I was born in 1946. Before therapy. Before political correctness. What happened to me began in 1958. Last physical sexual contact with my mother was in 1974. There was'nt anything like we have today to help me. None of this poetry,no story telling,no movies,books,no cameraderie with fellow victims,no internet. Nothing. There was only life or death. Find ways to live with it without communicating the situation to anyone else. I was fucking twelve years old. Sitting on my bed asking myself "What just happened? What just happened? What just happened?" for minutes at a time. I had to put on this act convincing the adults that everything was absolutely perfectly normal. Well I just turned 56 years old April first and I'm so tired of playing the game. I just donated half a million dollars to the Tustin Boys and Girls Club of America and there is'nt a single newspaper in Orange County,Calif that'll publish the story of what happened to me because it might be embarrassing for the populace. Could lower local property values. $500,000 and only silence. Tinfoil is beyond mere rage. I won't be fucked with anymore. This Thing ends now. Fuck their Hollywoodish bullshit. I'm from a different time. Call it "when men were men". That'll suffice. Tinfoil don't play that shit. I'm history and so's my half mil. Fuck'em. All I ever cared about was kids not having to go thru what I did.