Fornits

Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
An open discussion about the troubled parent industry

. . . there I was in County Sligo, Ireland.  This is Yeats country - teeming with tranquil lakes, hallucinogenically green, I was staying in a castle/hotel.  I should have been having the time of my life, but no.  I was alive with hatred.  Hatred for the hotel owner, a pear-shaped little snot in an ascot whose family, he swore, had owned the property since the actual dawn of time.  But even more I hated all the rich morons swarming through this fucking castle.

They were pathetic.  They all wore these tweedy, self-conscious little outfits, they all moved in that studied way of people who fancy themselves as elegant, they had greedy little eyes and chinless little faces, they talked with loud, self-important brays, their noses were perpetually out of joint and giant logs were shoved up their butts.  They exuded the stench of entitlement.

"The thing is," I said to my friend, "they actually believe they're better than everyone else.  And they're thrilled about it."

"I want to take my penis out right now," my friend whispered, "just casually flip it out."  He was doing a magazine piece about several places like this and invited me along and here we were, sitting in a drawing room in front of a fire randomly hating everyone we saw.

"Do it, please do it," I said.
"I want some tea!" barked a rabbit-faced fuck to a scared teenager in a uniform.
"Yes sir, right away," said the teenager and scurried off.
"What an asshole," said my friend.  "Okay, I'm gonna do it."

He stood up, pulled his shirttails out and secretly removed his penis and balls.  Then he casually meandered around the room.

It was the most fun we had in Ireland.  We got to the point where we would go to these fancy places, hang aroung in the kitchen with the help and hide at the sight of other guests.

Rich people are pompous.  Rich people are deluded.  Rich people have to tell you every moment of their lives how rich they are.  Rich people are stingy, coldhearted, mean, cowardly, immoral, furtive, dishonest, arrogant, petty, backbiting, ruthless, and pointless.

Well, maybe some of them are okay.  The ones who came by their money inadvertently by doing something they really like, andsome lost souls who inheriited money and give it to weird performance artists can possibly be alloed to live.  But mainly they're a scourge.

And here's the thing:  it's not their fault.  Rich people would be perfectly fine if we would all just stop suching up to them.

We're all so busy trying to pry a little loose change out of them, trying to get them to buy this painting, that car, this precious little Ming vase.  They really start thinking that maybe they are just too fabulous.  And the more money they make, the more Porshes they buy, the more prople seem to adore them!  Rich people desparately want to believe their own press, they need so severly to think they are one of the chosen.  This is what turns then into monsters.

I know this rich Hollywood TV producer who decided that she wanted to be a singer.  She decreed she would have a lounge act at a club.  She wore lipstick an inch thick, a spangled tube top and chiffon harem pants, and croaked out Cole Porter numbers.  It was a toss-up whether to watch her or kill yourself.  But everyone who was in the TV business or who wanted to be in the TV business came to hear her.  This includes every journalist in L.A., all of whom have sitcom pilot scripts in their glove compartments.  So our canteuse got rave reviews and was told by everyone how incredible she was.  But after a couple of nights the TV people left and the regular people arrived.  And then ther overripe fruit started flying.

Now, this TV producer is an utter monster.  But once she was a normal person, and there is still a normal person trapped in there somewhere.  And this normal parson, like all normal people everywhere, is riddled with insecurity and self-loating.  When people suck up to her, her ego is massaged, but here soul knows it's a con.  Her soul knows we only like her for her money and her ability to get us jobs.  This makes her hate us, then herself.  This makes her feel empty and alone.

After they threw the fruit at her, the TV producer went out and bought herself a Ferrari and a beach house, then fired the entire staff of a TV show.  Rich people only trust money.

I say we stop this sucking up and treat them with the contempt they deserve.  They have all the money, what more do they fucking want?  And if we treat them really, really terrbly, they'll really, really like us, and start showereing us with money! :silly:

Hey Morli, :smile:

No offense taken at all.
We both know what went on in Richardson, for me it became a violent experience within 10 minutes entering The Group.

I too, would like to know more info. about those in charge, and more about staff names, admittance policies, crisis control and management, hiring req's., . . . those sorts of things.  If these people are still "practicing" they need to be watched.
From what I've learned, these replacement facilities seriously network with one another and have some of these "rehab's" former employees on payroll.

On a different note, sometimes I like to blame it on the SADD disorder, but Christmas and Thanksgiving simply don't represent the special meaning before Straight Inc.  Before yesterday, I hadn't seen my Dad since X-mas 2000, and even longer with my mom.  It's hard to get enthused around family and put your fake on, when you know they were laughing and having a great time - while I despatate, lonely, angry as Hell, and was considering hurting and/or killing my oldcomer with a toilet top and escaping that strange, filthy home.  Thanks to a few choice host families, X-mas songs make me sick to my stomach - almost physically.

One host family would actually take our food away if we didn't eat it in within 2-3 minutes.
Who am I, Homer Simpson?  When they took it from the newbies the parents actually laughed about it - it was a daily kick for them. They would also let everyone wrestle in the bedroom all the time. I remember one time I got so mad cause I had no desire to partake in that shit, that I shoved a guys head through the fucking window.
Parents weren't too happy.  I smiled all day.

To this day, while I do forgive my folks to some degree, I still find it impossible to believe that as grown adults (40+) in 1988, that they heard and witnessed all the violence and neglect and thought all was peachy keen.  I told them everything I had seen that I had buried deep down - even though I had been threatened by 5th phaseres and other 4th phasers not to say anything.
When I decided to plan my escape I told my parents everything a few days before I ran.  They were livid with me and didn't do anything but threaten to send me back to my probation officer IOW(jail).  Lucky for me they didn't know I was leaving in a few days when I got paid at work!

They were pissed even though they had seen the bruises appearing on my newbies, seen the dried blood on clothing, the unexplained swelling, CARVINGS on flesh.

So I was homeless until a former co-worker took me in. That person slipped me a mickey and I was abused me even more - but that's a much longer and different story.

Eventually, the folks did come to somewhat of a realization (not quite self-actualization, but we're all working on that one), that all those MI's they read at night, where my new comers were describing physical and emotional abuse in that building just might hold some truth.

Voila!  My folks let me come home.  Amazing, since we had yet to address the fact that I had run from a court order to be there.  They were now protecting me?  Hiding me? Telling me not to answer the door.  Stay inside where it's safe.

Today, if I bring up the subject they don't say anything.  I can't get but a word or two if that, more like a grunt.
This site though, has helped me look more to the future now, and letting some of the past go along with other survivors has helped.

Gotta agree with you about Texas.
With people like Dubya, Tom Delay, Rylander and the like, we have some of the biggest boneheaded politicians around.  Tom Delay probably scares his own Mom.

It would be awesome,however, to meet you and Rich (and anyone else from Richardson/Irving) who has found this forum, and who agrees that Straight was pure mind control.

Having a cookout at the lake and burning a few Straight Exec's at the stake maybe?  
That would be fun.


Peace to all.

David
Richardson 88/89

    It grieved me then and now grieves me again when I direct my mind to what I saw; and more than usual, I curb my talent, that it not run where virtue does not guide; so that, if my kind star or something better has given me that Gift, I not abuse it.
The Inferno - Dante Alighieri

To Abush76,

God bless and best wishes.

It's hard to know what to say in our forums
sometimes, the torment we experienced in there still haunts me today.
There are alot of us here who truly care about the others who were trapped in that place.
We are here to get this stuff out there in the open, and hopefully it will help others who consider putting their children in places such as Straight.
I don't have a problem with an in-patient drug rehabilitation, however, parents and law enforcement MUST THOUROGHLY INVESTIGATE these places before their children are admitted.

I'm glad you had someone who gave you some comfort.
I left on 4th phase after one of my newcomers was beaten to a pulp in the timeout room.
While I did my share of screaming at people, I like to think that I treated the people who were under me as best as I could.
I mean, I got put there straight from jail (weed),and wasn't there 30 minutes before I told them to send me back.
I knew what was happening was fucked up.

Stories such as yours do need to be discussed - the public needs to know what goes on in some of these institutions.

Thanks for posting and take care.

Peace.
David
M.I.A.  88/89

well written.

Gduncan,

Thank you for that post.
It made me see our old building in my minds eye so clearly, my eyes started to water.
What you said about the songs and the 3 second water "gift" also contributed.

Next time I'm in Dallas, I'm going back to that fucking building and ask if I can walk through it - especially if I can do the exact same route when I first entered.
Going into the building itself seemed normal enough.
Being interviewed by some bonehead who is paid to tell you and your parents that you are a "druggie" (my mother still spouts that word 14 years later).
No suprise there.
An easy sell to most of the naive parents.
But then . . . they grab your beltloop and walk you into that disturbing room.
The one with 250 people thrashing their arms and jumping up and down in their chairs.
I started fighting those fuckheads right then.
They looked like they were insane, part of a cult.
It was the weirdest thing I had ever seen.
And then, I told these people to take me to jail before I hurt someone.
5 point restrain - hands over mouth.
This was my first day.
When I was in jail for having some weed, at least I could see my girlfriend, sleep when I want, not be deprived of food, shower however long I want, see my parents and talk with them on the phone (or anyone else for that matter), not be hit, spit on, made to talk about sex.
The list goes on and on . . .

Anyway, I am going to walk through that place again.
I think it would be good for all of us who suffered in those buildings to do the same.

David
M.I.A. 88/89

mmmmmmmmmm.

BURGER! :smokin:

Be Afraid.
Be very afraid.

These are scaaaaaary people.