Carl's Blogosphere

So much has happened in the past two years that’s it feels like I’ve aged 20 years in that timeframe. The dynamics of my own personal and professional life have altered my very perceptions of life itself in such a way that it has become so very jaded and apathetic that I fear my very humanity, that it has suffered a severe blow.

For so many years I have repressed all of the abuse I endured as a child and now, I have been busily recalling much of it in an attempt to put it behind me. Instead of using so much energy to push it down, now I have focused my attention on the events of that troubled past and asking God for guidance so I can dispel its harmful nature to my psyche.

Pretty dramatic huh? Well, it feels far worse than anything I could describe to you in mere words. Music has always been a fundamental part of my life but the past years have made my need to listen to music from an occasional thing to a thing I need every 5 minutes.

Not even kidding. I have invested heavily into “earbuds”; a very cool technology that allows wireless transmission of Bluetooth signals from one’s smartphone to small earphone “buds” in one’s ears without the hassle of wires and cords, etc. BUT, the problem is, finding a high quality brand that has battery capacity that last as long as I can for my newfound drug; which I apparently need ALL the time now, even during the long hours at work which allow such things, thus far, anyways.

Now, back to the realities of life.

With the death of my, ahem, person legally designated as my mother, in late 2021, that seemed to be quite a revelation in my life, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off of me. Almost like a veil of protective secrecy had now been given life to freely discuss what had been going on for so very long in ALL of our lives.

The abuse, both verbal and physical, the intimidation, the abuse of other, more vulnerable groups of people like Autistic girls, by her, the person of interest, that we were to witness and to automatically suppress by way of our bodies natural defense mechanisms. Kind of like, how you saw something as a child but couldn’t deal with at the time, so your mind stores the memory in a box for later analysis as an adult, but all the while causing extreme damage to your psyche, your mental capacity and ability to function; however hampered it may be.

My mother, took care of Autistic girls to help pay for life when we were kids during the 80s. When those girls didn’t do PRECISELY what they were told, they were punished in some pretty cruel and unusual ways. Ways that I was, unfortunately, to bear witness to. And I wish to God Almighty that I hadn’t seen that ANY of that shit because it still sticks with me to THIS DAY thanks to my incredibly enhanced Autistic memory storage system. I envy those with 2 second memories.

When Jessica, an Autistic girl mother took care of, “misbehaved”, by trying to take her diaper off, she was punished by having her arms duct-taped with PVC pipes my father had made for my mother so she couldn’t bend her arms at the elbows.

Jessica was a non-verbal, low-functioning Autistic girl in mother’s care that had no way of fighting back, no way to say that she was hurting, no way to express herself in any traditional sense that something, anything was wrong. As I write this, I have a Niagara Falls of tears streaming down my face because these images have been haunting me for DECADES… and the nightmares of PTSD because of it. Memories which are inescapable.

Jessica had no understanding that her diaper was a necessity, no understanding of mother’s communication to her, to keep it on. She wanted it off because it was chaffing her skin and was irritating her in a way that she could not explain. She just wanted the pain of Autism’s amplification of pain to go away but this circumstance could not be conveyed to Jessica in a way she could understand. Nor did our mother care to explain, in her mind, she was “misbehaving”. A catch-all phrase used by those in power to justify over-arching and draconian parenting methods that did NOT take into account complex mental health disorders such as Autism. There was no love, only hate due to vanity and perceived defiance.

And then, Jessica would come into the room where the four of us were sitting, and stood there with her arms sticking out ridiculously, her face expressing a terrified look of absolute horror, he skin burning with a diaper with no comfort of baby powder, and then she simply burst into tears wailing, and walked away. Because she knew no one would come to her aid.

That scenario has been my nightmare for 40 years because when I saw it, I was terrified beyond understanding. It exploded in my mind like a bomb, but Selective Mutism, an offshoot of Autism, took over and I was lost for words as I often am, even now as I am 48 years old. I was unable to speak and unable to act. Her situation demanded an immediate response but I was unable to give one, despite my issues, her problem was more important that my inabilities.

But I couldn’t do anything but stand there and be terrified at what my “mother” was writing to my everlasting memory – Jessica standing there helpless and only able to cry.

As a 10 year old boy, I feel as guilty as mother actually was for these atrocities, these images that I have been in therapy for, for several years. And because those who were entrusted with my care as a child did not pursue a diagnosis for me, I have suffered an agonizing and excruciating life as a result. And poor Jessica was left without a champion.

Do I deserve exemption for these heinous acts? Probably not. Even at 10 years old, one still needs to act at least, or tell someone, but what if you clam up every time you face another human being? What if you can’t “confront” anyone, even your own family? Or to father that got angry at the drop of a hat? For any reason? Going to the authorities would have been like climbing Mount Everest for a person with as much mental health dysfunction as I had and have. Does that make me feel better? Not even a little.

Jessica, if you’re out there, and you’re reading this, I hope you can forgive me for not acting when I should have. I hope you can understand that I have been living in fear from my angry father and mother for 50 years and acting against them was an impossibility for me, even in my state. I hope you can understand that I was not a party to your suffering, that I did NOT condone it, that I did not want any part of it. My parents were of an evil type that I have never seen or heard about since and I could not understand why they were so evil in their intent.

Please forgive my inaction, please forgive my lack of courage to face them and stop what they were doing. Believe me, I have wished I could have, for so very long. I do not deserve anything from you. I only deserve to suffer their fate as well because I had the chance to stop the abuse but I didn’t.

Even if you do forgive me, I will still have to face The Almighty, I will have to answer for my actions on those days when we were entrusted for your care. We, I, have failed miserably.

Jessica, please forgive me.

For many years I have been suffering terribly due to the effects of Asperger’s Syndrome (Autism), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Syndrome (ADHD), Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). And those afflictions were exacerbated by an insanely abusive mother, father and younger brother.

I’ll never forget that atrocious day when I walked in on my younger brother Dan who was in my mom and dad’s bedroom. I was about 10 years old. There he was, when I opened the door, he was standing there, wearing a pair of my mom’s panties with the back massager stuck down in the panties he was wearing, with the massager going full vibrate on his genitals, and masturbating.

To this day I have never laid eyes on something so terribly traumatizing that it left an undeniably horrific impression on me. Even now, as I sit at my computer typing away, I’m sweating profusely and my anxiety and heart rate are steadily increasing as I think about it. Now, at 46 years old, that repressed memory has come alive once again, like a zombie ripping itself out of the grave. Horrific, traumatizing, anxiety-inducing and so far beyond disgusting that I cannot imagine that I was subjected to such a sight.

Dan then yelled at me to leave the room, so he could “finish”. Then I turned around, shut the door to the bedroom and left the house immediately to go for a cleansing bike ride. Riding away at top speed, I nearly hit a car coming around the corner at the end of our back alley at 11235 Wilson Rd. SE in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. My mind was fully and completely occupied by the hideousness of what I just saw and I couldn’t think straight. I rode like I never rode before, hoping that distance and memory were somehow linked like Einstein once theorized, through space/time in the cosmos. After a few hours, my mind seemed to forget the experience. In fact, I didn’t forget it. I returned home from my bike ride and simply pretended like nothing happened. I actually managed to behave as I normally would. But the image was so traumatic that it buried itself deep within my psyche and became what’s known as a Repressed Memory.

You see, according to the International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies, repressed memories occur when the emotion surrounding the “event” is so damaging, particularly when there are pre-existing conditions like anxiety disorders, that, “For more than a hundred years, doctors, scientists and other observers have reported the connection between trauma and forgetting. But only in the past 10 years have scientific studies demonstrated a connection between childhood trauma and amnesia.” Those memories that go into a repressed state, do so because it’s the mind’s self-defense mechanism. At that age, I simply wasn’t equipped to deal with such a thing.

When a child becomes an adult, those memories start to re-surface, especially when one spends a lot of time alone, thinking.

Now that I reflect upon it, I was so worried at the time that Dan was in fact, a Sodomite. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in a Christian family and having a gay brother. As Christians, we don’t hate homosexuals, but we do believe that they have made poor life choices. Dan has manifested time and again, the so-called “gay” behaviour throughout our lives. It was awful to be even associated with him. Not only is he painfully insecure, socially awkward to the point of extreme cringe, indifferent to other people’s pain and laughably arrogant (we’re not sure why this is), but he never had many friends growing up. He wasn’t even half as extroverted as I was. In fact, he was drummed out of Chestermere High School because he kept acting like he was superior to his classmates. I witnessed this fact several times when he and I briefly went to school there together. It was utterly pathetic. But, secretly I enjoyed it. It was like payback for his incessant tattling and constant hostility.

Well, after I received an e-mail from my older brother Randy in Edmonton, he invited me to give him a call. I had already sworn off my family as a lost cause, doomed to endlessly repeat the sayings, mannerisms and behaviours of my terribly abusive and, unfortunately, influential mother and father. Mom died a few weeks prior to this post and I still have trouble saying it, but I’m glad she’s dead. In fact they’re both gone. And I couldn’t be happier. You might be thinking, “What a terrible thing to say about your mother and father.” Right. You didn’t have MY mother and father, nor younger brother.

Anyways, I called Randy after work one day and we spoke for about 2 hours. And it wasn’t pretty. For the first time with a family member, I was bluntly honest and didn’t hold anything back. As nauseating as my childhood was, it all came out with Randy, and he for me as well. He told me things about mom and dad that I wish I would have known decades ago. Like mom was drinking while pregnant with me, and dad took a swing at my older brother Rick. And THAT’s why he left us! Well hell, I would have too! But my parents both told me a completely different story and why he left. My mom would say (about all my Swedish brothers), “They’re just waiting for him (dad) to die.” Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. But, that was mom and dad, they were in fact, compulsive liars.

Now that changes everything. All that I’ve been told about everything, from them, is now in a serious state of flux. All that has been said by those two is now in a fundamental condition of corruption and the record must be straightened out.

So. Maybe it’s time to start talking about it.

Below is the e-mail I sent to Hope Darst, a Christian music singer, after hearing her wonderful song on Shine FM here in Calgary.  Enjoy.

Hello Hope,

My name is Carl BR Johnson. I have been listening to your wonderful tune “Peace Be Still”, thanks to Shine FM – 88.9, a Christian music radio station here in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Thanks to The Good Lord, we live in the Canadian Bible belt here in Alberta; ours is a predominately Conservative and Christian community. I listen to Shine FM every day on the way to work, and lately we’ve been hearing your exceptional singing voice here in Canada, since the release of that tune earlier this year.

I can’t begin to tell you how much this song has positively affected my troubled life. I have been listening to it non-stop today, on Sunday, as well as on YouTube, which I have liked and subscribed to your channel. Every time I hear it, the tears flow quite readily, and frequently. The power of God’s Word through your angelic voice has lifted my spirit to new incredible heights. I feel as if my pain has begun to dissipate.

This tune and it’s lyrics have a special meaning for me personally. As I mentioned previously, I am deeply troubled and I am in the process of seeking help. I have recently been diagnosed with ADHD, OCD and PTSD and last but certainly not least, Asperger’s Syndrome; also called High Functioning Autism. Anxiety is the common denominator of all of those disorders. For most of my life, anxiety has been out of control and only recently, The Good Lord has helped me to lift the veil of cloudiness that prevented me from realizing that I had a problem. After 45 years of denial and refusal to accept that I was very different, despite the overwhelming, and sometimes ridiculous number of symptoms and indicators.

My childhood could be described as violent, angry and hateful from both my mother and father. Looking back on it now, my father was not an alcoholic, but I realize now that he also, had un-diagnosed Asperger’s Syndrome (ASD) and possibly PTSD; same as me. His first wife died in a car crash to contribute to his emotional instability. The emotions of Autistics are usually out-of-control and need help to keep under wraps so you can imagine the terrible temper my father would have had. My family believed, very strongly, in not admitting one’s problems, especially to the public, to always show the good side, and weaknesses were mocked by my entire family. I did my best to hide much of what I was going through, unsuccessfully, and acting out was a regular occurrence for me. I got into trouble often.

Emotional and physical abuse was commonplace and terribly traumatic for me and my younger brother during our entire childhood. Many times, we would walk, rather hobble, to school, after our father had a previous night of rage, usually brought on by my mother, where our legs and backside were black and blue from “the stick”. A very large and heavy tool used for weekly beatings. When we changed our clothes in the change rooms for gym class in the mid-80s, the other kids would always see our bruises all up and down our bodies. The rumours flew around our Christian school, Glenmore Christian Academy. Dan and I had to live with the shame of it all and have to face our peers every week of school. Verbal abuse from my mother and physical abuse from my father. We had no place to hide from it at home.

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I also suffered a heart attack, at age 34, in 2010, without a history using illicit drugs of any kind, only a little alcohol and nothing unusual about my diet. This incident has now, since been diagnosed as “Autistic Burnout”. This burnout caused a heart attack after so many years of trying to fit in, trying to be “normal” and failing, endless mimicry of neuro-typicals, and constant denial of anxiety issues with no help of any kind. Living on my own has been a nightmare, and I’ve had more than 35 jobs in my life. I’ve been fired from most of those jobs, and quit to avoid being fired from some of those experiences. My pain tolerance is quite high, as you could imagine.

I apologize if this information is graphic, but I wanted to impress upon you how much I appreciate your work, and the solace that it brings me. Part of being an Aspie, is our ability to remember everything we are exposed to with impeccable detail, one of my nicknames growing up was “Rainman”, for my ability to express large amounts of explicit and specific information. Your music helps me to put aside the trauma of my life that I remember so vividly. And like a glacier that suddenly finds itself in the sun, your words help to melt away the pain of my life. As it turns out, your heavenly voice has been infinitely therapeutic for me. The healing process has found new joy.

Please keep your ministry going for as long as you can. For heaven’s sake. And for the sake of many struggling Christians like me, who are fighting a terrible battle every hour of every day. Week after week, month after month and year after year. Where peace is hard to come by, and solace lasts far too terribly briefly. Being still is close to impossible for someone with Autism and ADHD, but this song has helped me in that war.  Even your name, has given hope to someone like me.

Peace Be Still has provided the peace and the stillness to know that The Good Lord Jesus is in control, He has not forsaken me, and He has not forgotten me. And although I am engaged in a brutal struggle to keep my mind from tearing itself apart, I will know that He is helping me, even now. Someday, I will be able to find Real Peace in Heaven and commune with my Heavenly Father, my illnesses will be wiped away and I will know true love, calmness and serenity.

Thank-you very kindly for Peace Be Still,

Carl BR Johnson

After living in Kaslo, BC, Danny the Liar and I were summarily punted from the family household whence Grade 12 was completed and forced to “make it out on our own.”  With no help from those who were charged with our care – my sister came to our aid in Calgary and I was always grateful for her.  Whenever the one who gave birth to me got tired of me or couldn’t find it within herself to assist me in life in the ways that she should have, she always pawned me off to my sister or brothers.  I’m sure my sis didn’t mind helping and I’m sure Sue knew that mother-dearest simply couldn’t be bothered to help in any way that mattered, but, I always got the feeling of used baggage, regardless.  Kind of like going to a party that you weren’t invited to?  I never thanked Sue for helping me in life, when my parents did not, but, I was always so confused about anyone’s intentions toward me.  Intent, is something I still struggle with, even at this age.

Great book… and exactly how I felt as a child.

Because you see, my life is only the culmination of one person’s hatred for another.  That’s it.  My entire reason for existence.  My mother wanted to spite my father for saying “no more children”.  They were both from previous marriages, and already had grown children of their own, and those two misfits came together as their fates became entangled from their grown children’s friendship for the other set of children.  Romantic.  But.  Mother dearest fucked it all up.  The one trait she has in abundance.  Take something awesome and pour 50 tonnes of raw sewage all over it.

So, mother dearest poked a hole in her diaphragm and presto-chango, along came Carl, much to my father’s sincerest surprise too.  That kind of betrayal is something that mother actually encourages others to do too – to this day.  Christianity had little effect on her.  And, just to make the point clear enough for a thick headed old boy that Dad was, she repeated the dastardly deed once more, and along came Danny the Liar, the Deviant, the Antagonist, the Drug User.  Like the devil himself, he has many names.

For the next 20 years I (and we, if we’re going to keep telling the truth here) became the focus of my father’s anger on a daily, weekly, monthly and yearly basis.  All I had to do, was say, “hey Dad” in the softest, most quiet voice and that’s all it took for my father to BLOW THE FUCK UP.  “WHAT”  “WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW”  “I’M READING”  “GET OFF THAT DAMN MACHINE”.  Now, that last one had a little more effect than one would like.  I should have pursued the life of a computer programmer but, I chose instead the life of a Journalist.  Not a decision that I regret at all, but, I did not take into account the tremendous amount of anxiety that childhood in my life had revealed.  For one to be a Journalist, one can’t be riddle with anxiety so sky high that even stepping onto a Calgary Transit bus gives rise to palpitations and blackout panic attacks.  What did I say?  My brain chemistry is, unique.

Relax Carl… yeah right.

In order for a Journalist to be a Journalist, you need to be ready for fucking anything.  Anything.  Any kind of person, situation, interrogation of cheating policeman or politician, anything.  Someone with a high amount of anxiety can’t be throwing himself in situations like that.  Ugh…

And so, even when you know you’re allergic to something and you tell your mother, what should she do?  Laugh?  Mock you?  Deny you the trip to the doctor?  Tell your brothers and sisters so they laugh too?  If something you’re eating hurts you and you say something shouldn’t someone listen?  Not in my case.  Eating eggs caused my throat to close up and my back muscles to spasm AND created panic attacks as a result.  If you tell your earthly guardians that these things are happening, what should their response be?  You’d think it was obvious but, the obvious result didn’t happen.  So the eggs kept getting served at dinnertime.  After a few years of the same complaints my incredibly jaded parents finally relented and I went for an allergy exam at the Foothills Medical Campus sometime in the early 80s.  I took a test where they poke a whole bunch of holes in your back coated with various stimuli to see what would react with your skin to discover allergic reactions and guess what happened?  Pets and eggs flared up severely as well as all the typical asthmatic reactions too.

So, there was, ahem, egg, on my parents’ faces on that one.

Do you think that little taste of reality would teach them any humility?  Not a chance.  Remember I said my folks were as jaded as the native green Chinese stone itself?  That doesn’t even come close to what they were inside.  Like brimstone.  After being proven wrong about that little cry for help that I so desperately gave, my parents became even more hard-hearted.  For so-called Christian parents they were a lesson in what NOT to be.  In fact, the polar opposite, in hindsight.  Even asking my father to stop at the pharmacy to pickup an asthma inhaler on his way home from work was a dubious task indeed.  After that, I learned to hide my health problems as best as I could, to avoid anger and strife from my crazy parents.

You see, that wasn’t even the start of my health problems.  I had many more to be discovered but, as hard-headed as mommy and daddy were, I was even more scared to tell them of the many other problems I was having.  And I didn’t even scratch the surface until recently, too.

As it turns out, I have several different anxiety disorders, none of which have been officially clinically diagnosed because my eyes about the situation have only recently been opened to the terrifying fact.  But, the facts remain that I have five different neuroses and a neuro-developmental disorder.  Once I get a health plan to cover the cost of a $4,000 psychological diagnosis, I can then begin to get the help that I need, IE, drugs and therapy required for such a messed up bit of wiring that is my God-given brain.  Intelligence?  Abundant and then some.  Emotional stability?  Non-existent.

It’s a mess up there.

I have prayed to Jesus for many years but to no avail, but I’m not one to argue with The Good Lord’s timing.  Perhaps now was when the plan allowed to be able to see what I am, and what I need to live happily.  As it turns out, what I need to be happy in life is far different from my neuro-typical counterparts.  But, that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish – perhaps in a future blog post.  Still, I just wish I could have been spared such an excruciatingly painful life and been born to parents who might have actually saw what was happening and sought the proper clinical help.  There was always some distraction…

Kicked out of preschool, always in trouble at elementary school, hyper-active, hyper-focus and lack of focus at the same time, easily bored, trouble keeping a job after school, getting evicted, insomnia, out-of-control anxiety, anger issues, bullying, alcoholism, difficulty keeping friendships, staying off the street, etc. etc. etc. and the list is endless.  

Add to that mess an antagonistic little brother and life quickly became unbearable.  Danny the Deviant held a job for a while when we were in Calgary living on our own, but, he lost it somehow.  I found him some work as a temp employee where I work at Ingram & Bell, a now defunct medical supply warehouse that is now a wholly-owned subsidiary of Baxter Corporation.  Even then, I was always looking out for him, despite his sadism, but I never got a thank-you from him for helping him out.  My boss, Tim Geddes, thought he was pretty ungrateful for not thanking both him and me for the job, and the money he needed for his share of the rent.
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Eventually Dan had to concede defeat and go back home to live with mom and dad in Kaslo.  I was so thankful for that.  His antagonism got to a point where we fought for the worst time one day and without my dad there to break us up, he got me so angry I really thought I was going to kill him this time.  Danny the Deviant had that effect on people.  He loved getting a reaction from others, no matter the cost either, which made him especially sadistic, hateful and mean-spirited.  He actually got off on causing the anger and pain of those around him.  He never quit until he got what he wanted too.  He was relentless.  Utterly relentless.  Selfish too, as if other people exist for HIS amusement.

Keep it up Danny, see how long you live this time.

I lived alone for a time, and it was the best time of my life, really.  The peace and quiet was so nourishing it was crazy.  My company though, Ingram & Bell, wanted to consolidate in Edmonton, and perhaps, in hindsight I should have moved but, in the end I voted no, and they moved our office to Edmonton.  Leaving me without a job.  I spent a year out of work during most of 1996, when Calgary and Alberta were going though an especially tough economic time as well.  Brutal timing.

Danny the Liar went to school in Vancouver a short time later, and one night he phoned me and I’ll never forget that night.  He phoned me up and told me, “I just did four lines of coke.”

My heart sank.  Now my little shit brother was… a drug addict… ON COCAINE NO LESS.

I couldn’t believe it.  I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night ’cause he phoned me at 3am with that bit of news.   Similar late night phone calls ensued, bragging about snorting cocaine.  Bragging?  Sickening.

My God!  He was snorting cocaine?!?  In Vancouver no less?  A town with a reputation all its own for that sort of low-life shite.  And he was actually bragging about it too!  That night changed my view of him forever.  A sexual deviant, a liar, a thief, and now a drug user?!?  It was all too much.  We’ll never know how much coke he snorted in total.  Even a little is too much.  Apparently, he got it from these east-Indian friends he was living with there.  They showed him a trunk full of weapons that had “bodies or no bodies” on them.  A term they used to prove if those weapon were used in crimes or not or were untraceable firearms.  Disgusting.  Now he’s with people who do drugs and cart around weapons that have killed people.  Lord help me.

Snort another line Dan.

All this didn’t really sink in for me, I just pretended that it happened to someone else.  This is what the mind does when it goes it damage control mode.  You can’t allow yourself to accept it as fact because the info just becomes too traumatizing to believe.  Enter the repressed memory filing system.

A few months later I hilariously offered him a place to stay after his schooling was completed, my father had to convince me.  I reluctantly relented and he came right back to our little apartment in downtown Calgary.  What a sucker I am.  After all that?  I was just doing the Christian thing for him.

But, here’s where the fun kept going…  His first fucking night back in Calgary in MY apartment and what does he do?  He walks a few blocks downtown and finds God-knows-who drug dealer AND BUYS MARIJUANA.  AND, brings it back to MY apartment!  Making me an accessory to a crime!  I couldn’t believe it!  Do you accept someone’s help for room and board and then make them an accessory to NARCOTIC OFFENCES?!?  NO!  OF COURSE NOT.  Danny the Drug User indeed.

I had to think fast.  What was I going to do?  So I taught him a lesson he’d never forget.  Not the usual fist throwing methods which were fun and spelled immediate relief but something that would stick with him… forever.  I let him roll up his little doobies of weed and then we both proceeded to smoke away, BUT, I turned on my old acting chops and faked a convulsive reaction to the drugs.  I’m a genius.  No, really, I am!  (My IQ score says so, HA!)  My little acting part in this sick game known as drug-using-sibling was a complete success.  Little Danny started freaking out and thought I had a life-and-death reaction to the drugs he bought from Joe Whofuckingcares on some street corner, that he immediately grabbed up every bit of the drugs and threw them all in the garbage!  He apologized profusely and swore he’d never do it again.  Success!  A life lesson has been learned!

My old acting days didn’t go to waste did they?  LOL.  

Can I get my Academy Award now please?  The award for the Best Actor in a Narcotic Dramatic Series goes to… Carl!  Thank-you.  I’d like to thank God, my personal genius and the Academy.  Thank-you and goodnight!

That’s gosh darn right Denzel!

After Chestermere, we moved out to Kaslo, BC where I attempted to salvage what was left of my schooling.  Successfully.  It took an extra year but, after one has been broken so many times so early in life, motivation for much of anything is a luxury.  Jennifer Janz’s murder was still fresh in my mind in the form of a repressed memory. 

Jen left us in July of 1991 and laid to rest in Queen’s Park Cemetary

But, repressed as it was, the effects of that shock felt something like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).  A severe beating from my father right before we moved to Chestermere was also something I couldn’t deal with, and it added to my already fragile state.  I couldn’t walk after it, all because of a foster kid’s false testimony too, I seem to be the constant victim of other people’s lies.  I didn’t care much about anything after these excruciating events.

I still think about Jen every once in a while.  When one loses the first girl he ever loved due to such an act of malice as murder when one is so young, I was only 16 at the time, one never really recovers from that.  I go to see her at Queen’s Park Cemetery sometimes, on occasion.  It’s still very hard to deal with, even after all these years.  An exceptional memory isn’t actually a good thing no matter what anyone tells you.  Images, sights and sounds are just too vivid and even the emotions are as crystal clear as Cristal Champagne.  I.  Just.  Can’t.  Forget.

That’s her on the far right, and me in the background with the sweater.

Even to this day, I wake up sweating, and I usually go home after work with splitting headaches.  Nightmares happen every once in a while but, they’re pretty rare.  I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) as well which causes frequent panic attacks that contributed, in large part, to a myocardial infarction in 2010.  Other anxietal factors/disorders were in that mix as well for such a crazy event as a heart attack when one is only 34 years old.  Most of the time these panic attacks cause loss of consciousness which would classify them as serious as GAD comes.  I’ve often questioned the wisdom of me driving a car, as one never knows when a panic attack will occur but, riding on Calgary Transit causes a great deal of anxiety for me as well, so, I’m stuck between a car and a hard bus, so-to-speak.

Here’s an old photo of us all at Glenmore Christian Academy singing at the old Chinook Centre, top floor, in the late 80s with Jen on the far left, front row.

I haven’t been officially diagnosed with GAD, PTSD nor OCD yet, only by a family doctor and not a clinical psychologist, so it needs a very expensive process to begin the healing which I haven’t got the money for.  Therapy and crazy expensive drugs are not an option at the moment, not with the current health plan nor debt load I’m carrying.  There is a strong possibility that other more serious mental health conditions exist as well.  My head is quite a mess.  And I won’t get into the physical ailments either, that list would stretch around the block too.
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Jen’s death set the stage for how I would proceed with women and relationships with them thereafter.  After I got through the ridiculous late-teen laying spree I went on, I’ve been celibate for 22 years now, since 1996.  I’ve had several relationships with many lucky young ladies but I was never able to breach the long-term commitment debacle.  I’ve made attempts to hack it but, Jen’s death always rang in my mind, “what if she dies too?” I would ask myself that every time I got close to someone.  That terrible, unsolved murder, even to this day, dictated my outcome for every close-encounter-with-the-feminine-kind that I ever embarked upon.  That, and the emergence of post modern feminism had really turned my stomach when it came to any future relationship.  Nauseating, in fact. 

I am a lone wolf and proud to be one.  Many Christian men have chosen a life of celibacy and so have I.  The Good Lord always came first, as He should.  Despite my horrific childhood and the mess of neurological wiring that I have been given, Jesus will always come first.  So sex was never an option after I got through the insane sex-drive that all young men are lumped with when late-teens and early twenties arrive.  Whew!  It was fun, but not something I’m terribly proud of. 

Still, when one cares so much about the truth as I do, it sometimes comes at the cost one’s own ego and reputation too.  Ego is such a sick fascination.  I choked on so much ego and bullshit lies with my own family that, when pride came even close to me I immediately diffused it anyway I could.  When it manifested itself in others as well as myself.  Like the old adage goes, Vanity, is the devil’s favourite sin.  And when one’s own family members constantly display it, it sickens you to the point of running the hell away from it.  But, I digress.

Back to Jen, there was an update in October of 2014 regarding Jen’s case file reported by the Calgary Herald.

Nothing new as it says, but, it was good to see the case wasn’t totally forgotten.  I have trusted in The Good Lord to take care of this matter and His justice always reigns supreme so, all I can do is try to move on.  I can only hope that the Good Lord guides the always dependable Calgary Police Service to more clues and interviews to finally nail the son-of-a-bitch who extinguished Jen’s light.

I sure do miss you, Jen.

As mentioned in my previous post, I had a heckuva hard time at Chestermere Junior High School but when you’re a guy who’s good at sports then you automatically become awesome in the eyes of your peers.  I just happen to be a natural athlete growing up and in junior and senior high school, thank The Good Lord for that.  And not to brag, but, I was pretty awesome at every sport I played.  I learned to channel the immense amount of anger I had at my parents for moving out there and into my athletic ability and was determined to be good at something, but not just good… AWESOME.  That ability and determination went a VERY long way in school towards making friends so I just kept at it.  I was terribly bored with school otherwise – it was just so dull.  My teachers kept telling me that IQ tests scored very high and I was always confused by this.  I had always thought that I was pretty stupid.  As it turns out, I have exceptional intelligence.  I was writing software in several different computer languages when I was 11 and thought that computers were pretty awesome.  Of course, I never put 2 and 2 together and just believed the abuse I received and my grades always took a back seat to computers and sports.  An unusual combination huh?  I never got to see my IQ scores for those many IQ tests that we wrote every 3 years or so but I would estimate that my IQ is around the 150 or so mark.  But I digress.

After the first year of Chestermere Junior High School I was sent to Prairie High School (PHS), also known as Prairie Bible Institute (PBI), in Three Hills, AB and it was a boarding school.  My anxiety levels for these two years were crazy high, I was always in danger of passing out or having another panic attack.  It was a pretty freaky time, but, I was just getting warmed up.  After the first couple of weeks at PHS I began to make friends with a couple of guys named Michael Wolfe and Don Zufelt.  Mike and “Zuey”.  Both were Native-Canadian, and crazy as hell.  LOL.  And there was Matthew Bean too, he was my best friend for a very long time but Danny the Liar managed to fuck that up too.  After that I made friends at a breakneck pace it seemed.  These Christian kids were far different than the ones I knew back at Glenmore Christian Academy (GCA).  They were much friendlier, happy all the time and eager to take the time to get to know you.  At GCA they were far more rude, condescending and downright mean-spirited.  I really hated them.  They were nothing but spoiled rich kids with FAR too much confidence.

But at PHS I actually began to love the school in a way that I had never experienced before.  Every so often I would go home on the weekends back to Chestermere and I began to loathe going home.  Back to the same family.  I dreaded it every time.  I just wanted to stay in Three Hills.  Mom always stirring up trouble, Danny the Liar doing the same and Dad always taking away the keyboard to my computer to feed his sadistic pleasures.  I had to “climb his city walls” every time to get it back.  I resented him so.  Really because he didn’t keep my miserable cunt mother in line as he should have.  Always disrespecting him, always antagonizing us two boys.  And then she would sit back and watch the fireworks.  She was so sadistic that way.  The one thing I could do in life was program computers and it was always getting taken away just because I “filled the hard drive up with games.”  It was just as bad as when I heard, “CARL GET OFF THAT DAMN MACHINE” about a thousand times growing up.  Parents wanted me to do homework, or so I assumed because they never said that, but I was terribly bored with school and wanted only to write software and play games.

But, I started getting into trouble with officials at PHS.  You see, when you have undiagnosed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), and when your school “Practical Training” (PT) involved cleaning public showers and toilets, you tend to avoid doing it whenever possible.  Other.  Peoples.  Germs.  Damn.  I can’t even clean my own toilet bowl let alone other peoples’!  This PT was in place at PHS to help keep tuition costs down so in essence, we were “working” for the school as quasi-janitors.  But, I didn’t have anyone who could recognize my problem of OCD and my Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), so I was labelled a “problem child” and was suspended and then told not to come back the next year.

I was devastated.  But, through some convincing, school officials let me go back for a 2nd year.  I picked up where I left off with most of my friends from the previous year but there’s a wrinkle for this year, Danny the Liar was also attending.  Let the humiliation begin.

First off and right out of the gate, Danny the Liar demanded to be put into the same room as his old friend Edward Cooper.  Diva behaviour right off the bat.  So school officials actually accommodated him and made the switch in their dorm room roommate assignments. 

Next, Danny was seen with Rhonda Bohay, a known slut and otherwise lowly bad-news girl that most good Christian kids avoided.  Then the rumors that he and her were getting more than friendly, and I do mean physical and sexual, which was TOTALLY against school rules to begin with.  I mean, right off the bat he makes a beeline for some strange girl?

Then, I made the HUGE mistake of introducing him to my friends and Danny the Liar made a massive scene in the high school building and acted like he retarded whilst insulting me by throwing his arm against his chest as was the mock action you took when someone was acting mentally handicapped and then proceeded to make retard noises!  All 10 of us just stood there, stunned beyond belief, all my Christian friends just started at Danny the Liar for almost a minute trying to figure out why he had made such an incredibly stupid and insane gesture.  Sound effects and all to boot… it was sooooooo childish.  Right after I had introduced him to my friends and wanted to help him feel at home at this new school!  I had never been so humiliated in all of my life!  

Danny the Liar sat back and turned beet red, nobody said a word, we were all afraid to move or say anything, was Danny possessed by the devil?  Was he actually retarded?  Why did he act in such a mean-spirited way after he received a friendly introduction from his older brother?  Did he need medication?  Was he under the influence of illicit drugs?  We were all so stunned by his display that, thankfully, after TWO FULL MINUTES of silence, the bell for class rang and we were saved from that horrible incident.  We all just leaped up out of our chairs and RAN.  Wow.  To this day, nobody I have ever known had acted such a disgusting manner with such good Christian company and after he had been treated so well by someone.  It was ungrateful, it was childish, it was despicable, it was horrific, and, it was the beginning of the end of PHS.

After that the already bad rumors about Dan begin to intensify, and I always got to hear about it from virtually everyone at PHS.  It was terrible.  It was utterly sickening to hear such rumors that Dan’s behaviour had caused from all of your friends.  Many of my friends thought he was actually mentally unstable, or mentally handicapped, or had behaviour issues, or substance abuse problems, each and every rumor was spreading like wildfire around school and I was attempting to put each and every fire out as best as I could.  But, rumors follow a person around for a long time.  Such is life in high school, even a Christian one.

It was then that Danny the Liar had come to know a guy named Chad Derect (spelling could be wrong).  Chad was, for all intents and purposes, a flaming homosexual.  And, somehow, he was attending our Christian school.  Redemption is for everyone I suppose but this time it was galling to see such a person in our Bible-based high school.  Little Chaddy even got up in front of everyone in the Tabernacle one day during a free speech thing on Sunday and there he was, crazy over-pronounced lisp, frail little body, high fashion clothes, Asian from somewhere we don’t know, and his constant lilts!  LOLOL  He was hilarious to watch!  The only other time I have seen a gay dude go all out flame like that was during an episode of “Ellen” with one of her gay guests! 

Chad was the literal laughing stock of the entire school and an absolutely side-splitting example of a guy that was totally in the wrong school!  There were jokes left, right and centre about little Chaddy boy.  It even became an insult to use his name!  “Oh you’re so gay!  You’re like Chad!”  HAHAHAHAHAHA.  So, what does Danny the Liar/Danny the Closet Homosexual do?  He invites Chad to come back to our house in Chestermere for the weekend!  I couldn’t believe it!  Just when I thought I couldn’t endure anymore humiliation it gets a thousand times worse.  Now Danny becomes attached to Chad at school and the rumor-mill went into absolute over-drive.  Our Christian school actually became at risk for coming undone thanks to Danny’s incessant antics.   Shoot me in the face.  It was a disaster.  Chad managed to alienate my mom by playing her piano without asking, then while helping my father outside he whined and complained like a pussy-bitch when asked to do, *gasp*  P H Y S I C A L   L A B O U R!  Right?!?  Little Chaddy complained all the time at home and I couldn’t wait to get rid of him.  Thanks Danny the Liar.
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The last and final straw for me was when Danny the Liar started hanging around Elsa Lundgren.  At first I thought his reputation for being a gay-sympathizer and all-around retard and social misfit might go away and another, more respectable Danny might emerge.  Nope.  And now for the grand finale. 

We had an outing at school that we all went to where I took my then girlfriend Marianne Strydhorst to, and wouldn’t you know it, Danny shows up there with Elsa.  It was a hockey rink we went to, where we could play and do some ice-skating.  At soon as Danny shows up.  It happened.  Danny and Elsa got into an argument in front of everyone… all 50 of us, including the Dean of our dorm.  Then their little lovers’ quarrel evolved into a physical altercation, WITH A GIRL DAN.  WITH A GIRL.  YOUR GIRLFRIEND.  WHAT IN THE ACTUAL ASS WERE YOU THINKING?!?!?   Their little physical fight become more and more animated as me, my girlfriend, and 50 of my Christian friends looked on.  And then, their legs became intertwined, they lost their balance, they tripped, and Danny the Liar fell on Elsa hard on the ground and badly sprained her ankle.  

She needed a tight bandage and crutches for several weeks.

Poor Elsa…

At this point, I bolted from the scene and many of us were so dumbfounded by what happened we just couldn’t deal with it.  All of us kids just got out of there, in some farmer’s field that lent it to us for our field trip, and we started up a game of hockey and attempted to forget the horrific scene we had just witnessed.  Elsa showed up at school with her bandaged ankle and crutches and I became the proverbial laughing stock of PHS because I was only related to Danny the Liar, the Social Misfit, the Gay-Sympathizer, the Misbehaviour-ist (nice word hey?  just made it up)  The rumors about Dan at this point became downright legendary in an infamous sort of way.  His reputation was so bad at this point, now December at PHS, only 4 months into the year, that I couldn’t even look at anyone in the eye anymore.  My grades suffered tremendously, my roommate and I had a falling out, I didn’t care anymore and all I wanted to do was get out of Three Hills.  Fast. My name became mixed up with his and everything fell apart at school for me.

How could it have been so good and become so bad so fast?  I had a great first year, for the most part, and once Danny the Liar was introduced into my world, all the good came to a grinding halt.  And hard.  

In my defense, I couldn’t bear having such a great year with a great reputation only to have it all torn away because of the ridiculous antics of another person.  In my mind, it was like a bomb had gone off.  I was racing thinking, trying to figure a way out of this mess.  I tried and tried.  Then, when I went home for Christmas, I had an evil thought.  It was the devil’s influence for sure but I had grown desperate and that’s usually when he shows up, offering his “help”.  I would bring a bottle of Jack Daniel’s 007 whiskey from my father’s liquor cabinet and I would bring it to school and try and get myself kicked out.  A second time.  Well it worked, and I managed to take a couple kids with me, which was really, really, stupid.  I shouldn’t have let Danny the Liar and his crazy reputation at school get to me, but I did.  I should have let him die his own slow death and just avoided contact and concentrated on school.  To be honest, when I got kicked out I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to see anyone again, to see their disappointed faces, to see how Danny the Liar’s antics get repeated all over school again and again.  I should have asked God for help but I acted hastily and angrily and it got me kicked out and it stunted my schooling for a year.  I was never able to see all my friends again from Prairie.  I was so hurt.

It was the best school year I ever had followed by the worst school year I ever had.  How could something be so awesome be also so bad so quickly?  I made a lot of friends in Three Hills and they were all good, Christian friends too!  It was a monumentally awesome year only equaled but a monumental failure.  And it put me in a depression that I am still dealing with today.  I don’t think I will ever live it down.  It has negatively affected my life in such a way that I am still totaling now.  What was the ultimate cost?  Who knows.  It’s still being tallied.  

I often wonder how awesome my life would have been without Danny the Liar.  Someone who had such a profoundly negative effect on me that it still has me baffled in so many ways.  I might have been far more successful than I am now, that’s for sure.  Danny the Liar just goes to show you how one person’s lies can have such a detrimental effect on those around him.   All for ego.  He really is sick.

Vanity, will remain, the devil’s favourite sin.

Recently I was contacted by the local police service regarding my blog posts here at the behest of Danny The Liar.

Yep, you read that right folks, he actually contacted the police in an attempt to bring down my blog posts here because, obviously, the truth hurts.  Now, obviously the police are unable to take down anyone’s blog posts just because another person’s ego is bruised and this incident will only accelerate my exposé of Danny The Liar and his dirty deeds.  And the officer I spoke to said that Danny The Liar actually attempted to get the police to give him my phone number too!  Oh, what a violation of civil liberties!  The officer said he wasn’t going to give him my number for that reason and he was right.  A good cop is always welcome in my town.  I’ve been threatened by ego-maniacal persons before during my time as a Journalist, particularly politicians, and that has NEVER stopped me from writing the truth.  All of what you’ve read here will be nothing BUT the truth so help me God.  This entire blog is my own personal therapeutic measure to gain some sanity in this liar’s paradise we call planet Earth.  And I’m going to enjoy that measure to the full.

But can you imagine the audacity of contacting the police because you read something online that hurt your feelings?!?  Danny The Liar’s ego is FAR more sick and twisted than I previously imagined!  Too bad kiddo!  You committed acts of unspeakable sickness throughout our childhood while always blaming me and this continued into adulthood.  Always playing the victim while YOU were the bully and NOW you’re getting your comeuppance.  Okay kiddo!  Everyone out of the pool!  Fun’s over slick!  You’ve got to pay your OWN way now and NOW you’re going to answer for your sick ways and your lies once and for all!  AND ON THE INTERNET TOO BABY!  Woohoo!

I love a good public execution!

I have to admit though, to actually attempt to divert taxpayer funded, valuable police resources and time away from higher priority stuff like murders, theft, and in general -actual crime, to service your own ego was quite astonishing to say the least.  This is definitely a new low for Danny The Liar.  This is someone who claims to be a good Christian man and he attempts to service his own VANITY with the help of the police!  Good Lord…  The devil would be proud I’m sure.  You’ve heard the old saying, “vanity is the devil’s favourite sin.”  

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I have enjoyed these blog posts to the full and now that the police may be watching then I will have a real chance to right even more of Danny The Liar’s wrongs with his past and frequent usage of cocaine, marijuana and alcohol.   But, those exposés will have to wait for future posts.  Oooooooooh!  The anticipation must be just killing you all hey?!?

Didn’t I tell you Danny The Liar was an ego-maniac?  Well, now you all have proof.  The police cannot be used to service your ego folks, get used to it.  That’s NOT why they exist.  Shameful Danny boy, utterly and completely shameful.  Now my opinion of you is even lower than it was.  And it was pretty low to begin with. 

You’re a heckuva bad role model for your children aren’t you? 

Sick.  Totally sick.

“crazy noises”    LOL

Shortly after the debacle of stealing we moved out to the cesspool known as Chestermere Lake, once named by CTV News the most polluted lake in all of Alberta – about 20 km east of my old home in Willow Park in Calgary.  Of all the decisions mostly influenced by our miserable cunt mother, this one was the worst… and she convinced our father to do it knowing full well the grotesquely negative effect it would have on Danny The Liar and me.

We had just moved out to Chestermere – about 5 km SE of the lake itself, to a parcel of land about 20 acres large and our closest neighbour was 500 feet away, instead of less than 10 feet as it was when you live inside of the big city.   We went from postage-stamp lots of land to massive lots of land where every one of my neighbours in our small subdivision there, had more than enough “breathing room”, as it were.  And I was fucking miserable.  So far from the city and not exactly a way to bike there and back, we had no choice but to attend the local public school known has Chestermere Elementary/Junior/High School.  Basically a country bumpkin paradise and filled with the detritus of farmland kids.  Disgusting little bastards.  And the teachers were just as bad.  Horribly abusive, woefully immoral and quite undeserving of any respect.

What a situation.

I made friends easily enough there but it was the most emotionally jarring first day at school ever.  My brother and I begged our parents to send us into town to go back to Glenmore Christian Academy (GCA) again but Dad didn’t want to drive us in every day and my mother being the sadistic cunt that she was, was still enjoying her revenge on us for stealing from her.  To this day, I have never met such a sadistic and mean-spirited cunt as her.  Mother dearest.

From that day on I was angry as hell.  Angry at her, at my father, at God.  Everyone.  I despised being dragged out of my nice life in Calgary, from my school, GCA and most of all, from all my friends in the city.  That entire move caused something like Post Traumatic Stress  Disorder within me and I didn’t give a shit anymore.  My grades faltered, and life didn’t seem worth living.

Stringent regulations are the main reason for getting erectile dysfunction canadian viagra samples condition in men that use anabolic steroids. Kamagra Polo inhibits the action of the agent that viagra uk sales lasts up to 36 hours by clicking here: That’s balanced to improve a woman’s sexual drive and satisfaction of sex naturally and without side effects. If you must eat viagra sildenafil why not try this out white rice or white potato or white white bread, plan to have sexual intercourse. Regardless of whether it is caused due to physical issues which are related http://mouthsofthesouth.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/MOTS-09.22.18-WILLIAMS.pdf viagra prescription for woman to physiotherapy and do not involve any medicinal intake. And then, Daniel William Eric Johnson’s greatest lie yet was coming.  Dan started having problems at school, particularly with bullying and not fitting in.  Dan’s method of convincing those around him that HE was superior to them didn’t exactly go over too well with the locals.  These being non-Christian kids, he attempted to elevate himself above them at their expense.  A most un-Christian thing to do for sure but Dan didn’t care.  His ego was always his #1 priority.  This is what Dan does or at least, attempts to do with people.  It never works, one wonders why he keeps doing it.  But that IS the insanity of ego-mania.  It doesn’t matter if your methods of superiority actually convince those around you, you yourself believe that you’re superior and what others think, doesn’t really matter.  He received his first-ever nickname at Chestermere: Turtle.  His classmates were looking for something to pick on, so they picked on the length of his neck.  They were trying to get Danny-boy to lighten up and not take himself so seriously and he didn’t like that very much.  He fought back with his usual repertoire: condescending remarks, snide comments and ego-mania superiority sewage.  Basically.  It just fueled their desire to bring him down a notch or two all the more.

Then his lie was told.  He managed to convince my mother that I was the one causing his problems at school.  That I came around with my friends to tease him.  When in fact, it was him, who came to me at school with HIS friends, to tease me.  It was sickening.  He was desperately trying to find another enemy to unite him and his friends against me.  He wanted to take the focus off of him and his pathetically anti-social ways onto ME.  His own brother.  His own blood!  I tried to tell mom that it was Dan who brought this friends around to see me at school to make fun of me.  She didn’t listen.  Liars always stick together.  They think their alliances will absolve them of their crimes.

His shitty treachery never worked though.  And his nickname “Turtle” stuck and stayed with him throughout his time at Chestermere.  Serves you right kiddo.  Growing up, I always tried to figure out how someone could be so horrendously mean-spirited, to turn on your own blood the way he did.  He always shocked the hell out of me when it happened.  For many years and to this day, I always thought of him as The Devil himself.  I suppose The Good Lord provided me with an example of what NOT to do in life, of how NOT to act towards others.  He was it.  But it was a painful example to endure for sure.

Thankfully, the Lord came through and I started going to Prairie High School in Three Hills, AB for Grade 10.  That way, I was away from my miserable fucking parents, my miserable fucking brother and with a good group of Christian kids.  I found a large group of friends there and it will always be the best years of my life.  But, they were short years.  I would only go to PHS for a year and a half.  But that’s another story for another post. 

Stay tuned folks.  I’ll be uncovering many more lies in the future so check back every so often for more truth be told!  You know what they say, the truth will set you free!  God bless!

I’ll never forget that day around 1985 or so when I saw Dan running out of our mother and father’s bedroom to see that he had several dollar bills in his hand.  I asked him where he got it and he said he stole it from our mother’s purse.

After the first post I recently made about Dan, his complete lack of morality was really beginning to be fully revealed to me and to really scare me as well.  But worst of all, he was still locked in his newly found ego-mania that whenever I questioned him about it he kept threatening to “tattle” on me to mom and dad for some made-up thing.  The problem is that our folks always believed Dan because he was, even at this age of only about 7 or 8, an expert liar and actor.  He was always the first to accuse me of something of which I always attempted to convince mom and dad that he was lying again but they never believed me.  He was the youngest, and a bed-wetter, so they usually took his side out of guilt, or something, who knows. Nice job kiddo, always on the offence to keep people from revealing your dark heart.

Compulsive liars are such great actors.

After this stealing of his continued I unfortunately got in on the act because I desperately wanted money for playing my arcade games that I copy-catted him to get it.  It was a pattern that I continued unfortunately and got blamed for in the end.  But of course, he started that whole thing. 

This pattern of his with his compulsive lying has followed him into adulthood and his pattern of telling tales to fuel his own ego hasn’t slowed down one bit.  He’s pretty spiteful and mean-spirited behind people’s backs.  Sometimes it really used to disgust me so.

Dan’s lying created so much strife in our family that it got my father pretty worked up and usually a yelling match between our parents would start and usually ended with us kids getting grounded or worse yet, getting the stick across our backsides from our father. 

However, the purpose of introducing chair toilet was something else but, in this era of http://respitecaresa.org/caring/2020appealsocialposts-1800×1800/ purchase levitra online modernization we started using commode in our routine. However, the condition can also occur in people who have no order generic viagra family history of depression. This honest love and trust of this herbal generic levitra online by its users is unbeatable, since they can hardly find any enhancement pill in the market to last longer in bed, but such medicines are fake and can harm you badly. During the consultation with physician you should inform your doctor about any of the following medical conditions: Have genital deformity or Peyronie’s disease Have a slightly different Genetic makeup of those who are generic levitra from canada not sick. My cunt mother and bastard brother Dan are such expert antagonists.  They actually got off creating such crazy emotionally charged fights in our family and when my father got involved it never ended well.  At one point, I actually begged down to stop antagonizing me only because I didn’t want dad to hear us and get involved but Dan never listened.  His ego always demanded a reaction of some kind.  The more negative the better.  His sadism has always disgusted me and I pitied him in a way but I knew that his ego was his biggest weakness.  Anything to satiate that sick ego of yours hey Danno?

Love of self, and vanity are the devil’s favourite sins and Dan always enjoyed that one to the fullest.  It was only when everyone in the family was yelling at each other and father hitting us did Dan feel that “his work was complete”.  It was funny though, he suffered the same stick as I did from my father but he always created those bad situations anyways. Dad was always so quick to anger.  He could go from 0 to 100MPH in the blink of an eye.

I think Dan’s ultimate goal was to see me get the stick from dad and not him so he could stand back and watch me get hurt and not him.  Dan always tried so hard at that but never succeeded.  Dad always gave us the stick together regardless of what son had committed the transgression.  It was clear to me that Dan desperately wanted to elevate himself above me somehow, in whatever sick way he could.  Dan’s sadism used to scare me something awful and I would pray to God to make Dan stop his torturous routine, but, those prayers never got answered.

Many times I would beat the crap out of Dan to get him to stop his constant antagonism but Dan’s vanity and sadism always got the better of him.  His character was very weak and morality always so decadent.  Closeted gay youths seem to have that unfortunate quality.

At least now I can say that I am overjoyed not be within a 100 yards of his decadent character for the last 8 years and counting.  It gave me time to really analyze Dan’s many character flaws and to not be a victim of his sadism and cruelty anymore.  SUCH a blessing the last 8 years have been.  I thank the Lord for that.  Some people can’t be changed for the better and I had to accept that, as hard as it was at first, but ultimately necessary.  I just keep thinking of how I don’t have to be a victim of his sociopath personalty anymore and it makes me happy!

Praise Jesus!

Where to start?  Throughout my life my younger brother Daniel William Eric Johnson was the eternal antagonist, egomaniac, schemer, bully and worst of all – sexual deviant.  He used many-a-people to help lift himself higher than they, but not everyone was so willing.  Thank goodness for them.  He took after our mother that way, and it was their disgusting character example together that I shunned indefinitely, because I found it so distasteful and anti-Christian for sure.  Perhaps The Good Lord created them that way for my benefit, to make damn sure I didn’t end up like them.  Who knows.

But I always knew there was something poignantly different about Dan that I could never put my finger on.  He was different in a way that no other kid I knew at that age was different.  His manner was more sadistic, mean-spirited, haughty and utterly twisted.  He never gave a damn about anyone, except himself of course.  Again, he took after our mother that way.  His method frightened me so.  His love of self.  The way he uses others.  His self-absorption was so all-encompassing that I had no way of really describing it back then so I simply tried to ignore him as best I could.  Heck, I was just a kid stuck in that mess of a life.  Of course, with that ego, that strategy never really worked very well.  But there was something else more sinister about him.

The first time I realized something was terribly, terribly wrong with Dan was when we were home alone one time and living on Wilson Road when our parents had left for a couple hours to take a break from us… well his, constant antagonism and my eventual counter-reactions.  I was downstairs that day, and wondered where he was at that particular time as I hadn’t seen him in a while.  I wandered upstairs and heard a noise inside our parents’ bedroom.  And there Dan was.

I walked in and he was standing beside my mother’s dresser and he was wearing a pair of my mother’s beige panties and using her back muscle vibrator and he had it down (her) panties and Dan was masturbating with it.  When I saw the scene I was in absolute shock and disbelief.  He yelled at me to get out.  And he finished his business (masturbating) because apparently he was at the point of no return, so-to-speak.   Masturbating?  Okay who doesn’t?  But in a pair of your mother’s panties?  /facepalm.

So my little brother is a cross-dresser.  Possibly gay too.  Oh fuck…

We are all just doing the best that we can use it in positive ways to help you achieve harder and long lasting erections – Get Fit The first and foremost, overall fitness is what you required for being competent in the bedroom. loved that cheap canadian viagra Should I be free tadalafil sample http://greyandgrey.com/buy-1498 expecting outright results from these supplements? If you choose an excellent, top-notch product, you will need to consult a health expert. These, as the name suggests, are chewable tabs which come in numerous flavours like chocolate, mint, mango, orange, black currant, vanilla, butterscotch, apple, banana, etc. viagra tablet Try the ‘squeeze-and-release exercise’ to master control cheap cialis australia http://greyandgrey.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/Kelly-Ends-NYLJ-2007.pdf over ejaculation at a later stage. That was something we never spoke of and like many things that happened during my childhood, we simply denied its existence as our way of dealing with it.  This was to be the first of many of Dan’s unusual indiscretions.  That day changed my life forever.  I wondered why God had put such a person into our Christian family, though our mother was just as twisted in her own way.  She rubbed off on Dan really.  I honestly thought that Dad and I were cursed with these two sick people.  I was always thinking that God was out to get me or something for putting Dan in my life.  And my particular mother for that matter.

After that, Dan always treated me like I was a threat to him.  Probably because he never wanted me to reveal his (many) dirty secrets to our parents and really, to anyone.  And I never did, until today.  Because you see, I never got a thank-you from him, nor a pat on the back, nor did he ever keep any of my secrets.  In fact, as soon as Dan learned ANYTHING  about me, which wasn’t much at all, he told on me as soon as he could.  Yep that’s right.  He tattled on me so many times that I’ve lost count.  So for my silence of your disgusting sexual desires I got stabbed in the back?  Relentlessly?  For 40 years?  Thanks.

Even to this day he’s still afraid that I might do a tell-all about his sexual-deviance, his constant lying, his bigotry and ego-mania.  He’s worked so hard to discredit me and to make sure that anything I said would appear as a lie all because he wanted to protect himself and his dirty laundry.  In short, all he wanted was to drag me down to his level.  And for a time he succeeded.  Until today.

For the next few months, I will be doing a tell-all about Danny-boy and his incredible arrogance and betrayal and, ahem, sexual misdeeds.  I’m tired of dragging around his dead weight.  It’s time Dan showed the world his true colours.  His true self.  And his true blackness.  Your lies stop today slick, your bullshit has come to an end and the truth will set me free.

I’m not going to lie anymore for you kiddo – that ship has sailed.  Forever.