Jehovah's Witnesses Now Indoctrinating Toddlers In The Watchtower

One of my earliest memories was of that damn yellow book.

As a child, I don't remember having any other storybooks in the house.  It wasn't until I was in grade school, and had access to the library, that I read something "worldly".

My mom was very diligent in trying to educate me.  At the age of three, I was already reading and writing on my own.  At four, I was enrolled in the Theocratic Ministry School, giving sermons in front of the congregation, with the intent of making myself a better magazine salesman on the weekends. 

When most kids were learning nursery rhymes or fairy tales, I was memorizing the lineage of Jesus.  I even memorized the tribes of Israel.  All twelve of them.  To the tune of 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious', no less.

In the years since 1978, the organization of Jehovah's Witnesses have converted 'My Book of Bible Stories' into audio cassettes, CDs, and even a webpage.  Around 2006, they swapped out the cover to something less atrocious.  

Now, the Watchtower has taken a giant leap forward in the realm of religious indoctrination.  In the May 1, 2012, Watchtower, they have dedicated pages 24 and 25 to children under the age of three.  

That's funny.  That's not the picture I remember in the Noah's Ark story that I read as a kid.

That's the one.  Bald guy getting swept away by the current.  Mother and child clinging to life on the rocks.  No wonder I had horrific nightmares as a kid.

I Have Seen Death...And It's Pretty Friggin' Creepy

I was never told the story of Hanzel and Gretel or Sleeping Beauty (because of the "witchcraft"), but as a child, I learned, in detail, the prophecies of the bible book of Revelation.  They were my childhood versions of scary nursery rhymes.  For a kid, some of the verses had some pretty scary shit.  There were lions that breathed fire and had snakes for tails.  What really scared me though, were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

The Horsemen are spoken of in the sixth chapter of the book of Revelation.  They each ride on a different colored horse, white, black, red and pale or green (depending on which bible version you're reading).  Each Horseman/horse is symbolic.  I could go on for an hour about their symbolism, but to make a long story short, we're going to focus on the pale horse and it's rider.

Revelation 6:7-8 reads:

"When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, "Come!" I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hell was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth."

The rider of the pale horse was the harbinger of death.  As a kid, the pale rider scared the living shit out of me.  I had nightmares about him. What does this have to do with Super Bowl Sunday 2011?  A video was shot and distributed by Euronews of the protests in Egypt.  It has made it's way around the blogs online, and onto CNN and MSNBC.  It shows a green, ghost like figure, resembling a man riding a horse riding through a crowd of protesters and then over their heads, before disappearing into the air.  The "figure" appears at the center of the frame and moves from left to right at about the 1:18 mark of the video:



As an atheist, not only do I no longer believe in the prophecies in Revelation, but I believe there is a logical and scientific explanation for the image in the video.  I must admit however, when seeing it for the first time, a cold chill ran up my spine.  The memories of the stories came back.  They were memories that I would rather have left forgotten.

How 9/11 Changed Me

This marks the second year that I have posted this piece on 9/11.  It was the first post to The Daily Twitch on 09/11/09.  I hope you enjoy:


Growing up as a Jehovah's Witness, I was always told that it was wrong to salute the flag. I wasn't allowed to say the Pledge of Allegiance. I had to remain seated for the National Anthem. It's not that I had been intentionally disrespecting or desecrating the flag as a child. My parents never instilled in me the reasons why the symbols of our country, and the flag in particular, should be respected.

You can imagine the uncomfortable situations I had found myself in growing up. In the classroom everyday for years. At school assemblies. At sporting events. Countless dirty looks. People making comments under their breath. Even the occasional thwack to the back of the head with the words, "What's wrong with you? You a Commie or somethin? Stand up boy".

In my younger days, I saw it as an opportunity to "witness". To share my beliefs with others.  I would tell them that I wasn't standing because my religion wouldn't permit me to. Usually, that would be as far as I got. The offended spectator would turn a more enraged shade of red and that would be my que to face forward for the rest of the event and not make eye contact with anyone for the next 3 hours.

As I got older, I got wiser. I realized that by being in my seats during the National Anthem, I was only asking for trouble. So, I would generally take that time of the pre-game to go to the bathroom or grab a drink or a souvenir. Most times, I would just intentionally show up late to a game - skip the first 2 minutes of the period or the top half of the first inning altogether.

So how does this tie in to 9/11? I'll get to that in a second. But first: February 13, 1983. The Forum, Irvine, California. It was the NBA All Star Game. For some reason my dad was watching it on TV. I never remember him being much of a basketball fan. I've never been much of one either. But something special happened that night. The time came for the National Anthem. This is what we saw:


It gave me chills. As a 7 year old, I didn't know why. I had a feeling then that I couldn't put into words, that I wouldn't feel again until 18 years later. I left the church in 1996, but, out of habit I guess, continued my "tradition" of not standing for the National Anthem.

Then came September 11th, 2001. It's a day that, 8 years later, I still think about on a daily basis. We all tend to re-live the shots of the people running in the streets, the towers falling, and the planes hitting the towers. Today though, I had a different memory for the first time. I remembered the firefighters going into Ground Zero to tie an American Flag onto a beam of the World Trade Center. This was still while the area was unsafe. There was still a possibility of the surrounding buildings collapsing. It was their way of saying "We're still here. We're still standing".

When I saw that flag amongst the rubble, that feeling I first felt as a 7 year old had returned. It was pride. The flag reminded me of the anthem's lyrics itself: "Gave proof through the night, That our flag was still there, O say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave, O'er the land of the free, And the home of the brave". It waved over many a brave volunteer in the days and weeks following the attacks.

September 10, 2001, was the last day I refused to sit for the National Anthem. Since the events of 9/11, not only do I show my respect to my nation and its flag, but I sing along with the Star Spangled Banner, and get choked up at the end. Every time.

The Discovery Channel Gunman...Was A Jehovah's Witness

As if we needed further proof that you have to be crazy to be one of Jehovah's Witnesses, it has recently come to light that the Discovery Channel gunman was one himself. In a story from a local San Diego channel, the gunman, James Jae Lee is said to have been a "devoted Jehovah's Witness for a decade."

Mr. Lee stormed Discovery Channel headquarters Wednesday and took a number of hostages. He believed shows like Jon and Kate Plus 8 and 19 Kids and Counting (airing on "Hotdog In A Hallway Sundays") promoted breeding and over population of the earth. He wanted the Discovery networks to start promoting human sterilization and infertility. He thought that human sterilization treatments would even make great prizes for game shows to give away on the network too. His ideas took environmentalism to a whole new level.

Stories like this make me smile.

Interesting Fact

On this day in 1852, Charles Taze Russell, the man that founded the religion now known as Jehovah's Witnesses, was born. In his day, it was still acceptable to celebrate birthdays. I wasn't able to celebrate my first one until the age of 31.

So, Happy Birthday, Chuck! Asshole.

Should "Religious Bigots" Have Rights Over Us?

This was an interesting question posed in an editorial in a British Paper over the weekend. As it specifically mentioned Jehovah's Witnesses, I took notice, and I think it made an interesting point.

Should a Witness's "right" to refuse a blood transfusion for their children in a medical emergency be respected in the name of "religious tolerance"? Likewise, when it comes to a Christian Science family, should their "right" to refuse medical treatment entirely for their child, regardless of the circumstance, be respected?

There are a couple of things that bother me about that question. They are things that would only bother me as a person that has experienced aspects of the religion first hand. As a parent, and as a member of the ACLU, my instinctual thought is to say, "Yes, it is their Constitutional, First Amendment right to practice their religion as it is established, and to raise their child in it".

In November of 1991, a friend of mine was driving Southbound on the I-17 in Phoenix, AZ. Her tire blew out. She pulled off the side of the road and turned on her hazard lights. She got out and opened her trunk. Just as she leaned in, an elderly lady mistook her flashing lights for the traffic in front of her and hit her at almost 60 miles per hour. It severed her legs mid-thigh. She spent the last couple hours of her life saying goodbye to what family and friends were able to get to the hospital in time. With a transfusion, she could have lived a long life. She would have likely been a double amputee, but she could have walked again with prosthetics. She died before midnight that night. She was 19.

Did she die because of her faith, or because of peer pressure and fear? As a Witness, you have a card in your wallet that is called a "medical directive" or 'No Blood' card. It's like a Medic Alert bracelet. It isn't optional. It's REQUIRED. It has to be signed by one of the elders in the church and two witnesses. If you're a minor or unmarried, usually those witnesses are your parents. If you're married, one of those witnesses is your significant other. So, if you're ever in an emergency and you are unconscious, you have the three people most likely to have your back and kill you on the operating table signing the card too.

I thought of my friend as a hero 18 years ago. Now, she was just an unfortunate kid that was pressured by her parents to die for something she probably didn't believe in. If she wasn't pressured, I don't know what to think about her.

This is what pisses me off about the whole thing, if Jehovah's Witnesses banned blood completely, 100%, no questions asked, that would be OK with me. I would understand their beliefs and maybe, I said MAYBE, even support them. In fact, I'm sure that's what most of you think.

HOLD ON TO YOUR HATS FOLKS. THIS IS GOING TO ROCK YOUR WORLD:

JEHOVAH'S WITNESSES ARE ALLOWED TO ACCEPT CERTAIN "PARTS" OF BLOOD. Blood is about 55% plasma. Plasma is 92% water. For the most part, that other 8%, when separated into its different elements, is allowed. Platelets, which make up only .17% of blood...allowed. Red cells, which make up 45%...allowed. White cells...allowed. So, if they are transfused separately it's OK. Altogether...the worst sin that could possibly be committed toward God.
It's like saying that it is a sin to eat a ham sandwich. BUT...if you eat the ham, the Swiss cheese, the bread, the lettuce, and the mayo separately, it's fine.

Witnesses are allowed to accept these donations any time they are needed, but are forbidden to donate back into the supply or store their own blood to be used at a later time. This, to me, is religious bigotry. When you expect the world to help you, but, because of your belief system, refuse to help others, that's bigotry.

Hemophiliacs occasionally get a transfusion of a clotting agent called Factor VIII. It takes, in some cases, 2500 blood donations, or up to 14,000 kilos(30,800 pounds) of blood, to make one dose of Factor VIII. Witnesses are allowed to take transfusions of Factor VIII, but not allowed to donate back into the supply. That doesn't sound Christian to me.

So, now that I have let you in on some inside knowledge on the Witnesses and blood transfusions, what do you think? Should religions get a blank check? Should they be able to do as they please and get what they ask for without question?

Study Finds Witnesses Can't Keep Their Members

A new report from the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life was released last week which had some interesting information on Americans and religion. In it, it revealed that nearly three quarters of Buddhists in the U.S. were converts. And, only one in three Buddhists were Asian.

Most interesting to me was this tidbit: only 37% of those raised as Jehovah's Witnesses as children identified themselves as Witnesses as adults. I would be willing to say that a large chunk of the remaining 37% still call themselves Witnesses due to the fact that they're afraid to lose everything they have. It was the reason I stayed in as long as I did. I knew the things that I was preaching were wrong. I felt that I had to stay in to keep my family. I am glad to see that I am part of the 63% that was able to get out.

I Took A Belief Quiz

I took a "belief quiz" on beliefnet.com, just to see what religion would be suggested based upon my moral and spiritual beliefs. See if you could guess which religion came in at the bottom of the list? Yep, you guessed it, in 27th place was Jehovah's Witnesses at 12%.

Surprisingly, at the top of the list at 100% was Neo-Paganism, followed by Theravada Buddhism at 96% and Mahayana Buddhism at 95%, respectively.

Change The Channel In 2010

I am a person that never, I mean NEVER, make New Year resolutions. To me, they are pointless. They're a waste of time, and they always end up being broken. This year, however, I have decided to make one. I'm changing the channel.

It's a simple concept. If I am sitting on the couch watching television, I am not going to sit through a show that I have no interest in watching. I am going to pick up the remote and change the channel. Why aren't I doing that with my life? Why do I insist on "sitting on the couch" and letting other people and events dictate how my life is going to be lived? So, from now on, I'm changing the channel.

I have already removed certain contacts from Facebook. Why am I still wanting to be friends with people I have nothing in common with? Why do I bother when it comes to people that think they're better than me and my family? CLICK.

I have been sitting back for way too long and letting politics as usual happen in my community. Between Maricopa County, the City of Phoenix and the State of Arizona, there is always a need for a Democratic voice and an activist in the state. I have spent too many years on my ass as a citizen complaining about the Sheriff, City Council members and Governors as time has gone by. CLICK.

The Greater Phoenix area has more LGBT citizens than San Francisco, but a very fractured LGBT "community". Part of the reason why Arizona is such a "Red" state is because the gay community in the Phoenix area is not cohesive. I want to help change that. I want to help bring the community together. I am not sure how. Hell, at this point, I not sure if that is even a possibility. I have been a part of what has been considered the LGBT community in the Phoenix area for the better part of 14 years, and it has been downright embarrassing. The only time anyone communicates with each other is Pride. Lesbians distance themselves from the gay community. Even the gay community is split by the bar or club that is frequented by the individual in question. Leathers hang only with leathers. Bears with bears. Club kids with club kids. CLICK.

When I was first diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome, I was very discouraged at the lack of visible support in the state of Arizona. The website for the Tourette Syndrome Association Arizona Chapter was more than a year behind. It had no contact information. It had no information for support groups or online support. I found myself getting depressed pretty quickly because I felt alone in my fight. I am so thankful that I found Karen Miller. She almost singlehandedly has been keeping a number of local Tourette's support groups up and running. She not only has a group for young adults, but also one for children and for mothers of children with TS.

I don't ever want to see someone else in the same situation I was when I was first diagnosed with Tourette's. Lost, agitated and feeling alone is no way to start a lifelong journey with a neurological disorder. I am going to become an advocate for those with TS. I am going to blog about this as much as I possibly can. I am going to assist Karen with the support group with as much help as she needs. CLICK.

I am going to do the same with my PTSD. I have a unique perspective on it. Mine was a result of childhood abuse. I am not a veteran. I am not a casualty of war. I am a casualty of brainwashed parents.

That being said, let me make one thing clear. I am not, and have never been anti-God or anti-religion. I admire people that have a belief system or a level of faith that has role in their life. It is those people that make God such a central focus in their life that it trumps all other ways of thinking. They can't think for themselves. It's "God's way or no way". That is the problem I have with Jehovah's Witnesses. That is why I am no longer one. There are tens of thousands of people that make the decision to leave the church each year. Doing so, they are abandoned by their families and friends. I will be a voice for them as well. CLICK.

Change the channel in your life. Whether it be recycling your soda cans, or losing a couple of extra pounds. Donate some time at the dog shelter. Blog. Get off your ass and grab that remote.

Doing The Most Good

There is nothing that I hate more than religious commercials at Christmas time. It seems like there is always a religious organization or a political action committee out there that takes advantage of the backdrop of the holiday. I saw a commercial a couple of days ago that, at first, I thought was no different. But something struck me as odd. It was displaying what seemed to be Bible verses. The first one was Peter 10:17. I knew immediately that it didn't exist. There is no such thing as the book of Peter. There is either First Peter or Second Peter. Residual memories of my brainwashing. I continued to watch:

Chapter & Verse from Eastern Michigan Division on Vimeo.

I was speechless. Finally, a religious organization that was preaching salvation, and not by a heavenly means. This is a group that is "saving" thousands of people a day. People of all faiths, creeds, and colors.

Speaking of which, something struck me in that commercial. One lady said, "When I was stoned". Obviously, this is conduct that the church and the Bible looks down upon. They helped her anyway. This could not be any more Christ like in my opinion.

As a Jehovah's Witness, we never donated to any organization that had ties to another religious organization. We never accepted donations from such organizations, either. We also did not donate or receive donations from the Red Cross, because of their work with blood transfusions. When the tsunami hit Indonesia a few years ago, I donated to the Red Cross and made a blood donation as well. My mother made a donation to her favorite charity: the Watchtower organization. She sent money to have help her "brothers and sisters" in need. She did the same a couple of years earlier when a massive earthquake hit Kobe, Japan.

I was always taught not to treat people differently because they were a different skin color. It was acceptable, though, to treat them differently, or to deny them assistance because of the god they chose to worship, or worse, NOT to worship. That's really a sad way to live your life. I promised myself that I would never be that way once I left that mess. I also promised myself that I would raise my child to give to everyone that needed help, regardless of whether you agreed with them or not. That's what I liked about this commercial.

My little girl is only 19 months old and she looks forward to going to Walmart so she can put a dollar into the little red kettle. Once the holidays are over, we will find another way to encourage her to get excited about giving.

The holiday season is almost over. People will still be hungry in February, in July, and in October. The bell ringers may not be in front of Walmart after next week, but don't forget the Salvation Army. They do a great job at saving people. They do it without requirements. They do it because they want to help. Please do the same. Merry Christmas.

Soundtrack of My Life 12/13/09 - XTC 'Dear God'

Sometimes when you've had something force fed to you for so long, you become so repulsed by it that you'll never try it again. It sort of reminds me of the stories you hear of people that get caught smoking as a kid. Their father makes them smoke the rest of the pack until they puke. They never smoke again. Even in adulthood, the thought of smoking physically makes them ill. I have the same reaction to religion.

I was raised in a very strict, religious family. I was giving public sermons in front of my local congregation at the age of four. I was knocking on doors, preaching the "good news of God's kingdom" on Saturday mornings soon thereafter. I knew the Bible, inside and out, and could quote hundreds of verses by the time I entered grade school. I was brainwashed.

It only got worse as I grew older. My sermons became more complex and more in depth. I was offering prayer before the congregation, which was a pretty big deal.

As I grew older, and wiser, I started to realize that everything I was taught and everything I was teaching others was a lie. I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't keep preaching the "God loves you" line when I looked around the world and evidence told me that not only did he/she not love us, but he/she likely didn't exist.

I remember seeing this video on MTV when the song originally came out decades ago, and, after severing ties with the church in the mid 90s, I heard this song again on the radio. Since then, it has become one of my favorites. Caution to those that are light of heart: it is quite blasphemous, but it sums up quite a lot of my thoughts on God and religion. The video has the lyrics subtitled at the bottom of the screen as well. Some pretty powerful stuff.

Soundtrack of My Life 12/06/2009 - Nat King Cole 'The Christmas Song'

Growing up as one of Jehovah's Witnesses, I didn't have much exposure to the holidays as a child. I never knew the joy of opening up a wrapped present. I never got to see a Christmas tree up close in all of it's glory. I never heard any holiday song enough to learn the words to it. I didn't want to....except one.

I was very sheltered as a child. My parents tried to "protect" me from the dangers of this "worldly system of things" (yes, that was the language that was used in the house). What they failed to realize was that you can't control the stimuli that is being fed into your childrens' brains outside your home. You cannot control the music being played at the grocery store or at the mall. You can't control the music being played at Walmart or at Sears.

As I said, for the most part it had no effect on me. I really had no idea what I was missing out on. But when I heard that beautiful, raspy voice coming over the loud speaker, singing about that special day, I knew that there was something more to life that what I was living. That one song, those three minutes, convinced me that Christmas didn't have to be a religious holiday, but rather a time for giving and to be with family. I've always remembered that.

This was the first, and to my recollection, only Christmas song I learned by heart. It gives me a warm feeling inside every time I hear it, as I hope it does you.

"And so, I'm offering this simple phrase...
to kids from one to ninety two....
although it's been said many times many ways....
Merry Christmas to you....."

The Last Time I "Spoke" To My Mother

I knew this post was coming.

I've been thinking about it and contemplating it for a couple of weeks now and figured it is finally time to go there.

January 6, 2006, I was working in the office of the family business. My mom had just gotten home from the hospital the previous day, after spending 9 weeks practically locked in a room with a mysterious immune system disorder. The two of us got into an argument that started over furniture, of all things, and eventually, before it was over, led to me quitting the family business.

I was the operations manager of their trucking company. I did all of their dispatching, payroll, human resources, etc. I was the business. My father was out of state with a load, and my brother, still asleep at three in the afternoon. It was Thursday(payday), and times tough with the business. We didn't have enough to pay all the drivers. I really left them high and dry. So, in no uncertain terms, by leaving the business, I was also leaving the family. I was getting so tired of living a double life. By that time, I had been out of the church for 10 years, but still had to act like a Witness during the day.

I later found out that my parents had my little brother, who was 26 at the time, take over for my position with the company. They went bankrupt a little more than three months later. They lost their house, their two cars, and their fleet of trucks. He wasn't paying attention with the payroll software and inadvertently overpaid a number of the drivers tens of thousands of dollars.

I didn't speak with my mother again until the day after my daughter was born. I simply sent her an email with a picture of my little girl with her date of birth, name and weight. Two minutes later, I received an email response that simply said "Thank you".

Over the next couple of months, we slowly started exchanging email. I started to fill her in on the information on where I was and how I was now a husband and father. She started to fill me in on how they had all moved to the East Coast to be closer to my nieces during my little brother's custody battle.

Things started going well. For the most part, she kept religion out of the conversation. I kept out religion and politics. We had a couple of conversations that were surprisingly candid. She apologized for raising me the way she did. She explained that she did what she thought was right; that she did the best she could. I started to understand my mother.

I realized that all along, she had her issues as well. Looking back, she never really was all that stable mentally. She has always had issues with depression and alcoholism. I would also say that she was probably Bipolar. She needed that church as much as they needed her. It was a family to her. She needed structure, and found it there. Honestly, I think she would probably leave the church if she had the ability to think for herself, but it has been a part of her life for so long she wouldn't know what to do without it.

Occasionally, the crazy phone call or email would come through. I would get the "I'm not feeling right talking to you because you're not a Witness" line every now and then. Sometimes, she would even forget that she said that to me. Other times, she would pursue it. She thought that she would be able to end her communication with me but keep a relationship with my wife and daughter. I had to explain to her that family doesn't work that way. You can't pick and choose who you want to associate with and who you don't. My family is a package deal. It was all or none. She couldn't understand that concept. She didn't think that was fair.

Fast forward to June of this year. I'm at a movie with my wife, daughter, and my wife's nephew from out of town. I start getting text messages from my mom. She tells me that there is something she wants to tell me regarding my ex sister-in-law and an upcoming court hearing for custody. My brother and her have been fighting for those girls for years. My ex sis is OK. She really isn't that good of a mother, but when I wasn't talking to my mom for those three years, we kept in contact and she let me talk to my nieces on a regular basis.

Side note: My nieces have been through pure shit during this whole time. Their dad is an alcoholic, addict, deadbeat. Their mom lets them go to school in winter wearing shorts and sandals. My mom cares more about their well being than their parents. Their parents are in a pissing contest. Both girls are showing signs of serious mental issues already at 7 and 5. One will be pregnant at 14 and a stripper at 16...the other will end up being institutionalized.


My mom starts saying that she really wants to tell me but she doesn't trust me that I won't go and tell my ex sister-in-law. I ask her what would give her that idea. She says, "Because of what happened". "What happened", meaning me leaving the business back in January of 2006. She wants to tell me a secret, but can't trust me with information because of that day. I explain to her that I am actually in a movie theater, and that I will email her later that night.

I actually am so angry, it takes me two days to email her. I first talk to my therapist to see if it's even a good idea to say what I want to say knowing how she will likely take it. There are some things in the response that I intentionally say just to get a point across. For example, I have never, in my 34 years, purposely cursed at my mother. Here is the email in it's entirety:

"sorry i didnt get back to you yesterday.....was sort of a crazy day. about our conversation on wednesday night....the only thing i can say is whatever....

just in the last week, things have gotten to a point with jessi where she cant handle having the dog and the baby in the same room.....at the moment i have both of them crying and she's in bed.....she's lost it.....

i'm crazy on top of it all.....my life is quickly going to shit.....we cant pay our bills...our van will likely be repossessed in the next couple of weeks....we had to do a payday loan so we could buy groceries for the next week...we have $30 in the bank to last us a week and both cars are on empty and i have a therapy appt next tuesday.....

im not getting a paycheck next friday because my short term extension wont be approved until after payroll is sent out.....and jessi's is gonna be short... maybe 800 total....so we're gonna have to do another payday loan next week to pay rent.....

i have my psychiatrist and my Mayo neurologist arguing over treatment because they disagree over what i actually have....in the meantime my ticks are getting worse......and im not able to hold a job of any kind......

so....when it comes to your "moral dilemmas" or your "trust issues" with me.....i really could care....trust me or dont.....talk to me or dont....i just honestly dont have the energy or the ability to care at the moment.....that is at the bottom of my priority list right now.....ive got more important things to focus on......

go to www.youtube.com/thedailytwitch to see what's going on in my world....

i love you"

The Youtube link used to link up to an old page of mine that no longer exists. I haven't heard from her since. At this point, the ball is in her court. Since the email was sent out, I have been diagnosed with both Tourette's and PTSD. The van was repossessed. We did make the rent payment, somehow, but have struggled to make each subsequent rent payment. I am at a point in my life where I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again.

So, the email still rings true. To quote a line from Jack Nicholson in 'As Good As It Gets': "Sell crazy someplace else, we're all stocked up here".

Autobiographical Songs Part IV

Jehovah's Witnesses don't believe in heaven. Well, not in the traditional sense. They don't consider it to be an option to be their final resting place. They don't believe in hell either.

They believe that when you die, you die....that's it. You become worm food. You lie in the ground. Romantic, isn't it? They believe that soon, god(yes, I am intentionally using a small G), will bring an end to all the evil and wickedness on earth in one big showdown called Armageddon. This is when he will smite all the evil ones with floods, and earthquakes, and lightning bolts shot from his arse. From what I have been taught by my mother, this is the wait awaiting myself and my family for not following god's will.

In October of 2006, My Chemical Romance released 'The Black Parade', an emo powerhouse of an album. Produced by Rob Cavallo, the producer of 'American Idiot', this was a masterpiece of a record from front to back, and easily, the best rock album of the year. Track nine was a little ditty called 'Mama', which actually had a cameo from Liza Minnelli. With the events that were occurring in my life at the time, I especially took pleasure in this track. To this day, I still have a Devilish smile every time I hear it.

Below are the lyrics and the song for those of you who haven't heard it. Enjoy.

Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
I'm writing this letter and wishing you well,
Mama, we all go to hell.

Oh, well, now,
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry,
Mama, we're all gonna die.

And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.
And when you go don't return to me my love.

Mama, we're all full of lies.
Mama, we're meant for the flies.
And right now they're building a coffin your size,
Mama, we're all full of lies.

Well Mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue,
You should've raised a baby girl,
I should've been a better son.
If you could coddle the infection
They can amputate at once.
You should've been,
I could have been a better son.

And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.

She said: "You ain't no son of mine
For what you've done they're gonna find
A place for you
And just you mind your manners when you go.
And when you go, don't return to me, my love."
That's right.

Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
It's really quite pleasant
Except for the smell,
Mama, we all go to hell.

2 - 3 - 4
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ohhh!
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ma...

[Liza Minelli:] And if you would call me your sweetheart,
I'd maybe then sing you a song

[Gerard Way:] But this shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun,
You would cry out your eyes all along.

We're damned after all.
Through fortune and flame we fall.
And if you can stay then I'll show you the way,
To return from the ashes you call.

We all carry on (We all carry on)
When our brothers in arms are gone (When our brothers in arms are gone)
So raise your glass high
For tomorrow we die,
And return from the ashes you call

Autobiographical Songs Part III

On January 6, 2006, I quit my job with the family business, and, a couple of weeks later, stopped all communication with my family altogether. This caused major mental and emotional issues to develop since the situation was a long time coming. Instead of walking away from my family, it was more like a "mutual disowning". I was no longer a Jehovah's Witness, and had gotten to the point where I was not going to play along with their requirement of living a double life any longer.

I was hurt and confused. I felt like I had done something wrong. I was grieving the loss of my family, especially my mother. Throughout my life, she had been my best friend and the one that had always been there for me. I had set her up on a pedestal for so many years, and I felt as if I had let her down.

In July of 2006, Blue October released the single, 'Hate Me'. I had heard it on the radio a time or two and instantly thought of my mother. I thought of how much I had let her down, and how disappointed she had to be in me.

Later that next month, Jessi, my girlfriend at the time, and I were watching something on TV. Something came on that reminded me of my mother and I started to cry. I cried about the situation quite a bit during that time, but this time was different. My whole upper body jerked, as if I had been hit with defibrillator paddles but I didn't have a bed behind me to catch my shoulders or head.

"Are you OK?"

"I don't kno..." BAM...It happened again.

"What's going on hun?"

"I have no idea"....BAM.....BAM..BAM BAM...By now I'm hysterically crying and jerking uncontrollably. The tics are coming about once every 2-3 seconds, the next more violent than the last. By now my hands are shaking. I know it has to be stress induced.

Jessi draws a hot bath for me. I'm still crying, ticking, shaking....but now rocking front to back. I keep saying to Jessi, "I fucking hate her. I fucking hate her. How can you do this to your own fucking child?"

"I don't know hun. I don't know."

That was the night that I had my first Tourette's tic. I was diagnosed almost three years later, and then diagnosed with PTSD 5 weeks after that. I have had a total of 5 days without a tic since that night in the bathtub. Needless to say it was a pretty memorable night.

So what does this have to do with the song? That was also the night where the role of "Monster" in my mind was played by my mother instead of by me. I used to think that I was the black sheep, the odd man out. I realized that night that I was the one that finally said no to the years of brainwashing an manipulation and abuse at the hands of my mother. The song initially had a meaning to me of "sorry I'm not who you wanted me to be, so I'll drive as far as I can away from you so I can't hurt you anymore". Then, overnight, it became a "look what you tried to do to me, but I was stronger than you, so I'll drive as far as I can away from you so you can't hurt me anymore with what you consider love".

To be honest, the song still throws up some very bad memories. So many, in fact, that I can't even listen to the song without going into a breakdown. I used to sing it all the time at karaoke, but it's to heavy of a song to sing. Still a damn good song. That being said, I haven't previewed the clip below, so forgive me if it is not complete.



Interesting side note: The "in house" portion of the video, where it follows the lead singer through the house, was filmed in one take. They sped the audio track up during filming 300% to get the slow motion effect. The video was filmed in the house he grew up in as a teenager.

A Personal Coming Out Story

With today being National Coming Out Day, I thought I would give the story of the day someone very close to myself and my family came out of the closet. That day is today, and that individual is me. I am bisexual. My story starts out confusingly enough, many years ago....

My mother's way of teaching sex education was almost encyclopedic. Her methods of explaining "the birds and the bees" were so technical and used so many "appropriate" words, that, until the age of 14, I actually thought that a vagina was the female word for the butt. I remember asking my mom what was wrong about being gay. Her response was, "They do it up the butt". I thought, "Well, doesn't everyone"?

I remember being fascinated with breasts at an early age. It didn't matter how big or small, how perky or round, count me in. But again, it wasn't until the age of 14 that I found out what made a woman...well, a woman. I was taking the trash out to the alley dumpster. The next door neighbor kid had thrown away part of his porno stash, and, on the top of the pile, was a copy of Penthouse Genesis. Genesis was the magazine Penthouse released at the time that showed the things that Penthouse couldn't get away with.

I opened the magazine up and was disgusted. "Oh my god. This girl is deformed. She has two asses. So does this one.....and this one. Oh. My. God....These. Are. VAGINAS? I'm supposed to put mine in THERE? NO WAY. NO THANK YOU." But I hid the magazine anyway. I was a "straight" kid. That's what I was supposed to do.

Throughout my teens, I fantasized about every girl I knew. Boys weren't even an option. Masturbated like a rabid wolverine. Sex education class was offered in high school health class. Of course, my mom refused to let me stay in class to participate. She felt that it did nothing but "encourage young people to have sex". I was hoping it would explain to me how sex worked. I remember seeing the pictures on the doctor's office wall of the male and female bodies split in half with everything labeled, and I still couldn't find most of the parts ON MY OWN BODY.

My health teacher was a little, old, Native American woman, who loved to inflict punishment on the two or three Jehovah's Witness kids that refused to take sex ed in her class every year. She had us go to the library every day for that period. Our alternative assignment was a 60 page, hand written, single spaced report on the health topic of our choosing. Just to be a smart ass, I chose to write my paper on sex. Most of my source material came from a Witness book called 'Questions Young People Ask: Answers That Work', which supposedly dealt with the moral and ethical issues involving sex and dating, but was mostly the perspective of a bunch of 80 year old men on the current teenage sex and dating scene. Got an A.

Anyway....moving on. As I was finishing high school and becoming an adult, all of my "worldly" (non JW) friends were saying "Come on, man. Just come out already." But I felt that I was firmly 100% straight. I had known other people in the church that were flamboyantly gay that had families and felt sorry for them. But me, no sir, straight as can be. At the time, I was still very homophobic, and had a hatred for gays and lesbians. I was brought up to hate them. My parents even taught me, "Don't call them Gay...that's their word. Call them homosexuals. That's what God calls them".

I started working at Chase Bank in '98. They were a very diverse company. At the time I worked there, I believe 38% of the employees on the campus were LGBT. That really opened my eyes. When all 3 of my supervisors, my Director, and two of my cubical mates were gay men, you can't help but break down that wall. You start to realize, "What is everyone so scared of. Why are these people a threat"? That was just the beginning of my experience with the gay community.

I answered a personal ad around the same time(I had stopped practicing as a Witness in 1996), and met a girl for lunch. Her name was Angel. We met at a sub shop. She walked in with steel toe boots, a tank top, shaved head and a pierced nose. It was love at first sight. At the end of our meal, she said, "Just to let you know, I'm lesbian."

"I sorta figured".

"My girlfriend cheated on me with some dude and I thought I would get back at her by doing the same. I can't go through with it though".

"That's cool".

We were best friends from that moment on. She took me to her favorite hang out, Ain't Nobody's Biz, a lesbian bar in Central Phoenix. We would go for karaoke every Monday night. Angel eventually started telling me, "Dude, you need to come out". This is when it got really confusing.

I placed an application at a local gay book store and gift shop, the Obelisk, as a cashier/stock person. I figured the best way to know if I'm gay is to immerse myself in the community. During the interview, the owner asked me how long I had been out to my parents. I told him I was straight. He said, "You realize, this is a GAY book store. You're going to have days where all you'll do is alphabetize the GAY PORN or GAY EROTICA". I explained to him my confusion and my dilemma. I told him, that to me, this was the most logical way to figure things out. He hired me on the spot.

My god, what an experience. First, to realize that gay people just weren't Puerto Ricans in pink feather boas...but old committed couples, gentlemen that reminded you of your grandpa, businessmen, the girliest of men, and the most embarrassed manly high school football players coming in after school to pick something up for their boyfriends.

The owner taught me so much. He was never to busy to answer a question. "What's Stonewall? Who's Harvey Milk? What's the deal with the rainbow? Why are the fat, hairy guys into me?" One thing he said to me, something I'll never forget, is this: "Adam, so many people classify themselves based upon who they're fucking. Being gay, or straight, or bi, is a lifestyle. It's in here(points to heart) and here(head). To base your whole life upon who you're sticking your dick into...that's just sad". I really took that to heart. I realized that I was physically attracted to women but I thought like a gay man.

Around that same time, Angel took me to my first gay club. I walked in and looked around. I then sat down on a couch and started crying. It was the first time I had been somewhere where I felt like I belonged, like I fit in, like I wasn't going to be judged or looked at funny. Angel leaned over and said, "I know honey. It's ok. Welcome home".

That night, I must have had a dozen guys come up to me. Poor Angel would step in and say, "Sorry, he's one of us, but he's not one of us just yet". Over the years, with Angel by my side, I made out with a couple of guys. I enjoyed it. But nothing much has happened other than that.

Since Angel and I had parted ways, I kept the secret to myself. Then came my wife. We got to a point in our relationship where I knew I could completely be myself and nothing I could say or do would scare her away. We would talk about our fantasies, and I would test the waters. We would be watching TV and I would test the waters and say something like, "Damn Taye Diggs looks hot", and she would be cool. Then we got to talking.

She wants me to be myself, just like I want her to be herself. I know she's not the country girl she was sort of pretending to be the night that I met her. She's told me she loves the fact that she has someone that can love her and be romantic with her and still have those times where she feels like she has that gay best friend.

I've been involved, in some way or another, supporting the LGBT community for a number of years now. In Albuquerque, I DJ-ed at Pride two years in a row. I'm proud to say today that I an now officially part of that community, that they are my brothers and sisters, and that together we will fight for the rights we all deserve.

Punk Rock Changed My Life

As someone who grew up as one of Jehovah's Witnesses, I grew up in a very isolated and controlled environment when it came to music. Many songs, artists, and even entire genres were banned from the house without reason. My musical education did not come until long into my early twenties.

As a teen, I became a member of the Columbia House/"12 for a penny" record clubs. If I was expecting a shipment, let's just say hopefully I would make it home before the package did. If the artist was anything other than Michael Bolton or Kenny G, it was immediately considered contraband. Strange sounding band names (Toad the Wet Sprocket, Depeche Mode), immediately confiscated, lyrics reviewed for content, and shredded if there was so much as one word my mother disapproved of. Gay artist? (Elton John, Pet Shop Boys, Erasure, George Michael), immediately destroyed. My mom believed that their "gay influence" could turn me gay, which I thought was funny. Especially in the case of Elton John. Bernie Taupin, a straight man, wrote all of his lyrics. Elton only wrote the music. So, with that logic, the right set of chords should have me sucking dicks I guess. Hip Hop, Rap, most R&B, most Rock (especially Hard Rock), and Punk...without question Punk, were banned like pornography from my house growing up.....not because the content....but because "they sounded" like they were no good for me.

During my senior year of high school, a kid in one of my business classes regularly wore a Bad Religion t-shirt. It was just the one with their standard, slash across the Christian cross logo. I had no idea who Bad Religion was. I thought he was an atheist. It wasn't until the next summer that I got my first taste of that band.

By the summer of 1994, the world had fallen in love with Green Day. And, although they, along with MTV, was banned from the house, I had heard them enough on radio to get an idea of what the 1994 version of "punk" was. It was fast. It was catchy. But it didn't have anything meaningful behind it. It was about smoking pot and masturbation. Then, the same summer, Bad Religion released '21st Century Digital Boy'. It was the most intelligent song I had heard in my life up until that point. And with my very short exposure with the punk genre, I realized, this was true punk. Green Day was "pop-punk".


Bad religion....21st century digital boy

endika|MySpace Videos

This song opened my sheltered eyes. 1996 comes along. By this time, I am no longer living with the book burners, and I happen across another Bad Religion song: 'Come Join Us'. The band claims it's about anti-conformity, but even around Witness circles, it's believed to be an anti-Jehovah's Witness song. Rumor is that the lead singer was raised as a JW as a child and wrote the song based upon his experiences. I have heard him in interviews discussing the song. He will not say it outright, but he definitely does not paint the Witnesses in a very good light based upon his experiences. The song moves pretty fast, and it is quite witty, so I am also posting lyrics:

so you say you gotta know why the world goes 'round
and you can't find the truth in the things you've found
and you're scared shitless 'cause evil abounds
come join us

well I heard you were looking for a place to fit in
full of adherent people with the same objective
a family to cling to and call brethren
come and join us

all we want to do is change your mind
all you need to do is close your eyes

come join us
come join us
come join us

don't you see all the trouble that most people are in
and that they just want you for their own advantage
but I swear to you we're different from all of them
come join us
I can tell you are lookin' for a way to live
where truth is determined by consensus
full of codified arbitrary directives
come join us

all we want to have is your small mind
turn it into one of our kind
you can go through life adrift and alone
desperate, desolate, on your own
but we're lookin' for a few more stalwart clones

come join us
come join us
come join us

we've got spite and dedication as a vehement brew
the world hates us, well we hate them too
but you're exempted of course if you
come join us

independent, self-contented, revolutionary
intellectual, brave, strong and scholarly
if you're not one of them, you're us already so

come join us
come join us
come join us
come join us
come join us



Again, when I first heard it, it amazed me the vocabulary that came through in the song. Sadly, I had to look up some of the words, with my public school education. I later found out that, Greg Graffin, Bad Religion's lead singer, has a masters in geology and a Ph.D. in zoology from Cornell University. When he isn't recording or touring with the band, he is lecturing and teaching life sciences and paleontology at UCLA. We're not talking about you're average musicians.

Until Bad Religion, I had no idea who the Ramones were, or the Sex Pistols, or Elvis Costello, Social Distortion or Iggy Pop. I didn't know any of the newer bands like NOFX, Pennywise, Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys. Hell, all my dad listened to was country, and I wasn't as familiar with Johnny Cash like I am now.

I'm not saying I'm a punk now by any means. I'm a poser most days. I still listen to the 'Garden State' Soundtrack and wear my Beatles t-shirt. But punk music opened my eyes. It got me thinking. If it wasn't for those right songs at the right time in my life, I probably wouldn't have gauged my ears, or have gotten my lip pierced. I wouldn't have had the courage to say "Fuck it", and give myself a cobalt blue mohawk at the age of 32. Punk gave me the courage to piss people off, to live life on my terms, to be the person I wanted to be. So I may not be 100% punk, but I have just enough in me to get by.

Where The Wild Things Are

Over the last three to four months, my wife and I have developed a morning and nighttime ritual. It never changes. I wake our daughter up in the morning, say our "good mornings", talk about our dreams, change her, and get her dressed for the day. This gives my wife and extra 15-20 minutes of sleep each day.

At night, I make the baby her bottle, mom changes her into her pajamas, and reads her her bedtime stories before putting her to bed. A couple of nights ago, we were able to switch roles.

I have been seeing the trailer for the 'Where The Wild Things Are' motion picture for the last two weeks, and it looks amazing. I REALLY WANT TO SEE THIS MOVIE. Funny thing is, I have never read the book. I was never allowed to. Don't ask me why. I don't know. Maybe it was the "monsters". I honestly don't know.

Jehovah's Witness parents are like paranoid schizophrenic Amish. They will deny the simplest things to their children for the most ridiculous reasons. The following are a small list of things that were banned from my house:

Smurfs - magic (and the cat's name was also the name of a demon)
Rainbow Brite - magic
G.I. Joe - Armed Forces
Water Guns - looked like guns
'Star Wars' - mom thought "the Force" was a religion
He Man - no fucking clue, magic I think
'Wizard of Oz', 'Sleeping Beauty', 'Snow White', 'Sword and the Stone' - all because of magic

Hell, I had a close friend that wasn't allowed to watch 'Beauty and the Beast' because her mother felt it promoted bestiality.

By the time I became an adult, I still wanted to read 'Where The Wild Things Are', but I felt weird ravaging through the children's section at the local library in order to read it. When I started seeing the previews for the movie, I became determined. Both myself, and my daughter, would get to know this book. So, I went to the library and picked up a copy.

When I read it to my daughter at bedtime, she loved it. So did I. I really do not know what my mom was so afraid of. It just proved that all of her decisions that she made were done blindly.

It was such a pleasant book. A little boy is in his wolf suit and is causing trouble at home. He's sent to his room without dinner. He travels to an imaginary place where he becomes "King of the Wild Things". He becomes homesick after smelling dinner and travels back to his room. HOW ON EARTH IS THAT HARMFUL ON AN IMPRESSIONABLE YOUTH? My daughter loved it. She kept pointing to all the pictures. After reading the book, she climbed on top of me and fell asleep on my shoulder. I love being an open minded dad.

How 9/11 Changed Me

Growing up as a Jehovah's Witness, I was always told that it was wrong to salute the flag. I wasn't allowed to say the Pledge of Allegiance. I had to remain seated for the National Anthem. It's not that I had been intentionally disrespecting or desecrating the flag as a child. My parents never instilled in me the reasons why the symbols of our country, and the flag in particular, should be respected.

You can imagine the uncomfortable situations I had found myself in growing up. In the classroom everyday for years. At school assemblies. At sporting events. Countless dirty looks. People making comments under their breath. Even the occasional thwack to the back of the head with the words, "What's wrong with you? You a Commie or somethin? Stand up boy".

In my younger days, I saw it as an opportunity to "witness". To share my beliefs with others. I would tell them that I wasn't standing because my religion wouldn't permit me to. Usually, that would be as far as I got. The offended spectator would turn a more enraged shade of red and that would be my que to face forward for the rest of the event and not make eye contact with anyone for the next 3 hours.

As I got older, I got wiser. I realized that by being in my seats during the National Anthem, I was only asking for trouble. So, I would generally take that time of the pre-game to go to the bathroom or grab a drink or a souvenir. Most times, I would just intentionally show up late to a game - skip the first 2 minutes of the period or the top half of the first inning altogether.

So how does this tie in to 9/11? I'll get to that in a second. But first: February 13, 1983. The Forum, Irvine, California. It was the NBA All Star Game. For some reason my dad was watching it on TV. I never remember him being much of a basketball fan. I've never been much of one either. But something special happened that night. The time came for the National Anthem. This is what we saw:



It gave me chills. As a 7 year old, I didn't know why. I had a feeling then that I couldn't put into words, that I wouldn't feel again until 18 years later. I left the church in 1996, but, out of habit I guess, continued my "tradition" of not standing for the National Anthem.

Then came September 11th, 2001. It's a day that, 8 years later, I still think about on a daily basis. We all tend to re-live the shots of the people running in the streets, the towers falling, and the planes hitting the towers. Today though, I had a different memory for the first time. I remembered the firefighters going into Ground Zero to tie an American Flag onto a beam of the World Trade Center. This was still while the area was unsafe. There was still a possibility of the surrounding buildings collapsing. It was their way of saying "We're still here. We're still standing".

When I saw that flag amongst the rubble, that feeling I first felt as a 7 year old had returned. It was pride. The flag reminded me of the anthem's lyrics itself: "Gave proof through the night, That our flag was still there, O say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave, O'er the land of the free, And the home of the brave". It waved over many a brave volunteer in the days and weeks following the attacks.

September 10, 2001, was the last day I refused to sit for the National Anthem. Since the events of 9/11, not only do I show my respect to my nation and its flag, but I sing along with the Star Spangled Banner, and get choked up at the end. Every time.