10-24-2014, 09:17 PM
I was born a victory baby on 5/2/46. My parents met the Bolenbaughs before our births at Floyd Bennett Field in NYC. We liked each other when we were both still in our wombs. I fell madly in love with Tom on 6/21/68/ Tom was driven from Iowa, condemned as a faggot and a cocksucker. He fell into my arms and I am still in love with him. Tom died 12/8/97. I have seen him often since then. We worked as spies at first for the FBI, the CIA, State Dept. and the Marine Corps.
Tom was fascinated that my mom knew everyone in Democratic Party from 1930 forward. My mom loved to dance with her lesbian friend, Eleanor Roosevelt. She got Joe and Rose Kennedy to be my godparents. J Edgar Hoover was gay and loved my Uncle James who was gay. Edgar called me his grandson.
At 10 I lost my virginity to a beautiful Nez Perce indian boy from Idaho. Jimmy Joseph's great great grandfather was Chief Joseph. A beautiful man of peace.
Tom and I loved each other shamelessly. Tom in the mid 70's started attending Amnesty International meetings led by a family friend, Sean MacBride. Tom insisted that I go to Paris and listen to Sean's offer. I told Tom I would prefer if Sean dropped by my fathers apartment and talk to both of us. Sean has a background in Irish Republican Army and I hated the IRA for murdering my mom. Fuck the IRA and everyone who likes them.
Sean asked Tom and I to visit the Palestinian camps in Damascus. Tom was enthusiastic and said we would save the Palestinians from everyone. On the day we arrived, Ariel Sharon, made a gesture slitting his throat and pointed towards Lebanon.
Tom was playing football with about 20 kids in Damascus. I was nervous and sat in the dark with green night vision goggles on. It felt bad. Tom said I was always so negative. They marched in with machetes and systematically murdered everyone I could see except Tom.. He was wearing marine fatigues and the killers ignored him.
Tom tried to fight which was a joke. Tom couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. He fell down in a large pool of blood and continuously tripped over body parts as he tried to stand. Tom eventually collapsed.
I approached Tom and realized his body was ten degrees colder than the blood on him. Tom was going into shock. For the next 24 hours, I cowered like a trapped rat trying to protect Tom. I eventually got Tom's unconscious body to the sea and bribed a fisherman to take us to Crete.
We got to Paris. Tom had drunk the water in Damascus which had been flooded with LSD by Oliver North, the one marine I would happily kill to this day. Tom was still babbling and said he was alright. He told Sean, his hero, that he had done nothing wrong. Tom had no idea what I did.
I stared at Tom and said "I saved your life." Tom laughed and told Sean that I was very violent and he hoped I didn't kill the 2000 Palestinians who died that night.
I testified to everyone at AI and took a polygraph. I reminded my family friend Sean MacBride that I had never killed anyone in my life. I was trained by experts against using undue force.
Tom informed me that I was a coward for not saving the Palestinian camp in Lebanon. After that I told Tom I would kill Sean, any member of Amnesty Intl if they ever came near me. I told Sean to shove the Nobel Peace Prize up his ass. "You are just another fucking user, like every politician on this planet."
I didn't speak to Tom for five long years. Sean was bright enough not to show up and have a shot of Canadian whiskey with my dad. Finally, my confessor, Father Jimmy Gilhooley, encouraged Tom and I to make up. We did. Since I met Tom, I told Tom to stop using the word hate in my presence. "I have not and will not hate Hitler or anyone else. People who love to profess their hatreds are the fuckers who start war.
Tom had the good sense to never suggest that I should hate the same people that he and his friends in Amnesty.
Biggest problem in my life, I still have nightmares about that night. I wake up and can't stop the sounds of people screaming in fear as they are being butchered.
I feel guilt over what happened. Everyone else says the whole thing was really unimportant.
I've asked my neighbors does anyone care about ISIS. They tell me I must be mentally ill to worry about such things. People have no responsibility for the actions of their government. All people are victims and are entitled to whine and blame others.
Every fucking criminal I meet, says he is a victim.
I feel guilt. I think I should try to hide my guilt down an alley in some country. I should hide and the bastards destroying the world get richer and richer. Fucking Oliver North is still on TV spouting his religious views.
Being a pagan is dangerous. I was told I had free will and a soul. I decide whether I wind up in heaven or hell. Most people say I am mentally ill because I see ghosts of dead friends whose lives I saved.
At least a cheerful ghost is better than no one. By the way, Tom said that many of the young Palestinians said thanks for showing up that night. "Hey, Tom, did you tell them you stayed unconscious until we reached Crete,.
I love Tom. I want to meet him in heaven, I may just punch his face in. I will grin a lot and promise to have sex with him after I break his nose.
Anybody got lousy memories to share or a quick cure for nightmares?
One person said I should exercise more control over my nightmares. He said decent people don't tell others of painful memories. I do Tai chi to control my desire to punch people. Keeps me humorous. Someone in heaven better grin. Hey, Jesus, watch out. I still have a bit of a temper. Let's have fun and crucify some politicians, preachers and commentators. Maybe they'll feel guilt instead of us.
Tom was fascinated that my mom knew everyone in Democratic Party from 1930 forward. My mom loved to dance with her lesbian friend, Eleanor Roosevelt. She got Joe and Rose Kennedy to be my godparents. J Edgar Hoover was gay and loved my Uncle James who was gay. Edgar called me his grandson.
At 10 I lost my virginity to a beautiful Nez Perce indian boy from Idaho. Jimmy Joseph's great great grandfather was Chief Joseph. A beautiful man of peace.
Tom and I loved each other shamelessly. Tom in the mid 70's started attending Amnesty International meetings led by a family friend, Sean MacBride. Tom insisted that I go to Paris and listen to Sean's offer. I told Tom I would prefer if Sean dropped by my fathers apartment and talk to both of us. Sean has a background in Irish Republican Army and I hated the IRA for murdering my mom. Fuck the IRA and everyone who likes them.
Sean asked Tom and I to visit the Palestinian camps in Damascus. Tom was enthusiastic and said we would save the Palestinians from everyone. On the day we arrived, Ariel Sharon, made a gesture slitting his throat and pointed towards Lebanon.
Tom was playing football with about 20 kids in Damascus. I was nervous and sat in the dark with green night vision goggles on. It felt bad. Tom said I was always so negative. They marched in with machetes and systematically murdered everyone I could see except Tom.. He was wearing marine fatigues and the killers ignored him.
Tom tried to fight which was a joke. Tom couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. He fell down in a large pool of blood and continuously tripped over body parts as he tried to stand. Tom eventually collapsed.
I approached Tom and realized his body was ten degrees colder than the blood on him. Tom was going into shock. For the next 24 hours, I cowered like a trapped rat trying to protect Tom. I eventually got Tom's unconscious body to the sea and bribed a fisherman to take us to Crete.
We got to Paris. Tom had drunk the water in Damascus which had been flooded with LSD by Oliver North, the one marine I would happily kill to this day. Tom was still babbling and said he was alright. He told Sean, his hero, that he had done nothing wrong. Tom had no idea what I did.
I stared at Tom and said "I saved your life." Tom laughed and told Sean that I was very violent and he hoped I didn't kill the 2000 Palestinians who died that night.
I testified to everyone at AI and took a polygraph. I reminded my family friend Sean MacBride that I had never killed anyone in my life. I was trained by experts against using undue force.
Tom informed me that I was a coward for not saving the Palestinian camp in Lebanon. After that I told Tom I would kill Sean, any member of Amnesty Intl if they ever came near me. I told Sean to shove the Nobel Peace Prize up his ass. "You are just another fucking user, like every politician on this planet."
I didn't speak to Tom for five long years. Sean was bright enough not to show up and have a shot of Canadian whiskey with my dad. Finally, my confessor, Father Jimmy Gilhooley, encouraged Tom and I to make up. We did. Since I met Tom, I told Tom to stop using the word hate in my presence. "I have not and will not hate Hitler or anyone else. People who love to profess their hatreds are the fuckers who start war.
Tom had the good sense to never suggest that I should hate the same people that he and his friends in Amnesty.
Biggest problem in my life, I still have nightmares about that night. I wake up and can't stop the sounds of people screaming in fear as they are being butchered.
I feel guilt over what happened. Everyone else says the whole thing was really unimportant.
I've asked my neighbors does anyone care about ISIS. They tell me I must be mentally ill to worry about such things. People have no responsibility for the actions of their government. All people are victims and are entitled to whine and blame others.
Every fucking criminal I meet, says he is a victim.
I feel guilt. I think I should try to hide my guilt down an alley in some country. I should hide and the bastards destroying the world get richer and richer. Fucking Oliver North is still on TV spouting his religious views.
Being a pagan is dangerous. I was told I had free will and a soul. I decide whether I wind up in heaven or hell. Most people say I am mentally ill because I see ghosts of dead friends whose lives I saved.
At least a cheerful ghost is better than no one. By the way, Tom said that many of the young Palestinians said thanks for showing up that night. "Hey, Tom, did you tell them you stayed unconscious until we reached Crete,.
I love Tom. I want to meet him in heaven, I may just punch his face in. I will grin a lot and promise to have sex with him after I break his nose.
Anybody got lousy memories to share or a quick cure for nightmares?
One person said I should exercise more control over my nightmares. He said decent people don't tell others of painful memories. I do Tai chi to control my desire to punch people. Keeps me humorous. Someone in heaven better grin. Hey, Jesus, watch out. I still have a bit of a temper. Let's have fun and crucify some politicians, preachers and commentators. Maybe they'll feel guilt instead of us.