coming soon, the Dr. Terry Moody saga.....including the story on Bea's "leaked" MMPI results...

CoD

At the very root of my addictions (symptoms), is child abuse.

During my stay at Alina Lodge, I lived 92 classroom hours of Co-Dependency - we called it CoD, for short.  

We were issued, for this "class", 'Facing Codependence', by Pia Melody and the 'Codependent No More' workbook, by Melody Beattie.

CoD was of intense focus during my 18 months at the Lodge. I was shocked, initially, when I began to get into CoD; these two books, the weekly lectures, and the laborious homework we were assigned. It took me awhile to get my head around it because, quite simply, the books and classroom study were all about my life, my childhood, and my family of origin.

CoD was then "taught" by the Executive Director of Alina Lodge at the time, Mark Schottinger, a well known, long-term pioneer of the North American 12-step Recovery community, hand picked by the founder of Alina Lodge, Geraldine Delaney, to be her successor, just prior to her death in 1998.

We were given assignments, long and involved written assignments, and then we were called upon, randomly, to "present" these assignments to the entire Alina "community", always 100 people or more, requiring we spend a minimum of 55 minutes from the microphone equipped podium in "Memory", the lecture hall at Alina Lodge. 

Co-Dependence is the always, inevitable result of child abuse.

There are 5 different categories of child abuse, each of which is explored and then dissected in both of the text's cited above: Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Spiritual Abuse and Intellectual Abuse. 

I was a victim of each of these forms of Child Abuse, some from my father, some from my mother and some from both. 

I never had a chance, ever, nor did my siblings. 

The proof is in the pudding. 

So, for my father, my siblings, their attorneys and/or various other, what now looks to be, uneducated, uninformed, or just generally, ignorant, so-called advisors or experts, to say or imply that child abuse has no place in my story of addiction, is blatantly, ridiculously, false. 

This, is Truth.

If any of these people had conducted proper due diligence in this regard; taken the time to find out, to learn exactly, where I've been, what I've learned, and how this has become a part of who I am, they would have never, ever gone down the various legal and other roads they've chosen to go down, with me in tow, over the last 5 years.

Precious Time

3 years ago I was in Del Mar, California with boone, inc., where his most recent wife lived in the $35mm home she bought with proceeds from her sale of a portion of the Clean Energy Fuels (CLNE - Nasdaq) common stock boone was required to give her, prior to their marriage.

This, a union of two "people", both of whom I would categorize as insanely delusional, entitled and  omnipotent, along with being grossly immature.  A marriage that ended up looking like precisely what it was; a structured, contract based relationship; one where she was required to spend a certain amount of time with him, per week, attending x-number of social functions, etc.  

She had this new place, 3 hours from Dallas, where she was picked up and delivered, via private jet, several times per week.  She wanted nothing to do with Dallas. 

There's no way this woman would ever get on a commercial jet, voluntarily. I've seen her get off an elevator because of who'd just got on. 

During the trip to Del Mar, I saw/heard her walk into the Pamplemousse Grille one evening, loudly making the pronouncement that, "I've never seen so many ugly people in one room before."

What was that ?

I was shocked, did I hear her correctly ? Was it a joke I was not in on ?

NO

I'd just lived 709 days in hard core drug rehab, with people who'd become my best friends, incredibly wonderful people from all walks of life; people whom I loved for who they were, had been and were to be. We were all about truth, nothing hidden from each other, ever, truth always, because it was the only, the beautiful, the real.

And now, I'm forced to see and hear this. 

Why ?

Pitiful, hollow, a waste of time, in this, our lives of precious time.

I kept my eyes open.

I'm to stay at the home of wifey's twin sister - I'm barely a living creature in social status & of course, net worth($), barely above a rat or a possum, so there's no hotel room for me. 

I'm there to drive Mr Big around; so he never, ever misses a meal, receiving, swallowing and then processing his constant/random abuse, including having to listening to his non-stop:

• boring natural gas bullshit, ad nauseam
• same worn out resentments about the previous 4 wives who victimized him
• current resentments/complaints about the new wife who's fucking with him
• complaints/resentments regarding his "friends"; most of whom are dead & were not his friends, and how they fucked him
• resentments/complaints about my siblings, their spouses and their children & how they've screwed him/are currently fucking with him

blah, blah, blah - you are so boring so shut up, quit whining, you're a friggin sissygirl put on a dress!

A few days later, during a CLNE/Nat Gas Act schmoozing session with Indiana Congressman Dan Burton, who's sitting directly to my right, the twin sister dumps her entire LARGE glass of red wine all over me and Dan - he's so drunk he never knows, even when I'm soaking the wine off the left arm of his jacket.

I'm wet, I leave.

Sister gets drunker, coming home where I'm working at a computer desk, and hugs my head with her huge fake titties enveloping my little bean head, knocking my glasses to the floor, telling me she loves me. I have no idea what she was up to, probably nothing, but you know me, I thought it was funny, especially when I re-enacted it, showing how my glasses were knocked askew. 

So, it's a funny story, that's it.

When I get home, I tell my wife - she laughs.

She tells my sister-in-law, who laughs.

Sister-in-law tells my sister :

TELEPHONE, TELEGRAPH, TELLPAM !

PAMAGRAPH tells boone's wife, who's scared shitless the world will actually care when this scandal gets out, then,

Booneygirl summons me to his office & tells me that this incident has "caused me all kinds of problems"

I've heard this before: "caused me all kinds of problems", many, many times over the decades, never knowing what was behind it, scared to ask.

I'm curious now, so I ask him, "what kind of problems has it caused you?"

He scoffs; he cannot tell me, but I now know, intuitively.

It's that this, my father's 5th marriage, is crumbling; they fight like children and then his wife, this plasticized $35+mm prostitute throws this story in his face as if it's my fault & his responsibility, every-time they spar, which, if this marriage is anything like the previous 4.....

Of course, this sissy buys it and wears it like any expert victim would, because now, he's got another resentment, and it's on me, the bad little boone & his favorite target.

It gets worse after this, as if he now has carte blanche to call me on the carpet, whenever he finds himself in his head going nuts, desperately needing a distraction, which looks like about 24/7 from where I'm standing

So, it becomes very clear to me that this nut-job thinks I'm the same guy he's abused, unabatedly, for the last 84.90 years.

I'm no longer that guy, hello !

Of course, a few days later, I get the email from (yawn) another paid enabling shill, Sally Geymuller, instructing me to show up for breakfast at, yes again, the friggin Park Cities Hilton.

I go to this ridiculous breakfast (I know, I'm an idiot) where he's got his barely paid, ass kissing, always on retainer divorce attorney, John V McShane, who's also a member of my AA home group, with him. 

So, I do get it, he's got Alcoholics Anonymous behind him, in his tiny little mind, and, he's got a list of complaints:

• the drunk sister event, which he has now determined is a lie, and just cannot quit obsessing over
• I told Pamagraph that I liked my job because it was close to the driving range & I could go hit a bucket of balls instead of going to lunch - he says a "man" does not tell people these things
• I took a second job, on the side - someone told him about this and this is not acceptable.
• I should not be telling people I'm broke & need 2 jobs, which I tell people, because it's the truth
• blah, blah, blah, some other bullshit I cannot remember because only a sissy like this clown could come up with such lame crap

I say nothing because it is nothing. Attorney says, "Mike, do you have a response?" he's mediating the meeting !

I say, "no response to the list of ridiculous complaints, but I've got a comment on why I think we're really here:

• your 5th marriage is in trouble, as usual 
• you're 84 years old & scared of dying because you're defined by your fear
• you've lost all your money and your investors money, again, gambling in the markets, again

and, from where I'm sitting, your plate looks pretty full, so mind your own business, you've got plenty to do, if you've got the balls to do it, because you're running out of time."

He can't talk he's so incensed. His face is bizarrely scrunched up; he's totally out of control, mumbling "I never expected this meeting to turn out like this", but it's difficult to make out what he's saying because he's so enraged.

I'm amazed. I recognize this immediately - no higher power !

No peace, no joy; just blame, resentments, criticism, judgement.

I say, "look at you, no wonder you don't sleep, you're out of control, you are a mess"

Attorney McShane grovels, "Mike, we're not here to talk about Boone's sleeping problem."

And this fuckwad attorney, with 30 years in AA, has been enabling, cosigning & otherwise blessing my father for 25 years, knowing full well how sick he is, so he can marry, divorce, marry, divorce, etc., collecting millions in fees each time they bring another mess to an expensive, in more ways than one, end. 

Whatever, That's it. Meeting over. I get up and leave, I'm done. What a pussy. What a joke. What a lie.

Then it hits me. This is what this guy was like, all my life.

He's come nowhere in 8 decades.

No Where.

Nothing.

Nada.

He's a 12 year old bully, on his playground, just like my LPC sister has been saying for the last 30 years.

When I was a kid, I'd roll my eyes at his crap; he'd get so pissed, dragging me to his closet, whipping me with his favorite belt.

After he'd left the house, I'd go back in his closet and piss in the corner.

Fucker.

no tellin what else we'll find on this dishonest dirtbag, stay tuned...

Leland de la Garza is a deadbeat husband - No wonder T boner hired him, they're both lying scumbags! 

what's goin on with the busted lip Lelo ? 
you and Cheeseburger McShane git in a tussle over the fries ?

                                                                     
AFFIRMED; Opinion Filed March 3, 2006.
In The
Court of Appeals
Fifth District of Texas at Dallas
............................
No. 05-04-01453-CV
............................
B. ALICIA DE LA GARZA, Appellant
V.
LELAND DE LA GARZA, Appellee
.............................................................
On Appeal from the 255th Judicial District Court
Dallas County, Texas
Trial Court Cause No. 03-11823
.............................................................
OPINION
Before Justices O'Neill, FitzGerald, and Lang
Opinion By Justice O'Neill
        B. Alicia de la Garza filed suit to enforce alimony payments under an Agreement Incident to Divorce and cash payments awarded to her in the divorce decree. She appeals from a summary judgment granted in favor of Leland de la Garza. In two points of error, appellant contends generally that the trial court erred in granting appellee's motions for summary judgment. We overrule appellant's points of error and affirm the trial court's judgment.
                    

CB Radios and those pesky private i's

Back in the day, long before cel phones, we had CB Radios - Citizen's Band radios - you've seen them, the truckers still use them today.

While in High School we were using CB radios to communicate from house to house, before we had our drivers licenses and cars. I carried a portable CB radio with me wherever I went for awhile and then when I bought my 1st a car, I mounted my CB radio, with mic, under my dash, below the AM radio.

We used channel 10, mostly.

I was 19 and going to school in Austin, at the University of Texas. I'd come back to Amarillo one weekend to party with my old friends. I was staying two nights at the apartment where my father lived with his new wife, Bea, my first stepmother. After saying hello to father and step-mother I went out on the town, driving 1st to pick up an old girlfriend.

Soon after picking Karen up I noticed someone following me. I grabbed the mic of my CB radio, rolled the knob to channel 10 and put in a call for my friend Phil Parge, whom I'd seen out earlier, on my way to get Karen. 

Phil responded, "what's up?" 

"Looks like someone is tailing me, let's box him in."

We picked out a place; a few minutes later I led my tail down an ally with Phil coming in behind him.

I stopped. Phil and I both got out, Phil going to the passenger side, me going to the driver side, both of us with tire tools - I tapped on the window, down it came.

The first thing I noticed was that I just might need the tire tool - this guy was old, beat up and pissed off; he reeked of whiskey. He mumbled something about me speeding and running a stop sign. "Where's your badge?" I asked. "I don't need a badge, your father hired me", he snarled.

I got his name, we left, case closed.

That was 41 years ago.

There've been many more "tails" over the years, all with the same employer, Boone Pickens.

Why does he follow me ?

When I moved back to Dallas, after Alina Lodge, in 2008, I took a job with a local Private Investigator. I served people with papers. I worked stake-outs, watching for people, looking for this and that, and I followed people too. Following cars is an art. The goal is to follow the car without getting made. You do not get made.

If you get made you don't get paid.

I heard through an AA friend, several days ago, that John McShane was "bragging" that he'd hired a PI to follow me. No surprise. Boone's scared he's gonna lose this lawsuit, so McShane has me followed. Manipulate with an illusion; put a band-aid on the fear, get paid. It comes with the territory; out-of-control "mess" paying a devilish slick attorney, who knows exactly who his client is.

Yo Cheeseburger John McShame, if the bill for the 3pm Thursday, Friday & Saturday tail jobs is for more than 7 minutes a copy, you've been made, again...