipating that he would guess the bill that I
was holding, he guessed a 50, 20, and a 10. I was holding a $5, and he
never guessed it. I would start to spike at the $10, after he made
that guess. I was anticipating the lie. Anyway, I told them everything
I knew at the time. Eventually, I would be exhonorated, but the
interrogator just assumed that I was somehow involved or guilty and
know more than I was telling. The city manager decided that I wasn't
aggressive enough to manage drive-in movie theaters. I agreed, so I
left the company.
Life in a Christian Commune
By this time, I was living in a Convent (those nuns warned me that
celebacy could be habit forming) that had been converted to a
community home. I met many interesting artists and creative people,
some of whom went on to be quite successful. I even met a nice girl,
Sheila Jackson, who tried to have sex with me. She was into fisting
(which didn't do a thing for me), and I couldn't get aroused. We ended
up just being friends. By this time I was in the Middle of a 3 year
period of Celebacy (Connie to Leslie).
Although I had stopped drinking, I did still like to go dancing at the
clubs. On several different occaisions, I would go dancing and end up
"just dancing" with as many as 20 different women in a single night.
There were several who seemed interested, but the bouncers would tell
them that I was gay.
Hooking the Hard Way.
One time the manager of one of the restaurants, told me he could
introduce me to the bar maid if I'd "make him happy". He wanted oral
sex from me. I really wanted to get a chance with this bar maid, so I
gave it a shot. Within a few minutes he was grabbing me by the hair,
trying to choke me or gag me or something, and then he shot his load.
I almost threw up all over him on the spot. He told me I was great and
brought over the bar maid. He introduced me all right...as his lover.
I told him later that if I had a chance, I'd bite it off like an
australian shephard.
A.A. and the 90-day-wonder.
I also started going to more A.A. and Al-Anon meetings. Everybody was
substantially older than I was, especially in A.A. I had a hard time
relating to the folks who loved spending time with their
grandchildren, when I didn't even have a wife or a lover. One older
fellow told me "son, I spilled more on my tie than you ever drank". He
must have been a very sloppy drunk. From 1978 to 1980, I would get to
90 days, but I'd slip just before 6 months, and usually with nasty
consequences within the next week or so.
Eventually I moved back in with my father, who by now had completely
detoxed off of all drugs, repaid all the money he'd taken from the
church, and had even paid up his child support (for my little sister).
I was watching how my father was working the 12 steps. He was actually
doing it "by the book". He had literally gone from being a zombie
(couldn't even smile when I gave him a television for christmas), to
being more delightful than I had ever known him to be.
The Last Drunk.
I went to what would be my final drink on a Tuesday night, May 19,
1980. There was going to be a fashion show and there was a $5 cover,
but that included 2 drinks. I walked in, decided $2.50 was a bit much
to pay for soda pop, and ordered two brandy manhattans. I don't even
remember finishing the first one before I ended up going into a
blackout. I only remember walking into the bathroom and snorting some
RUSH, and dancing with a beautiful lady wearing a ver short green
dress and high heels who seemed incredibly friendly. The last thing I
remembered as I came out of the blackout was reaching into my wallet
and discovering that I had already spent my last $50, on what? Don't
know. I either gave the bartender a huge tip, or just drank it all.
When I got to the parking garage, there was a Glendale cop on one
entrance and a Denver cop on the other one. I don't know if they were
actually waiting for me, but I decided to wait them out. When the
Denver cop finally drove off about 2 hours late, I headed across the
street to Denver and parked in the grocery store parking lot. I went
grocery shopping for about two hours and took the back roads through
Denver to get home.
The Wake-up Call.
Two days later, as I was driving home from work, two cars came from
behind, drag racing and moving at close to 100 MPG. I saw their
headlights and started to get out of their way. Just then one of them
bumps my left front fender. A few seconds later, the other one bumps
my right front fender. I was so upset I started to punch the gas to
catch them, and suddenly realized that I may have no steering or
brakes in a few seconds. Suddenly, faced with the possibility of dying
in the next 30 to 60 seconds, I wanted to live, and asked God for
help.
About a week later, I had to have the car inspected. I was failed and
told that I would need to spend $1000 to fix this car I'd purchased
for $800 three years before. I came home, had a temper tantrum just
like a little kid, and kicked a hole in the wall. My dad told me he
was going out to eat and would take me to a meeting if I wanted to go
and that I should find another place to live if I wanted to kick holes
in the walls.
I went to this meeting and something happened. I heard my own story.
The speaker was young, a periodic, and drank to blackouts, he even
used pills to make it appear that he was abstinant (while high as a
kite). Suddenly I realized I belonged. I didn't have to hurt any more.
I ended up going to 90 meetings in 90 days. I found a sponsor, I read
the big book again, and this time, I asked my sponsor to take me
through the steps. I also met Leslie.
************************* End Of One Oddball Linux Cultist
*************************************
Maybe the gang over in alt.psychology can help you Rex Ballard.
