"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll..."

[BigElCat]

The title is gleaned from the opening line of The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger.

This thread is going to (eventually) be my autobiography. I chose Salinger's words by way of introduction, because he understands what it's like to be disaffected and disenfranchised. His book is sort of a bible for conspiracy theorists, and ultimately, almost everything is a conspiracy, IMHO.

Hence, the sub-forum.

Bear with me; I'm going to collect some previous entries I've made on social media, and edit them together. It's going to be 'choppy', and i'm not prepared to address any feedback y'all might present. If you find it boring, don't feel obligated to read it.

I'm going to try to avoid getting sued, or arrested for anything like a federal hate crime.

[BigElCat]

My earliest memory is from when I was about 20 months old.

At the age of 18 months, I contracted spinal meningitis. The doctors told my parents I had a 50% chance of dying, and a 50% of being paralyzed if I survived.

They gave me "an experimental vaccine" via a series of spinal taps. I don't remember any of this, but was told about it later on.

When I was 20 months old, I was able to start walking using one of those old fashion, portable, baby walkers. The kind with a 'lawn chair frame', canvas seat, and it would fold flat to be placed in a car. Any how, I was in this walker, in a house that had a strip of wood on the floor. This strip of wood was some kind of transition in floor covering as one would enter the bathroom from a hallway.

The walker wheels hit that strip of wood, I was pitch forward and hit my face on the bathroom tile floor. The walker snapped shut like a mouse trap, right where they had given me those spinal taps. The pain was intense, and that bathroom imprinted in my memory. It was all white, and very brightly lit. The toilet was on the right, wall-mounted sink on the left.

Things, in general, went down hill from here.

[BigElCat]

(space reserved for my earliest memories of dad).

My unresolved emotional issues, etc.

I remember a ton of stuff from age 4. 1969

A Tootsie Pop Drop lodged in my throat while I was swinging on our swing set. I could not breath at all. I ran to the front door, banged on it. Mom hit me fairly hard three times between my shoulder blades (the only time she ever hit me in our lives). I still couldn't breath, so she ran to a car (I think it was the '62 Fairlane Wagon). She threw me in through the driver's door and proceeded to drive toward the Doctor's office which about 5 blocks away. She started to run a stop sign but another car was coming through. She jammed on the brakes, I flew into the steel dash, and I could see the other car pass right in front us. The impact on the dashboard dislodged the tootsie pop drop, and I started wailing. I remember her telling the doctor that I was bright blue in color, he had let us in immediately. The doctor calmed us down, and assured us everything was okay. I remember that I wasn't scared of dying, because I had not heard about death at the time.

Later that year, our first dog was named Fluffy. Don't remember it's gender, but it got away and was run over in front of Hinkel's Candy Store about 5 blocks from our house (in a different direction from the Doctor's office). How cool was that, a store dedicated to candy ? Fluffy died; I remember Dad telling me that he would die someday, and I would die someday.

That was in Carlyle, Illinois.

He explained death again when Former President Eisenhower's funeral train went by, but we had to travel to another town to see it

[BigElCat]

Two FBI agents...kicked our door in when I was 8 years old. They issued mafia style threats to my dad, implied that my mother, sister, and I would be in danger if my dad 'interfered' with their investigation.

They wanted him to be the 'fall guy' / informant while they figured out who was using government owned earth moving equipment. Dad was Army Corp of Engineers, a regional manager of three federal lakes (GS 11 when the scale went to 13). He had to inventory millions of dollars worth of equipment, and it was being used for personal profit.

He was supposed to sign off on the inventories while they investigated. He refused, called a buddy at the Pentagon. That's when the FBI became all mafia style to us.

[BigElCat]

(reserved)

[BigElCat]

That's it for now.

When I get time, I'm going fill the gap between age 2 to age 8.

So much shit happened it's hard to believe.

Why do I want to share this, and why now ? I feel a sense of foreboding, like something major is going to happen to me within the next few years. I might even make the national TV news.

Anybody remember my story titled Twelve Years that I deleted from Audiokarma ?

I made the Kansas City TV news. The notoriety kept some awful people at bay.

[nailer]

Originally Posted by BigElCat

The title is gleaned from the opening line of The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger.

This thread is going to (eventually) be my autobiography. I chose Salinger's words by way of introduction, because he understands what it's like to be disaffected and disenfranchised. His book is sort of a bible for conspiracy theorists, and ultimately, almost everything is a conspiracy, IMHO.

I must've read a different Catcher in the Rye.

Religion being an excellent example. (See bold text.)

[RickeyM]

Originally Posted by BigElCat

That's it for now.

When I get time, I'm going fill the gap between age 2 to age 8.

So much shit happened it's hard to believe.

Why do I want to share this, and why now ? I feel a sense of foreboding, like something major is going to happen to me within the next few years. I might even make the national TV news.

Anybody remember my story titled Twelve Years that I deleted from Audiokarma ?

I made the Kansas City TV news. The notoriety kept some awful people at bay.

If what doesn't kill you makes you stronger you must be one strong MF.

[BigElCat]

My mother thought I had died when I had spinal meningitis. Not sure why. Guess she emotional prepared herself for the event of me dying, by concluding that I had actually died. I had to tell her from the time I learned to talk, that I was not dead. I didn't even know what death was. She was emotionally distant and even terrified of me. She kept telling me I was a ghost, and I would argue.

Dad made her quit telling me I was dead, by yelling at her, and threatening to beat her up. She finally conceded that 'maybe' I was not dead, but she said "you will be someday". She was just nutso. This is right around the same time our dog was killed. Just when I was figuring out what 'death' was. And yet she frantically tried to save my life when I was choking. I don't understand how she thought I was already dead. It makes no sense.

(stay tuned, the story gets more graphic)

[donquixote99]

Well, one idea: she doesn't have to dread you dying if you're already dead....