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Messages - 85 Day Jerk

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It's been awhile since I posted............. sorry about that.  As for myself, I used to go through the ear ringing thing quite a bit, and while it was a little unsettling, I never really worried about it simply because it happened when I was feeling happy, or in control of my surroundings.  I honestly think that it comes from holding in feelings, like anger in the workplace or whatever over a long period of days and pressure and fluid builds up in the inner ear.  Eventually you either resolve the issues and start smiling and the muscles relax and *pop* the pressure is relieved and the ringing comes as a result, or you start climbing the ladder of a water tower with a high powered rifle strapped over your shoulder.  

The sudden wake up stuff happens to me at night and I wake up hearing things that came from outside, yet sounded right next to the bed.  Just for the hell of it, I checked the weather sites and found that for the most part, the times I was awakened coincided with the exact same time as the dew point for that morning.  That is the time when the moisture in the air begins to condense onto objects.  When this happens, sound travels much farther and with greater clarity, so a cranky starter on a car a half a mile away sounds like Freddy Kruger with a chainsaw right at the foot of your bed.  I hope this helped      85 day Jerk still stuck in Cleveland, TN

Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Re: Newton trying to skirt the law AGAIN
« on: October 27, 2009, 03:08:51 PM »
There is nothing wrong with Miller Newton.......   All the man needs is a little love and admiration.  I myself would love to be there dressed in a Gorilla Suit as I lay a big ole monkey paw of support on that dear, dear old man's shoulder and gently ease him back into the soothing salt water and Baptise him until there are no more bubbles of redemption coming forth from him.   After that, we can take Miller and do a re-make of "Weekend at Bernies" by propping him up on a custom rig, water skiing him all along the Gulf Shore waterfront and selling advertising banner space.  :flip:  :flip:

On second thought, there is nothing really funny about Miller Newton.  I used to not get too worked up over him because he really was not a part of my program.
I graduated (stepped) in late August of '79, just in time to finish my last year of High School free from the clutches of Straight, and back then Straight was the old Morgan Yacht Building on 72 street the other side of the tracks from Tyrone Mall.  There was no NEW BUILDING and all there was to be seen was a decrepit old Gas Station that parents claimed was gonna be part of the new building.  Next to that was cleared out scrubland that would be the new Straight Building and up the frontage road almost to the curve was a really shitty trailer park.  This was a good 15 years before Gateway Industrial Park was even started on.  The paved road ended at the trailer park and then became a wide road of crushed shells, sand and dirt that led to the Toytown Landfill.

I just remember Miller Newton as a parent standing up in open meeting.  He always had this pissed off look on his face like he needed to take a shit real bad, but the toilets were all out of order.  I was too young and naive at the time to recognize the look for what it really was, the look of an extreme pscychotic that stops at nothing to obtain their goals.  That man saw an opportunity and went with it.  It remains to be seen whether Newton wrangled his way into the leadership of Straight, or whether he was recruited, but I do remember a HUGE falling out once he gained power.  I was a graduate by then from the program as well as High School along with several friends, and yeah it did fuck us up.  We were promised a place to come and meet and stay in touch,  and now we had this terminal power freak fucking up everything we had deserved.  Within the time the group moved from Morgan Yacht to the Gandy facility, me and my friends I graduated with knew NOT ONE single person below 5th phase, I mean why the hell would we?  Straight was over for us, and it had absolutely nothing to do with drugs.  I had friends that "screwed up" but I was'nt gonna go all to pieces over it.  We all in our hearts hated Straight for what it did to us, but what the fuck were we supposed to do?  How much can one fperson do on $3.15 a fuckin hour?  I was considered a king back then, because I had a job making $4.85 an hour that actually would pay over-time.  Miller got away with his shit because their were enough people willing to let him.  There were enough parents willing to pay someone to modify their childrens behavior for them.  It was there, it was convienient, effective, and accepted.  Just like dropping shit off at the dry cleaners, only some of us came back more fucked up than when we went in.  I saw what's left of Miller Newton on several occasions, and I know in my heart that that fucker is about 45% dead already.  That man gets no joy out of life, and I personally believe that God is keeping him alive for the sole reason that it is merely prolonging his agony.   Smoke one for me...

Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Re: Saying " I love you "
« on: September 09, 2009, 01:41:53 AM »
I find myself floating in a vacuum when it comes to actually saying "I Love You" to most family members.  During my phases at home, I remember on alot of nights I would instigate a crazy parody of the Waltons once the lights were out.  This gave everyone in the room including newcomers the chance to say what was really on their minds without fear of retribution.  It also gave them the last word following one of my brother Mike's b.s. Moral Inventory reviews which sometimes led to disaster.  We would all lie in the dark and come up with voices and I usually started by saying goodnight to my  newcomer.   The voice of Fat Albert was one of my favorites.  One night Brian Marble astounded us all after it had gotten quiet with a dead on balls accurate impression of John Wayne.  "Well lemme tell ya Pilgrim!"  Shit like that made things bearable.

In the here and now, I still can't even say "I love you" first to anybody.  I always have to second the motion, and even then it's not with any real conviction.  I still live in Public Housing and things have gotten a whole lot better following the eviction of a problem family and the inevitable drug induced stroke of the asshole downstairs that slashed my tires.  I do my tightrope walk through the delicate realities of living among desperate and deprived people that will mess up your shit in a heartbeat on a daily basis, and some of them, I have become close to.  I am the surrogate uncle to three mixed race kids.  When the foodstamps run out, I make sure the oldest boy has enough to eat by bringing over containers of chicken or spaghetti sauce that I claim I don't have space in my freezer for.  Other times, when people are just sitting around and the kids are resting up between fighting over toys, I'll steal away and come back with an armfull of freezy pops.  If a kid gets a flat tire, I tell em the "Tire Fairy" might fix it if they are good, and when they come home from school they see see their bike sitting on a full one.  I know these kids appreciate me, but I also know to keep a safe distance as well.

Finally, there is my church.  I still have a long way to go before the pastor calls me up to be a Deacon, but I know that day is coming.  There are still a few demons I need to put to rest for good.  I never thought I would belong to a church the way that I do here now.  They accept me for real, and that can be really scary.  It is sometimes almost painful to know how much people rely on you when you are still full of self hate and doubt.  The main thing missing in the church is music.  They have gone without a church Keyboard Player for over 3 years now.  I have dabbled with learning to play keys, but I am inconsistant.  There really is no excuse for it, because I have enough time on my hands living on Disability to learn every instrument in an entire orchestra.  I played "When the Man Comes Around" on my guitar for a Wednesday night service about a year ago, and the look on the peoples faces was incredible.  They were so grateful to hear something live and inspiring, rather than the canned music played over the PA with the powerpoint pictures on the screen.  Recently, a local sports bar has instituted an Open Mike night and last week I ran home and brought back my Fender Bass and my amp and accompanied a guy with an electric/acoustic.  I don't really know how to play Bass, but I just winged it, sorta like when you play a harmonica when you are drunk.  It went over surprisingly well and they are counting on me to bring it again Wed nite.  This led me to go to the Cleveland Public Library today because they have a copy of the "Complete Idiot's Guide to Playing Bass Guitar," and I definately need some pointers.  So, after I cross the street, a voice says, "Howdy Stranger, what brings you to these here parts?"  It was my sister, who was in her car getting ready to back out and leave.  We chit chatted for a while, and then came the vaccuum.  I filled it with a "You take care now, it's fixing to rain,"  as the first silver dollar size drops began to hit the parking lot.

Sean and Eric Arnaugh or Arnow?     I think the brother came in first.  He was a big sumbitch that the girls side drooled over.  He looked like Jim Morrison on Steroids, no shit!  He was sent to Patterson Horizons and stayed about 3 weeks in our home and was immediately given preferential treatment.  He was my stepbrother Mike's newcomer.  During an emergency shortage of homes for about 5 new guys that all came in the same fuckin day, I "traded" Eric for two smaller skinny dudes so they would fit in the car and have a place to stay.  He wound up pulling himself when he turned 18 and did'nt have my dad to try and talk him out of it, which may have been staff's intentions all along.

As far as Mrs. Arnow, jeez, she could make a guy open a door slam into his face.  She was one of the top ten Eye Candy Mom's during Open Meetings for damn sure.

Sean festered her way through the program and I remember Dr. George Ross liked to fuck with her because she was missing her front teeth and looked like a 7 year old.
She was finally alllowed to wear a dental appliance once she got Talk and Responsibilities.  I was standing "guard " at the staff office door by the water fountain in Morgan Yacht when Shawn's mom opened the door slightly and tapped my arm scaring the shit outta me, cuz I was really into my head at the time.   She handed me a jewelry box and asked me to run it over to the girls side.  When the Nazi girl on 5th phase gave it to her, Shawn burst into tears and immediately slipped it into her upper teeth.  From that day forward she was a totally different person.  I really don't know much about her program, since this happened around May of '79 and my ass was out the door that August and I may have attended 7 step group, but I made it a point to stay the fuck away from the program and Big Group.  The only thing I had to "give back" was FIRE and lots of it.   Bob in Tennessee     85 Day Jerk

Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Re: Bueller?
« on: June 21, 2009, 09:31:52 PM »
Any St. Petersburg residents still on the board, please do me a favor.  Go out to Placido Bayou in a small boat during the next full moon.  From the center of the body of water and facing due West, scream out the name as loudly as you can, Frau Blooker!!!!   Wait a minute and follow up with Guys Medication!  With any luck, the noise will carry to the Condo that Helen Petermann resides in, trigger a long repressed nightmare of me on front row and with any luck she'll have a massive heart attack and die in her sleep.  Thanks

I like to go out and have a good time as much as anybody.  Here in town there is a new sports bar opened up that is run by Lesbians.  So far they are kicking ass and bringing in customers from hayseed towns upwards of 22 miles away because they are the only place in a 30 mile radius that stays open til 2 a.m.  One of the big selling points for customers is that it is a smoking bar.  By smoking, I mean cigarettes, which leads to my stance on Marijuana.  If we got half retarted hillbillies willing to shell out almost 6 dollars for a pack of Marlboros, and the gov't is collecting half of that pack in taxes, just thing about how much revenue could be made with a LEGAL, factory processed pack of REEFERBOROS.........   I honestly think that if marijuana were legalized, regulated and taxed, the income generated would obliterate our deficit in as little as 3 years.  I know this may sound crazy, but I assure you I am neither drunk or high right now.  I think this is a good idea, and correct me if I am wrong, but I am pretty sure that legislation of this nature was run up the flagpole during the Clinton Administration, but got buried by other issues.

I still have'nt smoked in quite some time, but I am getting closer and closer to the day due to new friends that I have made.  Most of them are my age and hold my views on reefer and smoke it with reverence and not a crutch while leaving old reliable Devil Alcohol to deal with the day to day grind.  For me, daily use of reefer is simply too expensive and really irresponsible unless you are in a position of unlimited disposable income and little to no responsibilities, like you are a rock star, own your own business, or have a gold plated ass and killer breast implants.   WHAT DO YOU THINK?     85 Day Jerk, Hillbilly Hills, Tennessee

Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Happy McGraduation Day
« on: May 30, 2009, 08:10:10 PM »
My neice and several other young people celebrated the "graduation" of what I consider to be a bullshit form of christian based home schooling.  To make it worse, the ceremonies took place at ABBA'S HOUSE, one of the biggest mega-churches in the Chattanooga area.  The place smacks of fakeness and program.  I was all set to drive out to Hixson and it was if some invisible force was draining all the energy from me.  I kept forcing excuses on myself on why I should hurry up and go and all the people I would disappoint and all that shit, and then it just went off in my head like a bomb.  Fuck it!  There is no earthly reason why I should attend something that I do not believe in.  My neice is not even close to having a solid 6th grade education.  Her mother pretty much fudged all the necessary tests and paperwork all along.  It was literally the best education money could buy.  This is all a part of the same segment of control freak parents that force ritalin and Adderall on kids that have nothing really wrong with them because it is so much easier than parenting.  It's either pills, or home schooling, because nothing is good enough for these people.  Most kids that I have seen home schooled are inward social rejects that can't really think for themselves and have very little grasp of the world around them.  Sorta like the way I felt coming out of straight and graduating high school 9 months later at Bayfront Center Arena like a herd of cattle.  My graduation from start to finish was one hour and 18 minutes, symbolizing 12 years of hard work.  I saw less than 25 classmates from that day forward.  On a penisula that is only 62 Sq. miles where less than half ever moved from the first 10 years following graduation.  Sort of boggles the mind I guess.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Maybe if my family spent a little more time building me up instead of constantly tearing my down, this afternoon's activities would not have caused such an attack of social paralysis, but If I am gonna sit home feeling bad about something, I want to be the one making it all happen.  What's the point of using up an eighth of a tank of gas just to have others treat me like shit when I can stay at home and work my way out of it eventually?  I just did'nt have enough reserve strength to go through with it.  I lost my unemployment benefits due to computer snafu, an eagerly awaited interview never materialized, and it was all just a little too much for old Uncle 'Bob to handle.  Aw well, tomorrow starts another week.

One of the worst and most insidious effects of the Straight Program was what I guess you could call the HIVE MENTALITY.
At least for me, and the people I was at Morgan Yacht with, we tended to think alike, talk alike, feel alike, and act alike.
I got so used to this being the norm, that I carried it with me ( sometimes with disastrous results) way longer than any sane and rational person would have long after I left Straight.  My own personality was so thoroughly destroyed that I never acted for ME.  Instead I was just a mindless drone that acted on what I was programmed to do.

My twenties and early thirties are a dull and fog enshrouded mystery to me mostly.  At least I have photos of that time.
Had I not been fortunate enough to have lived in the same apartment building for 14 years, I honestly think I would have killed myself or done something so severely crazy that I would still be either in jail or Chattahoochie.  When I first came onto the board, I had just gone through a crushing defeat career wise and yet was under the hypnotic effect of smooth sailing brought about by a sucessful awarding of Disability Benefits.  For the first time in decades, I was taking it easy.
In an unconcious way, I began to view the world in the same way that I had done as a teenager.  I had no more worries, no hassles or pressures, it was like I was 17 all over again, and psychologically speaking, that's just about where my mind was.

It is no wonder that I came across as a goody two shoes wet blanket to alot of people.  I had no idea that I was doing it or acting like I had just 7 stepped either, and what's worse, in my own mind I actually thought the people I ran into on the boards and at the Conference felt pretty much the same way that I did about everything.  That could not have been farther from the truth.  I never had a relationship with my father or stepmother.  Absolutely none.  I did'nt know how to lie or steal from them.  I sure as shit did not know how to manipulate them, so basically I was their puppet, and later as a young adult in the workplace, I became a puppet for corporate gains.  EMDR therapy taught me just enough to get me into the next millenium fairly intact and even a little ahead in life.  I guess a lot of what's causing this act of reflecting comes from the age that I am now.  I never thought that forty six would feel like this.

I spent much of the weekend going over my 500 or so posts since July of 2003 and in those 6 years I made alot of friends and pissed off an equal number of others.  We had our ups and downs, and yet the forum has still survived.  I am not the same person I was 6 years ago, nor can I expect others to still be the way I last remembered them to be.  That which does not evolve tends to stagnate, and that which stagnates grows old much faster.  Sure, it would be easy to change my user name and post things like its all over and swell and peachy keen, but that would be too easy.  I am gonna remain the 85 Day Jerk and folks are just gonna have to notice the change.  Looking over my old posts, I was so dissillusioned, so out of touch, I must have come across like some kinda asshole, like them old "pops" who used to sit in the Emerald Lounge on Central Ave sipping beer and wine all afternoon until they don't realize the sun has gone down and the young ones are coming in from work and really don't have time for them.  They/We really were'nt there to listen to their "war stories" and our respect for them wore thin when they would get up and stagger to the rest rooms.  We just wanted to get our buzz on and quite frankly, we resented their presence.  I am still the same old Bob, and yet I am not.  I guess you could say I am running on a new operating system and we'll just have to see if it is any better than the old one was. :cheers:

Good Job,  I have'nt visited the forum in quite a while, but it is real good to see some positive things are going on.
Can anybody find out whatever became of a former State of Florida Senator named Jim Smith?  He would be about
56 years old by now and I am pretty sure he was a Democrat.  There was also another Jim Smith who was Republican.

Is this Orange Toilet thing a website done by ex Straight Survivors?

85 Day Jerk, Southeast Tennessee

For any former members of Straight or the Seed in Pinellas County, there is a therapist that provided me a great deal of help.  His name is Richard Fixler and he works for an organization called C.A.P. otherwise known as Counseling Associates of Pinellas.  His office is located about 100 feet north of the intersection of 16th Street North and 22nd Street North on the east side of 16th Street just past the light heading north.  His fees are pretty reasonable and he is well versed with Straight Inc. and Youth Camps and the damage that occurs in them.  

For me, I was sent there by my Vocational Rehabilitation Case Worker to try and unlock the reasons behind my self destructive tendancies in the workplace concerning poor management situations and my inability to deal appropriately with injustice in the workplace.  I had a pretty cut and dry history of losing jobs because I could not tolerate abuse in the workplace in any way shape or form, yet because I did not have access to a college education, I was forced to work in less desireable jobs and therefore subject to abusive supervisors who were less educated and out and out uncaring.  If I found myself in a situation that even remotely reminded me of my time spent at Straight, even on the subconcious level, the JERK in me would surface.  Take for instance, the St. Pete Times, which would work a man in 99 degree heat AT NIGHT and damn near work you to the point of a fuckin heat stroke, yell at me to back a truck up to the dock that should have been there a half hour before, but all the Dispachers were too busy smoking and bullshitting, so yeah, I "volunteer" and run out to a truck, start it up with the engine screaming full bore, throw it in reverse squealling the shit out of the clutch and tires, yell "Oh Shit!, Oh Shit! The Throddle's Stuck!!!!" while backing up at 30 fucking miles an hour, scaring the living shit out of everyone on the dock, and at the absolute last second, I would mash the clutch and brake and ease her in just as pretty as could be, get out of the truck and be like "What the fuck you look'n at, cantcha take a joke?"  

Them abusive fuckers put up with my Manic/Depressive antics for over 3 years, simply because they knew they could get a shitload of work out of me as long as they let me think I was still on top.  Had they not switched to a Tractor Trailer form of delivery to the substations, I would probably still be working for them to this day, but Federal Regulations at the time prevented me from obtaining a Class A CDL.  The same plant supervisors working in the Packaging and Press Departments who had laughed and joked at my antics for years, were now faced with the prospect of my working directly under them since I was faced with having to transfer, did'nt think I was so fuck'n funny all of the sudden and I found myself faced with the situation where management was just waiting to an excuse to terminate my employment.  It finally came two days short of my 38th birthday in 2001.  Because I threatened to sue under the Disabilities Act, I walked away with enough backpay, benefits, and unemployment to last me the next two years.  While I worked for the times, I drank like a fuckin fish, was an asshole neighbor to most people, and had absolutely no chance of marriage, unless the woman was as fucked up as I was.  Actually, if it were'nt for Straight, I may have knuckled down under the pressure, got stuck in a loveless marriage with ungrateful kids and be miserable, but I was able to fight through that shit and keep my personality intact, so here I am 30 plus years later, older, wiser, and still relatively fresh and ready to make something new and meaninful out of myself.  Sorry I got sort of sidetracked, but the EMDR therapy I underwent unlocked the rage that had been inside me and I no longer hold stuff in until it reaches the point where I act innappropriate in the work setting.  I have also managed to get a pretty damn good credit rating and am held in high regard by the community at large so I want to close by saying that if EMDR could help MY crazy messed up ass, I am sure it will do wonders for damn near anybody.   Bob in Cleveland, TN

Open Free for All / Re: Something Happening Here
« on: September 01, 2008, 02:39:09 AM »
Remember that bad ass Northeast Blackout?  Check out satellite photos from that time period and the dark areas will give you a damn good idea where the remote areas are.  Here in Bradley County Tennessee, there is a parcel of land known as Fletcher Park that has SHITLOADS of remote area  There are also areas of land that are inaccessable to many people because of steep creek banks, and many times these creeks double back on themselves and form little peninsulas that can only be traversed by a trecherous log balance beam act.  I have seen evidence of what I assume are "Rainbow Hippies" or such types camping out on these little islands.  I can honestly say that a person could live in such a place for quite some time, without fear of being discovered or harrassed, as long as they cleaned up after themselves and did'nt do anything to attract attention.

Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Re: new tune
« on: September 01, 2008, 02:15:03 AM »
Hey Bill, Bob here, the hardest thing about singing while playing is that you lose your place and forget the words.  I choked up while singing a Johnny Cash gospel song in church and it was pretty embarrassing.  A music stand is a real help.  If you got the chords and notes down pat, the main thing is to have a copy of the lyrics ready.  You can find lyrics on the net real easy, then just copy and paste onto Word Pad or Microsoft Office whatever, pick a nice big type font like 24 to 48 size and then print the words out onto a sheet of paper cuz hand written shit will mess you up when the time comes.

Playing guitar is alot like typing.  You never really start to cook until you break the habit of looking at your fingers.  Your finger tips have these things called nerve clusters and you should learn to let them do their job and play by feel.  Lately, I have been learning to play Bass and it is sorta like writing with Jumbo Crayons because everything is on a bigger scale, but I am finding it to be alot easier than when I first tryed learning guitar.  I only look down when my pinky has to hit a fret, cuz it's so much smaller than the other fingers.  

I remember me and some friends used to use an ironing board for lyrics.  We would tape them facing either way and that way, all of us could walk over and glance at them while playing and still be on the same page so to speak, plus it made a real handy place to set our beer on as well without messing up any equipment, and the best part was that it was adjustable.

Let It Bleed / Re: Stuff you've been listening to
« on: September 01, 2008, 01:43:05 AM »
Lady Luck smiled upon me recently as I found a very rare cd of the wonderfully hip John Lee Hooker entitled "Endless Boogie."  It was recorded in 1971 when the world was still a nice place and drugs were only a problem to those who had o.d.'d on them.  I had my dad with me in the truck Saturday and we listened to it while driving out to a discount shoe store in search of some bargain priced steel toe boots.
I had'nt seen him enjoy music like that since a special 60's Sha Na Na event a year and a half ago.  I also have a home made cd of various Iggy Pop songs from my collection of live performances and he even liked Iggy!  I could'nt believe it, 69 years old and rocking out to "Little Know It All."  He especially like "Shoe Shine Girl" which has a verse........ "as I sat high up above her, her cleavage I could see, I contemplated both of them, that's how she spell-bound me."  Elvis just did'nt have the knack for them kind of thought provoking lyrics.

Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Re: White Noise
« on: July 30, 2008, 01:59:28 AM »
Hey Woof, don't let it get you down.  This forum at times is much like a television station run by kindergarten kids.  The programming is at times wonderful, other times it is endless repeats, yet still other times you can't make sense of any of it and wonder why you bother tuning in at all.  To me it is much like fishing.  Most times it sucks in the end.  The only thing that really determines a good fishing expedition is what you bring with you in the first place.  If ya brought beer, hey, it don't matter WHAT you catch, you are in for a good time ya know?

I'm gonna take us back to around October or November of 1980...........

It was a good night.  A Friday night and a few of us had agreed to meet at the Central Plaza Twin Cinema to catch the Midnite Movie.  In one theatre they were playing the Warriors, and in another they were gonna show the Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I had heard all kinds of crazy shit about the Rocky Horror from Robert Ward and Scott Travis.  Scott was adamant about this retired insane Korean War Vet that patrolled up and down the aisles with a fuckin HUGE pitbull with a spiked collar.  This lunatic was legendary in his appearance and always gave forth the same speil.  "I don't wanna see no goddamn toilet paper, no squirt-guns either!"  "That goes for any rice throwing too!"  "I catch any sumbitches throwing rice, an I'll throw yer ass out on yer ear!"  "Any one don't like the rules can take it up with my dog then, goddammit!"

We rolled our eyes and he finally walked back up the ramp to the rear of the theatre and took his position by the exit doors.  The theatre was fairly quiet for such a packed house.  I guess there were at least 120 teens spread out all over the place.  The theatre was pretty nice and the seats much more cushy and wider than the crap we have now.  There were even these huge red velvet curtains that would part real fancy like once the movie started.  The lights went out and I was astounded to see a huge set of bright red lips and nothing else up on the screen.  After the opening credits, we were greeted by Charles Adams, a staple of many horror films.  Before any of the ritual yelling and chanting got under way, someone yelled out something new, something original.  "Where's your fucking neck?"  I turned around and it was none other than Dave A-----son.  He made it a point to goof on the apparent lack of a neck on the narrator all through the movie, every time the guy made an appearance, and in the weeks to come it sortof caught on, and became a routine thing you yell at the screen.  This was the first time I ever saw the movie, and I really liked the music, but the soundtrack had not made it to re-release at that time, pity.  The movie also had the added feature of some real die-hard fans that would dress up and act out the parts on the floorspace in front of the screen.  I did'nt really pay much attention to them, and they were pretty unorganized seeing how this was all still a fairly new phenomenon for St. Petersburg Florida.  I did'nt really realize just how cutting edge this shit was until they did a special on it on Dateline NBC a month later.  We were just a few months behind New York City, where it started and were keeping up with the traditions in a southern style sort of way.

The movie got out and we filed out.  Several of our friends had chosen to see the Warriors, which had a shorter playing time and they were waiting for us in the parking lot.  So were alot of rowdy assholes just itching for a fight and waiting to mess with the "Cast Players" who were dressed up like freaks.  After seeing the "Warriors"  these goons thought they were real bad ass and were looking for an excuse to trash some innocent bystander.  Surprisingly, the insane Korean Vet was no where to be seen.  I got as far away from the milling crowd as I could that were still heading for their cars, when the cat calls and threats started up.  It was getting pretty tense pretty fast.  Incredibly, the guy dressed as Tim Curry started walking towards the rednecks making the most noise.  I pulled my light jacket off and walked over by a planter/median and acted like I was tying my shoe.  I placed a tennis ball sized rock in my jacket and folded it up to make a cudgel.  Anyone aiming to do me harm was in for a surprise.  Turned out to be overkill on my part, as Rocky Horror just walked up the the leader of these goons and punched him the fuck out, high heels, make-up and all.  It was pretty cool.  Next thing you know, the rednecks are heading for their cars, and the Rocky Horrors were smacking them and chasing them and shit.  It was pandemonium for a while and funny as shit to watch.  This is how the '70's came to a close in that part of the world. 

Hope you liked it.  Thats how I remember it, and I remember really feeling for Woof at the time, because he stood his ground and I am pretty sure he was totally exposed that night seeings how he came on a motorcyle, if memory serves correctly.

There is a 53 minute documentary currently on You Tube that really explains the situation fully.  As far as light rail transit goes, our country used to have more back in the 30's and 40's than the rest of the world has now.  What happened you ask?  Standard Oil, GM, and several tire companies got together and started strong-arming small local governments to switch over to bus service over trolley and street car service.

My old Northeast neighborhood in St. Pete is a perfect example.  There used to be electric powered trolleys there up until around 1943.  You can still see places where the old tracks were paved over, especially after a heavy rain.  Light rail used to move people from the central part of small cities, and connect to the surrounding neighborhoods.  Following WWII
the automobile was king and the light rail systems were torn down and removed to make way for wider streets to accomodate the heavy traffic flow.  For those unfortunate enough to not be able to afford a car, there was always the bus, which was initiated with sweetheart deals and low start-up costs to the various municipalities.  GM did little to design buses for comfort and ridability, because they were way too busy making it seem like your dick would fall off it you did not own a new Chevy by Christmas.  With more and more cars on the road, fewer and fewer people rode the bus lines and soon cities across the nation were floundering with fleets of aging beat to shit buses that nobody wanted to ride.  The good old U.S. Government stepped in and began subsidizing transit systems to fill in the gaps, but still the main drive of our Government was to keep up the supply of cheap gas, exploit the shit out of foreign countries for their oil resourses, sit back and put the pedal to the floor like there is now tommorrow.  Well tomorrow is here and you can see it at                I hope you enjoy it.  It really showed me a thing or two.

see ya'll later, Bob in Tennessee

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