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toqer 1 point ago +1 / -0

Your third paragraph really hits home for me. I remember my dad taking me to work parties where they had keggers. The parties would always have drinking contests to see who could drink the most, who could drink the fastest. He would always brag how he could beat everyone else at work (well duh, meth kind of keeps you sober) He used to buy lucky lager, and at 8 let me drink it at home.

It was the 70's, DUI's weren't a thing really. If you did get pulled over a cop would likely tell you, "OK just be careful" and go on their way.

Good on you for spending time with some of these kids. I've had to limit how much time I can spend with the kids of some of my famly members because I know the parents will just take advantage and disrupt the harmony in my own home.

I know well-off people from wealthy families plagued by addiction/divorce/abuse.

This was my family in a nutshell. The first 2 generations were good at staying married, not a single divorce, but extremely abusive towards thier kids. The third that grew up in the 50's and 60's were an absolute train wreck. With my father cooking meth, a large majority of them were taking it. A large percentage of them had divorces.

Wealthy families tend to care more about the perception of the family as a whole, than to confront a problem. Besides wealth we're also into politics. So all of my abuse was swept under the rug to spare the family name of that shame. To this day, me, not my father is to blame for shedding light on the abuse in their minds. My abuse is also a gateway that shines light on their own drug addled pasts.

As far as my life now, I don't get a dime of trust money. It's sad watching how everyone in the family can so willingly go along with the storyline that I am the bad one, just so they can get a check for $1100 @ month. My wife and I have built a good, autonomous life for ourselves.

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toqer 6 points ago +6 / -0

Part II, making a life for myself.

I used some dos based program to fax it out everywhere. Within days I got calls. I ended up working for some chinese motherboard distributor. Just me, Daniel Chow, and Bob Chen.

Daily these twats would tell me, "OHH YOU SUCH A STUPID AMERICAN BOY! HOW CAN YOU BE SOOOOO STUPID? CHINA IS POWERFUL!! CHINA HAS ALL THE GOLD IN THE WORLD!! CHINA HAS 5 BILLION PEOPLE! IF THEY INVADE YOU ESS AYE THEY WOULD LOSE" They both bragged how they were conscripted into the CCCP army. My first sale should have earned me a $20,000 comission, but they stole it.

Bob was short, fat, and kind of spoke in a sneaky voice. He'd always walk behind me and flick my ear. I wanted to kill him. Daniel was tall, skinny, always wearing a suit.

After 6 months of it, one day Daniel was deriding me. "OH YOU STUPID AMERICAN BOY!" I had enough. My blood boiled, my face turned red, my skin swelled, I stood up, never realzing I had 6 inches on him, and a good foot on Bob. I got right up in his face, my nose touching his.

"CALL ME STUPID AGAIN YOU CHINK MOTHER FUCKER AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!"

Both men turned white as ghosts. Both men started bowing and apologizing profusely. I got a free week paid off. I used that time to find a new job, working support for an ISP.

My family was still on the prowl to get my grandmother to get rid of me. They became really emboldened. One Easter my aunt (by marriage) started telling me in front of everyone, "You should join the peace corps, or enlist! Your grandmother is getting older, you can't live with her forever! You need to stand up and be a man!"

I went to my bedroom, my wife (then girlfriend) followed me. I cried for an hour. I felt like no matter how far I had come, they would always have me branded like this, a troubled kid, not even worthy of having a roof over his head while he figured things out.

For a while during this period, the really dark thoughts came. My grandmother had an arsenal of guns in the basement, leftover from when my grandfather was still alive. I started thinking up a plan, that I would kill all of them. I would do it at the next family gathering. I took a few guns out, hid them in my room and loaded them up about a month before Thanksgiving. They didn't show up for Thanksgivng, and my mother in law took my wife and I out of town for the holiday. My grandmother went off with her sister. This was one of those grace of god moments, because between Easter and Thanksgiving, my uncles would come over almost daily to berate my grandmother into kicking me out. I wanted them dead.

III. Reconciling with my Demons

Right before Christmas, I started thinking about my life. I started to think of how awesome my grandma was, that no matter how bad I was, she was there for me. I started thinking about my 8th grade teacher, showing me I could write. How that helped me in my current role, as a IT admin (which does require a lot of clear writing, and reading comprehension) I started thinking about my wife, who loved me unconditionally, and would drop her panties for me whever I asked. I started thinking about my mother in law, who was proud of the young man I was becoming, even taking me on vacation to Harrah's in Tahoe. She was showing me what life could be like, if I worked at it.

I realized... I was worth something to all of these people, and even if I couldn't see it, it would kill them if committed something as heinous as killing my aunts and uncles in cold blood. People at my new job loved me, counted on me. I mattered to them. I was leaving the losers that dragged me down, the ones I hung onto for any sense of having friends in favor for my wife. We'd go out to eat, we'd travel, we'd go places and see things neither of us had ever seen before.

We got married, June 8th 1997, after 4 years of dating. 2006, 6 years after buying our house we had our first child, my daughter. I've lived in this one spot for 22 years, well past the tumultuous time between my birth and being 20, longer than any place I had ever lived. I turn 49 this year. We had my son 4 years later, and I love my whole family. I don't raise a hand to them. Sometimes the rage comes out once every few years, but it's mostly just displays and yelling, after which I feel really stupid, like I'm an ape doing an agression display. Taking care of all of them is my duty. Both my kids have enjoyed K-8 Catholic school. Both my kids have a father and mother to go home to and hug at night. Both my kids had the love, nurturing, and stability I always wanted as a kid, and I have it too now.

** IV Understanding the mind of a shooter **

Going back to what Trump said about broken homes... This is the absolute truth...

I've never gone to therepy for any of this. I had to work through it myself. I had a keen distrust of psychiatry after what I went through. So my terms here may or may not be someone one would read in a Psycchiatric book.

When people go through trauma, they get it into their heads the short solution out of that trauma is to inflict it on someone else. Someone just as helpless. In my case, it was a few cats, possoms, countless birds and squirrels. My trauma hampered me, because the only way I knew how to communicate my thoughts and feelings was what I saw through my parents. You scream, you fight, you smash things. You hurt small animals, and even people (but luckily, I came to my sense before it got to that stage)

Somehow you think by doing this ritual, it will free you from the constant thoughts. The demons whispering in your mind. You think you'll be transferring all of that hurt and anguish into those you hurt.

Through my life, I'd learn both my parents were abused growing up. My grandfather made a sport out of beating his sons while my grandmother turned a blind eye, and my mothers mom had my mother constantly comitted and in group homes, until she married, then anulled a sailor at 15. They never came to their sense, they never took ownership of those demons, and instead decided instead of looking inwards, they would blame it all on me, the first born that forced them together.

It took 4 caring women, over the course of a decade to get me off this dark path. My grandmother, my 8th grade teacher, my wife, and my mother in law. I love each and every one of them, but to be honest, I would have rather had stable parents, and not put my anger and hurt towards them. With the exception of my teacher, I had arguments with the other 3 saying things any lesser person would have been done with me, yet they stood with me and kept me on this path in life.

I don't think taking guns is the answer, nor are guns the reason these mass shootings happen. In fact, I know 100% why. These kids are hurt, they're abandoned, they didn't grow up in nurturing homes where they learned how to healthily deal with conflict. Finally, as said above, they reach a breaking point of ritualism, where they think by inflicting this harm on others, they will be freed.

My life could have very easily turned another way. I got lucky, blessed, and the only way I think other kids in my situation or worse can be helped is through school. Teachers need to stop turning a blind eye to the bullied kids. It's almost like you have a scent on you when you come from a home like this, that makes certain people want to pick on you. Maybe the bullies were bullied themselves, and they're ritualistically trying to transfer the hurt to you. Whatever the case... If a teacher sees a kid like this, they need to reach out, figure out what they're good at, and help them realize that thing they're good at is of value to this world.

Cops cannot do that. Forced mental health may prematurely cause someone who's not emotionally mature enough to examine their trauma to deal with it too early. Getting rid of guns won't fix that either.

One last bit of a happy note here. Eventually I got my revenge against my dad, aunts, and uncles.

About 7 years ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with Dementia. My dad and uncles drained her bank accounts (they were on them) and sent out a letter that they were going to sell her house and put her in a home. My grandmother has a very sizable estate, one which could easily pay for in home care.

I went to court for about 5 years, fighting them tooth and nail and won. The money is locked away, to only be used for my grandma's care. She has round the clock caregivers. While she's at a stage now where she's non-vocal, doesn't remember who my wife, my kids, my dad or uncles are, she always remembers me. Her face lights up with a huge smile when I come over to visit, and I just sit and tell her how much I love her, even if she can't say anything more than "Yes!" I re-tell all the quirky stories she told me as a kid, and stories from our own time together.

**V A message to any other potential shooters **

I'm not sure how many are here. There's kind of a misconception that conservatives are behind these shootings. In truth, conservatives stay married. Liberals (like my druggie, swinging parents) get divorced. Just in case there is a few here, remember, this is only a single stage in your life. I know it hurts.. I know hearing your family trash you hurts, your parents abandoning you hurts.. but you will find love. You will find someone to go through life with that will make it all worthwhile to not commit what you're thinking about. I know, and if you ever need someone to talk to that's been there, DM me. I'm more than happy to chat. Even a complete stranger thinks you have value, and hopefully that's enough to get you to at least reach out and talk.

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toqer 7 points ago +7 / -0

/u/odiChamp sorry for hijacking your comment here... but I have some personal demons to share.. It's chilling how right I was about this... Chilling how much I understood the shooter.

Understanding the mind of a potential mass shooter -- By toqer.

Growing up I was much like this guy. Parents were druggies. They split up when I was 4 and a half. While they were together I watched my parents constantly fight, scream. I watched my dad beat my mom. When they would start, I would grab my sisters hand, run into our bedroom and hide under the bed. When my mom left, she took me with her. No more than 6 months later, she felt like I was in the way of her new life and dumped me back on my father.

My father resented me as well. He cooked meth. I never knew when he'd explode. Beatings eventually became run of the mill, I knew what to expect. I'd be lifted by my 5 year old hair, face smashed into the wall, kicked, and beaten with a holster belt. You know, the kind cops wear to hold all their gear on? Dad loved guns, dad loved hurting. For the next 5 years I begged my mom to take me back in, and she wouldn't. She would get a new man, get pregnant by him, and try what she could to distance me from my brother and sister.

For the next 5 years I saw my old man do some pretty unspeakable things. I found a kitten when I was 7. He told me to clean up the cat shit. One day he found a dried turd I had missed, told me eat the cat shit or get a beating. After that I tried my best to pick up every piece, but again he found another one.

He choked the cat out in front of me, then stomped on its skull. I remember the eyes bulging out, the blood from its nose. He told me to pick it up and bury it out in the orchard. He told me it was my fault the cat was dead.

This was ritualized abuse, something I wouldn't understand until I came to terms with it when I got older. Like molesters that were molested as kids, people that went through trauma will re-enact that trauma hoping to rid themselves of it. Like a magic bullet, but it doesn't work. It just reinforces it.

The beatings, the abuse continued until I was 10, and I showed my bruises and welts to my classmates in the 4th grade. Teachers were told, I was in the principals office, police were called, photos were taken. My mom was called.

A few years later, my mom figured out a way to get rid of me. Simply make shit up. A few times the cops came, took me to Juvi when she accused me of beating up my sister, something that never happened. Then one day she told them I tried to commit suicide, and I got placed in a psych ward at 12. Another patient sodomized me at knifepoint. 6 months, and the insurance finally ran out and I was suddenly "Cured" My mom was forced to take me back. During this time my grandmother started making my father go to court to get my freedom, paying the legal fees.

I was barely out 2 months, and my mother made up stuff to the police again. This time though she refused to pick me up, so they sent me to the childrens shelter. I was there for 6 months. During this time my grandmother doubled up on lawyers, and SHE petitioned to foster me. She had enough of my parents blaming me, or each other for this situation.

13 years of seeing violence, drug use, not being loved, and being abandoned whenever the oppertunity had it's effect on me. Through it all I tried to pretend I was normal. I was so ashamed of myself inside. Because of being sodomized, I constantly lived in fear if anyone found out, I'd be labeled "Gay". I didn't want that, I wanted normal. I wanted a wife, kids, a house. So I bottled it inside for another 4 years before I told anyone. I was abusive and angry at my grandmother whenever she tried to get me to listen. I'd go in the backyard and take a baseball bat to chairs, whatever I could find. Glass, pottery, you name it. I moved onto to small animals, birds, frogs, lizards. One day my cousin dropped his aggresive dog off at my grandma's. The dog was a known cat killer. I went outside with my new kitten, somehow I thought if the dog would just look at her, he might stop being a killer. He broke his rope and lunged at me, I threw the kitten at him. He grabbed her, and shook her. I was beating him with a stick until he let her go. She ran up a tree. We got her down, and dropped her off at the vet on the way to my therepist appointment, but on the way back we stopped back by, she didn't make it. I was crushed. Another time I was at a park, and saw a couple of white bunnies. I chased them through the poison oak, crushing their heads with rocks.

But this was not all darkness... This is actually where my first glimpse of self worth came into play. My 8th grade teacher knew I was brilliant. She loved my writing. She knew I had it bad. She took her own time to take me to writing workshops at a local college on weekends. She would call my grandmother every night to give her my homework assignments. She made me realize... I can write.. I can communicate through this medium. While my grades were terrible at the beginning of the year, by years end I had turned it around. I sort of knew my grandmother loved me a lot too.

Yet this is the first glimpse of what true abandonment by a family is that I had. My uncles would come over and talk to my grandmother about me. Insist I was a bad apple, not worth the stress I was causing her. She wanted to keep me, but they convinced her I should go back with my father. When the year was up, I went back with him.

Without anyone watching over me, or checking on my studies my thoughts were still too poisoned by my trauma to do anything in high school. My first semested grades were a B, a D, and 4 F's. My father shipped me off to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere that let you basically buy grades.

Being the smallest, with no friends immediately I was bullied. There was onlyy 22 kids in this school, in the middle of the Arizona desert so it was no place to hide. There was this one kid from a rich family, owned a camero his dad bought him. One day in class he just kept messing with me, shooting spitballs at me, walking behind me and flicking my ear. I told him I'd go fuck up his precious camero and he started swinging. I managed to get away, and climbed on the roof. I was up there for hours, with staff yelling at me to get down. It was a really fucked up place, nothing ever happened to the guy for his unprovoked attack on me. I had no friends, my father again had abanoned me. Some of the kids were into drugs, and one day after a paticularly bad one sided fight, they felt sorry for me and gave me some pot to smoke. This is where my own battle with drugs started.

After the school year ended my father picked me up, took me to the airport and back to our house. He was cooking and using again. He would never sleep, the TV was constantly on. He started swinging at me again, but I was 15 now. I wasn't as small as I was so I'd do my best to fight back. One day I told him if he hit me again, I'd call the cops and tell them what he was cooking. He told me his friends would kill me. I took one of his shotguns, loaded it up, and kept it under my bed. At that point, I didn't care. A few months later in October he'd realize it was missing, and found it. We got into a huge fight, and I just ran. I lived under a bridge for a few weeks, and begged my mother to take me back in. I was too ashamed for how I treated my grandmother to go back to her.

By Febuary, my mother was tired of having me around. One night her and my stepdad told me I couldn't live with them anymore. I asked for a ride back to the bridge, they kept stalling for some reason. I walked out front, saw 2 cops roll up on the driveway, dropped my bags and ran like the wind. They caught me, I went back for a 72 hour psych eval, then back to the childrens shelter.

What struck me was the same kids I had seen just 3-4 years earlier were still there. I wasn't going to stick around and wait for the court to decide my fate, so I ran again back to the bridge house.

For the next 2 months I'd live under the bridge, sometimes friends would take me in. My grandmother in Reno flew me out there, and my aunt picked me up. My aunt was a welfare queen from Washington. I was at her house for 2 weeks before welfare told her she couldn't collect with me living there. I was so angry that night, I went out walking around. I came across 2 opossoms running across a ravine side field next to a bridge. I took a stick and bashed in their skulls. The next morning the welfare department took me to the greyhound station with a ticket back home and $40. It was barely enough to cover food for the next 3 day ride. On one long layover, I was out of money, starving, and scraped money out of a fountain to buy some food.

When I made it back to my bridge house, someone had taken all my things and burned them. All of my clothes, all of my belongings. My shoes had holes in them. I finally swallowed what little pride I had left, and went to my grandmother asking if there was chores I could do to earn $20 to buy a pair of converse. After doing some odd sweeping around her house, and going to Montgomery Wards for the shoes, instead of taking me back to my bridge house she took me home.

I lived with her a few months more. Still angry, still fighting with her. I'd hear my uncles tell her what a bad bastard I was, and how she should get rid of me. She got me an apartment, next to the high school my friends went to. At 16.. Suddenly 4 of my friends were homeless, and living with me. Daily there was drugs, fighting, chaos. We destroyed that apartment. Eventually we were kicked out, and I had noplace else to go.

My grandma took me back in.

A few more years passed, I was 18. I still yearned for my parents to love me. My grandmother would constantly tell me to straighten up. I just couldn't do it. We'd fight constantly. I did manage to get my GED, but at 18 I had enough fighting with her. My father offered to take me in, but it was such a bad scene there again, same shit. So I left again when I was 19, my grandmother didn't want me living on the street, but at the same time couldn't take me in. She bought me a camper, we parked it on one of the family ranches, and I lived there for another year.

I started throwing wild parties there, 3 of them. A lot of my friends were into punk music, had their own bands. Imagine the last 7 acres of a former orchard, with 1000 people. That's when I met who would be my wife.

My grandma knew my wife and I wouldn't last if I was living in a trailer, so she let me move back in with her. I was still broken, but at least now she could see the progress in me. She knew I wanted to be normal. She knew my wife would be someone that would never leave me, never abandon me. My grandmother made sure our romance blossomed. I got a shit job at an amusement park. God, we had sex.... So much sex.. My mother in law didn't like me at the time, and took her car from her. Didn't stop her, she'd ride the bus to see me, and go to college. Eventually her mom gave her the car back. She loved me, she would sacrifice anything for me, because she saw value in me. She knew I was worth a damn, and it made me feel good about myself.

One day I was at my future mother in laws house, and her 386 was broken. One thing I haven't mentioned until now was I was really good with computers. I preferred writing on them to typerwriters. I also loved video games on them. Despite having limited time with them, I could program. A few fixes to her config.sys and autoexec.bat and she was up and running again. She told me, "You have potential to do this for a living" She showed me how to write a resume, and her IT person at work gave her a list of fax machines for every tech company HR department in town.

End Part I.

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toqer 10 points ago +10 / -0

There's one other cost not in there, endless wars.

The US uses about 1bn barrels of oil per year. 100 million of that goes to keeping our endless wars running. It wasn't just increasing supply and independance that made the US gas prices go down way under Trump, it was also a bit of supply coming back. Now Biden has emptied the SPL, if we get into any more conflicts we're pretty fucked.

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toqer 1 point ago +1 / -0

Did you go out shopping during the onset of covid? Or the weeks following? I did, was a complete shit show. Store shelves were picked clean.

I'm something of a foodie, I bake my own bread but all the yeast was GONE. I shop at restaurant supply stores, so I have plenty of ingredients on hand and 13 gallon trash cans full of flour and rice.

You're right we have plenty of food, plenty of money but the latter is part of the issue. People in this country feel compelled to make a buck off a disaster and horde up every day items to resell at exorbitant prices.

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toqer 1 point ago +1 / -0

The consistency and nutritional value of mayonnaise.

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toqer 3 points ago +3 / -0

Trying to now with Archive.org. No go, it doesn't get past the "Are you 18 or older" check. I did print to PDF though, if we need a copy.

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toqer 5 points ago +5 / -0

OP Here...

My wife is a bit left of center, but this threw her off. "MEN CANNOT PRODUCE MILK! THEY DON'T HAVE THE GLANDS FOR IT! THIS IS WRONG!"

She's actually wrong, men do have the hardware for it, but it's pretty much shut off at puberty.

I've peppered the thread with a bit of info, I personally hope some people track these child abusers down and turn them into the authorities.. MTF's are really setting women back, first stealing their look, then stealing their athletic accomplishments, and now this? There has to be a final line in the sand drawn here, this has to go BIG. Retweet it and post it everywhere you can.

Women that were on the fence about "Trans rights" and "MTF competing in female sports" will be absolutely horrified by this, and will finally understand what the true nature of MTF is... Replacing real women with dudes.

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toqer 4 points ago +4 / -0

I'm starting to think the plot of "A Handmaids Tale" and Gilead might be a good idea...

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toqer 7 points ago +7 / -0

Any weaponized autists around? I agree.. This is their profile.

https://www.reddit.com/user/AdmiralFisticuffs

This is the post.

https://www.reddit.com/r/MtF/comments/ur4gnb/oh_my_god_im_breastfeeding_my_daughter/

They need to be found and turned into CPS.

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toqer 4 points ago +4 / -0

Captured it before the post gets deleted. It's this person. https://www.reddit.com/user/AdmiralFisticuffs

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toqer 1 point ago +1 / -0

I started thinking of the flip-side of this argument. A lot of people are arguing about "Oh think of the women!" but what about the men?

Every year there are 1000's if not 10's of 1000's of men entrapped by women when they purposely get pregnant and deliver to full term. Quoting the song 'Golddigger' from Kanye:

  • Eighteen years, eighteen years
  • She got one of your kids, got you for eighteen years
  • I know somebody payin' child support for one of his kids
  • His baby mama car and crib is bigger than his

If you want to quickly watch a feminists head explode, use this on them.

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toqer 6 points ago +6 / -0

Redlining was the practice of banks refusing to give home loans in certain neighborhoods, usually black, always democrat run cities.

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toqer 36 points ago +36 / -0

I get some pretty extremist reactions from Democrats when I point out that fact. The Democrat party was all but a joke after the civil war for 100 years until they started begging across the aisle for money to fix issues they created.

What changed? When the Republicans told them, "we're not giving you a dime to fix redlining, Jim Crow and segregation" the Democrats flipped the script by telling minorities, "see? Republicans bad, they don't want to give you money for free shit"

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toqer 1 point ago +1 / -0

If you follow the tweet out, just some white basic bitch sjw claiming rich white men are oppressing her, while she takes $5m to make an appearance.

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toqer 2 points ago +2 / -0

There was that song she was caught singing who do I have to fuck to get power”. So technically this isn’t disinformation. I linked a tweet earlier today, check my post history.

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toqer 2 points ago +2 / -0

Check out my profile, been cranking these out like crazy. Found a cool app for the meme war called SparkleSend, I made this on my iPhone while taking a shit.

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toqer 2 points ago +2 / -0

It physically hurt my eyes to watch it. Surprise I was able to navigate pdw to ost it.

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toqer 2 points ago +2 / -0

She’s got an Adam’s apple and a chin like jay peno.

Nasty woman? More like ugly bitch

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