Saturday, December 14, 2013
It is where you find synergy: it's in the crowd.
Let's just say that the"icicle garden," is mental rape. OK! All I'm saying is that in my case, it was social rape as well. So the question is "why." I do not know. But it's why I had a mental breakdown. I'm going to let that lie for the moment and try to help you understand what it may be like. I ask you to visualize in your mind's eye three columns, each with an independent way of encoding experiences - for example, learning by experience or through vicarious channels of observation, watching someone perform the action. OK! In another column, visuals from movies or TV, and in the third column you can have fiction, nonfiction, and literature, socially accepted knowledge. Well, when the columns are intact, they are differentiated. And when the columns become convoluted, they are undifferentiated. You might think of it as, on track or off track. Now, I have been trying to put myself back on track, together. For example, the judge gave me early social security because he said I had put years into therapy and recovery, and the state had interfered. Now I will admit that there are vast amounts of memory which will never come back. For example, many of the hours, days, weeks of planning it took for life experiences are lost. What I get to know are specifics and I know that the two women who testified against me perjured their testimony. I know that because the afternoon the mother in question said I raped her daughter was the same afternoon she had previously agreed to have me take her around town but subsequently refused. So on the money I had been given by the marketing company to entertain the Mom and take her around town, instead, because she refused, I was entertaining in my room on the 'monies' allocated to take her around town and then was enjoying a beer with a charming Oriental woman on a restaurant patio near my office. As they say, the money "was burning a hole in my pocket." My office, by the way, was directly across the street from the famous 'Mother Fletcher' on 8th ave North. So you could say that I was on home turf. And I was. Oh! There is one other thing: there is 'redemption' only if you confess. And sense I never confessed, since I couldn't confess to their lies, there is no 'redemption.' And this is why I'm being socially raped. This is the South, and in the South, the 'lie' rules - 'sex scandal' must prevail. It's the prosecutor's "Saturday night special" When at all cost is their motto. The prosecutor screamed out to the jury, just before going into deliberation, "He is a time share sales man: what chance did she have?" Where were my civil rights? 14th amendment.