I have mixed feelings about the WCG’s policy on what music was good and what music was not. Because it is almost impossible for me to deny that the WCG had a very strong influence on my musical tastes growing up – and that I would not have my deep appreciation for classical music and talent on the piano if it was not for the WCG. But I also have to think about whether it was worth it in the long run.

When I was a very young child we had a record album (remember those?) called “Heidy Ho”. It was just a bunch of songs sung by kids – you know, a 70s version of “kidz bop” or whatever they call it. One of the songs was “let the sun shine in”.

My mother thought that meant “let a demon in” and destroyed the record. Snapped in right in half.

So, moving on, my father worked at the company that made the “super trouper” spotlights. He wound transformers (oddly enough, he had no idea what they did or how they work, he just wound them. I guess he did a good job because you didn’t hear about spotlights failing). So when ABBA came out with the “Super Trouper” album, his workplace bought everyone a copy.

We played it a bit, just long enough for me to decide I liked the music, and then they decided it was too sexy and destroyed it. It’s really sad, because ABBA truly was a work of art. You really don’t get much more raw emotion than in “The Winner Takes It All”.

So we were allowed to listen to, basically:

• Anything on the young ambassador albums
• Anything at church
• Ummm.. Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, etc. (YUCK!)
• Lawrence Welk
• Anything classical, but we had to find it ourselves
• Roger Whittaker
• Patti Page

Of course, this alienated me from the kids in school even more, something that was cemented in 6th grade when there was a “puttin’ on the kids” contest.

I did Cat Stevens “Morning has Broken”.

Oh yes, that really, really went over well. Kids were standing up and applauding, and they all came up to me afterwards, and the girls even flashed me. Well, I’m exaggerating a bit. As I remember, it was deathly silent in that auditorium.

And I didn’t even know why.

I liked Janet Jackson, and Michael Jackson, and Whitney Houston, and all of the famous artists of the time. But I never got to listen to them. No, it was all that fuddy-duddy music.

Oh, did I mention Lawrence Welk? Oh, yes, I did. What a creepy guy. The sad part is, my father would get angry if I would say anything against him. Sigh.

OK. But all that said, here’s the hypocritical part, and the part that simply makes me shake my head. Remember when I said all classical music was OK?

Do you know the history behind some of that classical music?

Womanizing, wonton sex (I hope I spelled that right and didn’t just say sex with a chinese delicacy), witchcraft, devilry, drugs. Have you ever looked at the story behind “Symphonie Fantastique”? Some of that stuff was downright ribald! But as long as there were no words, they’d look past it, because it sounded good and decent.

And you know what? That’s exactly their modus operandi. As long as it sounds good or looks good, no one would ever look underneath. “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen is probably more moral than Mozart’s Don Juan.

So then I reach my rebellious stage, and start to listen to 93-Q and KISS-FM. But I did it because it was the cool thing to do, and I only liked some of the music. But by that time I was so far out of the mainstream and so “uncool” it really didn’t matter.

Maybe some of those ABBA songs weren’t for young ears. OK, I can buy that. But not all pop music was bad. Not even all metal was bad. It was just… music. And all my parents and the WCG accomplished was alienating me further from my colleagues in school. And for what? For having me listen to music that was just as ribald or even worse – as long as it didn’t have words.

My father hated opera, btw. Too snooty for him. He actually hated the “rich”. But I’ll get into that some other time.

When you come right down to it, it was yet another way they tried to mold you into what they wanted rather than letting you be what you wanted to be.

herbversion.com is borne out of a dream that I had last night. I will not go into details about what it is about – as there are some details about my life and sexuality that I am barely even comfortable sharing with lovers, much less all of you, friends that you are – but it cemented rather strongly in my mind the notion that a large amount of the damage that I have to deal with – maybe not 50% but a very sizable chunk – is related to that aspect of my life. I think that the reason for this is that sex is a very primal and raw need.

And it is something that is not discussed amongst the ex WCG community. Just as there seems to be an unspoken taboo against swearing, against cursing God, against calling things as they are in favor of being “civil” (all taboos which I have quite deliberately and gleefully shattered), there is an unspoken taboo about talking about sex. Even on J’s “adult forum” most people seemed to shy away, or dipped a toe in and promptly pulled it out red-faced. There simply seemed to be no acceptance whatsoever of this side of them.

I’m sure that some ex-wcgers do have a good sex life. But I bet if you were to dig down deep – particularly amongst those raised in the WCG – you would find some dysfunction in even those people.

This taboo needs to be shattered. And considering that I have spent a lot of time on the web, and had my sensitivity to porn, etc., worn down to a point where I can talk about some things freely, then this is what I will do.

The WCG, like most religions, taught that there is only one acceptable place for sex. Between a married man and woman. Or, to be completely 100% accurate, between a married man and woman, both of whom are in the church. I honestly think they thought of people outside the church as no more than animals, going whereever their carnal urges take them. But we all were so much better than that – we had gawd on our side. We had self control.

Every single fucking person in the WCG was one of three things. Married, miserable, or a liar. And it may just be one of two things because in the WCG, I think married and miserable was kind of synonymous.

And the WCG taught their children very simply: no sex until marriage. And that includes “godly self-love” (I’m taking a rather amusing turn of phrase from someone on I think the Painful Truth a long, long time ago). Of course, children are not taught what it is or how to avoid it. They’re left to discover it themselves, after which they face a grilling by their parents and then are made to feel guilty about it. At least this was my experience.

I first discovered “godly self-love” when I was around 9 years old. I discovered it quite by accident, as I was so naive I honestly thought it was pee.

I did not discover that a woman might actually want me even if I did it until I was 19. When I tearfully confessed to a girlfriend that I did that every night and if she didn’t want me anymore it would be OK, I understand. She told me in no uncertain terms that it was perfectly OK and natural and that a woman might even want you less if you didn’t.

This floored me. But I want you to take a look at the timeframe here.

I started when I was nine. It was ten fucking years (pardon the pun) before I figured out that I didn’t have to feel guilty about it.

Nine to nineteen.

These are the sexually formative years.

This is… inexcusable.

I was not the only one. I have talked about the YOU skanks that got pregnant. I call them skanks, but you know what, they were probably as confused or moreso than I was. I would bet cash that they had no idea what even fit where, or that it felt good, until their partner showed them. I would bet cash that they were so fucking naive that they didn’t even know you could use a condom. I would bet cash that their getting pregnant was a major shock to the parents, because they had no idea their kids were even thinking like that.

Because they “taught them better”.

Tn years of feeling guilty about doing something natural. 10 years of not interacting with a girl ever because I wondered if they could tell I did it and would hate me. 10 years of looking at random people and wondering if they knew what I was doing. 10 years of trying to hide it, and knowing that I failed. 10 years of seeing God in my bedroom looking down on me and shaking his head in disapproval. 10 years of knowing that every single time I did it I was “breaking the Sabbath” and sinning, and cementing my undesirability to girls and women. 10 years of every single interaction with the opposite sex being colored by all this.

There are some other elements to this as well that I will have to go into privately with my therapist. Because there are certain things that even I will not share here.

But this is not right. And I refuse to believe that my story was atypical.

This is a whole aspect to the Armstrongism survivor story that I have rarely heard addressed. And it needs to be. Because what this amounts to is a systematic effort by all levels of the WCG authority to stamp out and/or control a basic human need and drive – to turn it towards their interests – and to run slipshod over the natural development of its children in the process. And every time we do not talk about it, the armstrongites win.

So now comes the part of the post where I lose my temper. Because I will not allow these fucking armstrongites to win even a little bit more. I will not allow them to control the discourse, I will not allow them to condescendingly accuse me of having abandoned the way, I will not allow them to bludgeon me with the “Im praying for you” crap. I will not allow it. Because every time these fucking armstrongites try to change the discourse away from this, and succeed – they win just a little bit more, imposing their worldview on us. I WILL NOT HAVE IT.

Hear that, armstrongites? Hear that, flurry, weinland, et al.? You fucking hypocrites? You damn well better leave other peopls’ sex lives alone!. Because it’s NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, YOU STUPID, IDIOTIC MORONIC FUCKING ASSHOLES!.

I have begun to realize over the past couple of days exactly how much damage the WCG has done to me – sexually. I didn’t realize this before, but I do now. And I was thinking about what to do about it.

I don’t know.

But I’m not the only one in this boat.

So I created a new forum. (yes, another ex-wcg forum, but this one is different). It is designed to be a place where you can discuss this aspect of your churchgoingness anonymously and in relative safety.

This aspect of our lives has been swept under the rug for way too long.

I am not going to post stories under AS. I may post under a pseudonym – but I’m going to wait for a while until the forum gets going, and I am not going to tell you who I am. I may even change writing styles a bit.

See you there if you’re so moved. No obligation, but I want to make it available.

Hmm, kind of help if I tell you where it is? herbversion.com

“Let the dead bury their own.”

How often did you hear those words from the pulpit?

Cook for the unconverted poor at a homeless shelter? Better to sit in the rented hall and enjoy a bountiful kosher potluck instead! Let the dead bury their own.

Give money to a deserving charity that will actually use your donation to help others, or “give to god” to ensure your rightful place in the Kingdom, as a member of “the gawd family”? Gawd’s way is the way of “give” (tithing) not the way of “get” (withholding money from “gawd”). Better to give your hard-earned money to “the work” instead of wasting it on “the world”. Let the dead bury their own.

Speak to or acknowledge a disfellowshipped member of your congregation who has been put out unjustly? They have rejected gawd’s truth. Better to cross to the other side of the street, then cross paths with them! Let the dead bury their own.

Reach out to a fellow member of gawd’s true church who appears to be suffering from depression or anxiety? They are clearly not converted enough! (Hint: They might even be demon-possessed!) Better to try and get in the good graces of the ministry and their wives, so you can work your way up the ranks instead. Let the dead bury their own.

Suffer through conflict with extended family members, over disagreements about the beliefs and practices of “the one true church”? Better to just cut them off completely. When Gawd’s Kingdom Comes, they’ll get theirs!  Let the dead bury their own.

Those who had never been “called to the truth”, those who had “rejected gawd’s true church”, and everyone in between, were considered spiritually dead.

“Let the dead bury their own.”

Death was a dreamless soul-sleep, a stateless, graceless limbo, from which one would be awakened, after the end of the world. Either in the First Resurrection, where you would take your rightful place as a member of the gawd family, or a spot in the Third Resurrection, where you faced a long walk off a short plank, into eternal oblivion.

Regardless of which resurrection you were slated for, the first or the third, the raising up part would be identical in both cases: Your bones would rise from beneath the earth and knit together, as your organs, muscles and flesh drew up around your skeleton like a fresh suit of clothes.

As children who have escaped the church, we are the walking dead. There is no Kingdom Coming, there will be no soul-sleep death, and no resurrections for us, first, third, or otherwise.

But maybe, just maybe, we are resurrecting ourselves now. Through the act of naming our pasts and no longer letting them hold sway over us. Instead of flesh and blood and muscle pulling together over knitting bones, maybe we are breathing life into our dead “spirits”, that have been in limbo for all of our lives. Religion no longer holds sway over us. Petty, despotic little men no longer have the ability to make us tremble in fear. Neither does the blind god they so unwittingly worship.

We are the walking dead. But our limbo is far from complete. We can rise from the ashes of our pasts, stronger, if not necessarily better or “normal”. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Not a pleasant concept, but all too true.

There will be no Great White Throne Judgement God sitting with the Book of Life in hand to decide our fates, whether or not we are “resurrected” after the end of the world. There is no such god sitting in judgement of us now, for not choosing to suspend our disbelief for three-thousand-year-old mythologies that have done far more harm, than good, since they have been unleashed upon the world.

Every single one of us holds a “book of life” in our hands. It is the book of our own lives. Every person, place, thing, and memory that led us to where we are, to this very moment. The pages that have already been written cannot be un-turned. We may refer back to them for wisdom or insight, but it is through the lens of the pages that are yet to come, that we view what was written on our pasts.

There is one basic difference between these books of our own lives, and the “Book of Life” that the blind god holds over the heads of the true believers.

We can write our own ending.

“Because no matter how much I say who did it, and who is to blame, after I click “publish” I feel just a little better, but nothing really has changed.” – Russ, “Hitting Bottom”

You feel “just a little better”. That’s a change, no matter how small.

Sorry. I’m not trying to be trite. I am struggling with much the same things right now. I’m lucky in that I’m in a place where I have a pretty good support system, so that’s made all the difference in the world for me.

In the end though it does come down to it being just me, always me. I don’t know if this helps you or not, but I have definitely accepted that. Instead of taking it as “it’s only me” I have tried to take that “it’s only me, because I am the only one who can be responsible for myself, and I AM responsible for myself”.

We have to live with the consequences. That is a fact. The consequences of being children of the church ain’t pretty, and the consequences are definitely NOT our fault. No matter how badly the self-obssessed bible-beating evangelical bastards want us to think it is, just because we can’t “accept Horus”.

Thing is, we can live with the consequences. We just have to make a conscious choice to not be the consequences. Know what I mean?

The way I see it, when I write a post, once whatever it is that is holding you back is out (whether it is through the blog or talking to a shrink or tapping your forehead or whatever method you use), it is out, and then it is time to let it go. Once I hit Publish, it’s out there, it’s gone. And a little bit of the power the memory had over me is gone too.

Your life up to this point may be a direct result of everything that went before (I know mine certainly is). But that is what went before. What we have is now, and yet to come. If you recognize the ill effects the past has had on you, you can work to try and recognize the lingering effects that are still in your present life. And you can change those effects. I promise you, you may not be able to change the cause, but you can sure as hell modify the effects! It isn’t easy, it isn’t instant, but it can be done.

Hitting bottom is never pleasant. But at least you can kick off from the bottom and swim up. It might take a long time, and you might get some water in your mouth along the way, but as long as you keep your eyes open and pay attention — maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

Did any of that help? I was going to leave this as a comment, but decided to publish it as a post instead. I’m certain there are more people out there than just you who probably feel exactly the same way.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go pull seaweed out of my teeth…..

There is a scene in the Harry Potter books where Harry gets into a serious Quidditch accident. He is laying down on the ground with a broken arm. A fairly incompetent professor more interested in looking good than actually being competent runs over and yells “I’ll save you”. One hurried spell later, Harry has no bones in his arm after all and has to spend a night in the hospital wing undergoing the effects of skele-gro, regrowing the arm.

Gilderoy had good intentions, but it would have been better if he just hadn’t tried to help.

With that said, I would also like to comment on the comment that Aggie commented on, but I’d like to come at it from a different angle – I’d like to actually pick apart what he said. I would hope that he would be ashamed of himself.

I’d like to explore this “bitterness” thing a bit. First, I know by personal experience that God loves us, and has the keys to open our minds. He returns again, and again, sometimes in blatant ways, and sometimes in subtle ways, not willing to give any of us up to the enemy. God knows how to “get to” even the most hopelessly bitter person, and to turn that person’s life around. All that is needed is time, circumstance, and that person’s vulnerability or receptiveness. And, God can even use our hot buttons, life’s circumstances, or things which hold deep meaning to each of us personally, to create that vulnerability.

Even right here, the commenter (Byker Bob) makes a very offensive comment. This particular turn of phrase is saying that God actually sets things up so that people are at their worst. I find this deeply offensive, because I do not want to think of a God having engineered the past 32 years of hell suddenly coming into my life saying “Here I am!”. I want nothing to do with a God like that.

We know that physical ailments are often caused by or exacerbated by our thought processes. On the blogs and forums, I’ve observed the comments and reactions of several identifiable types of people. As they relate to Armstrongism, one type consists of the folks we might describe as being in their bitterness state, while the other type has either avoided this, or has found a way past all of it to a new relationship with the real God (not the one the Armstrongs used as a boogeyman). I’ve noticed a marked difference in the ways in which the two groups of people handle life’s challenges. For sure, there is sickness and calamity in both groups’ lives. That is random, and natural. Amongst the bitter, though, there is also depression, sometimes anxiety or panic attacks, and a general feeling of hopelessness, or resolution. But, those who have corrected their relationship with God will often request prayer, express enthusiasm that God will help them, and then report positive results, encouraging everyone! I just love the internet, because it allows one to observe different people secretly, and scientifically. You can observe patterns, and it helps you determine what works and what does not work!

You know, I find this kind of condescending. I think in Bob’s own way he is saying that bitterness does not do your general health good. Strictly speaking, it may be true – but then in the same breath he says “don’t be bitter, and God will help you through it!”, with a strong implication that God is the only thing that can help them. Sorry, Bob, but bullshit.

Bitterness should be a temporary or transitory state of mind. Some people experience it, while others don’t. It is not a universal reaction, but some must go through it as they process what has gone wrong in their lives from listening to, or being manipulated by the wrong people. But, this bitterness is something that God can heal! Jesus Christ tells us woe unto those who would offend one of these little ones! (paraphrase or synopsis of Luke 17:1-2) I believe Jesus knew the entire anguishing thought process or syndrome which affects the minds of those who have been betrayed, exploited, or taught false and, therefore, unworkable teachings. In fact, today, He’d probably be on some of the “bitterness” forums ministering to and helping people. Actually, I know for a fact that He actually is doing this. But, He does it through the words of some of the people in whom He is living, who are also on the forums.

Oh, really convenient. God is helping people through his people posting on forums. I tend to agree that he would be ministering to and helping people. But, Bob, you’re really not helping here.

There is no question that true Christians will pray for those who are in mental agony. Knowing what a horrible mental state some of our former fellow brethren are in, how could a compassionate person not? How could someone claiming to be a minister, let alone a Christian, stand up and point the finger derisively at angry and hurting people?

Fair enough. Although I would suggest that actually doing is better than praying.

Don’t these people know that the God who made our minds can transform people from their misery, and restore them to a healthy and productive state of mind? How many times have we heard the ACOG mantra, the blanket misapplication of Jesus words, to anyone who is not an ACOG member in good standing, “Let the dead bury the dead”? I don’t believe that Jesus intended this to be a catchall phrase. Not my Jesus, who is the Good Shepherd, concerned for prodigal sons, and/or willing to go to extraordinary lengths to rescue the one sheep wandering off from the 99!

Then why hasn’t he?

A healthcare professional once told me, “Bob, as long as they’re alive, there’s hope! Never give up!” I’ve come to realize, through many of life’s experiences, that that is the epitome of a Christ-like attitude.
I like to see bitterness out in the open, and discussed freely. A person who exposes his or her bitterness is not holding it bottled tightly inside of them. He or she is sharing, and that is the first step to recovery!

Thank you so much for that Bob. But there are several things that strike me about this whole missive.

1) You seem to have forgotten where you came from. I had hoped that someone like you would have a deeper understanding than this of how offensive some people who are hurting might find these words.

2) You seem to feel that God is the only way to recover. This is a strikingly condescending attitude.

I think you honestly meant well, but this feels like a pat on the head and a “feel better”. All fine and good, but completely misses the point and is deeply offensive in the process.

Sorry, Bob. I get what you’re trying to say, but I also understand why Aggie responded so viscerally, and I have to say – you’re not helping.

I had a post kind of planned out for today. A conversation with a higher-up where I work kind of blew that post into the ground and left post-bits scattered all across the wall and ceiling. Instead, I think tonight’s post is going to be about hitting bottom.

Am I at the bottom? No, I don’t think I am. I think I was at the bottom about 10 years ago when I couldn’t do anything but sit there and shake and had to swallow my pride and reach out to someone I really did not want to reach out to. I was at the bottom when I couldn’t keep a job and all I could do was sit there and worry about where the next meal was going to come from. I was at the bottom when I didn’t have a house and had to move back in with my parents for a few months.

But it certainly does feel like the bottom when you realize how deep into the well you are. It does you very little good to look down and see how far you’ve come when you can look up and see how far you have to go. When you are 50 feet into a trip that’s 3,000 miles, you may as well be at the beginning, even if you’ve scraped and clawed for that 50 feet.

The blame game is satisfying for a time, and it is healthy to be angry when someone has wronged you. And when you are talking about the scale of wrongs that have been chronicled on this site and others, there is definitely room for a lot of anger. But you can rant and scream and yell, and the thing is that no matter how much you rant and scream and yell things will be exactly the same after you do so as they are before it. It changes nothing at all in your situation but how you look at the situation.

Sometimes that is useless, and sometimes it makes all the difference.

I liken the past 10 years to a fog. An anger, fear, hate filled fog that blinded me to all but what was in my immediate surroundings. I stumbled around, and I saw a few things, but the fog was blinding and all emcompassing.

This week, the fog has lifted, and I do not like what I am surrounded by. I am surrounded by a desolate wasteland – desolate and not even beautiful, like the mountains in the southeast california and arizona desert. Desolate. Not a person around. All of the river beds are dry, all of the houses are crumbled to dust. There is simply nothing there.

I think a case can be made that you hit bottom when the fog lifts and you see exactly what has become of your life.

In that case, I may have hit bottom tonight.

All the progress I have made over the past 10 years – it’s not wasted, but it was simply so that I could see in excruciating detail exactly how much is left.

I could make a comment as to who did this, as to who is responsible, as to who made the mess and left me to pick up the pieces. I could, but I won’t. I won’t because I just don’t have the energy anymore. Because no matter how much I say who did it, and who is to blame, after I click “publish” I feel just a little better, but nothing really has changed. Nothing at all. And maybe nothing will.

Perhaps this blog is nothing but a narcissistic exercise – a pretense that someone is listening, that I’m actually accomplishing something of value. Because tonight I will still go to bed alone, tomorrow I will continue finding out how damaged I am and how much I have damaged or destroyed things, and this weekend will be spent exactly how I spend every weekend.

This is not a life. This is a sad parody of a life. And at this point I don’t care of Tkach, etc., are happy or not. I don’t care if they’re rich or not. What’s done is done, and I have to live with the consequences. No one else. Me.

Always me.

Thanks to Felix Taylor for supporting AS.

Unfortunately three of the comments in response to Felix’s support have amounted to little more than altar calls for Jebus, and a truly “Christian” blame-the-victim comment that tries to convince readers that we (Armstrongist survivors who are not “Christians”) are more anxious, depressed, bitter, etcetera, simply because we haven’t “found Jebus”.

Listen here you fucking self-centred asshole Christians: Your wonderful great loving savior Jesus never actually existed. The canonical christian bible was an amalgamation of the Jewish Septuagint and the fucking MYTHOLOGIES of the EGYPTIAN MYSTERY SCHOOLS of Isis/Osiris/Horus. “Jesus” is actually an archetypal copy of the Egyptian deity HORUS. Virgin birth, walked among men, had twelve disciples, performed miracles, was crucified, travelled through hell after death, and yes, was resurrected in three days.

HORUS. Not Jesus. Jesus was a poor fanfiction copy of the Egyptian Book of Gates, and the Book of the Dead, which are translations of Egyptian stele. From EGYPT. HORUS. Jesus never existed. Neither did Horus, but the ancient Egyptians thought Horus was real. Constantine and the council just adapted the Egyptian myths to try and bring a crumbling empire under control through a unified religion.

If I am depressed, anxious, “bitter”, etcetera, it is because of my PAST you fucking self-righteous bible-beaters. Not because my present worldview does not include willingly accepting three thousand-year-old MYTHOLOGY as fact.

Enough with the fucking altar calls. Just ENOUGH. You found Horus, and all your bitterness and anger melted away? Bully for you. And to hell with everyone else, you say, oh but that’s why you spend so much time trying to convert the poor “spiritually lost”. And if we choose not to believe in Horus, or accept YOUR version of the mythology as true, well then we can just lie in the beds we made, we’re just bitter and angry and “anxious” and “depressed” JUST BECAUSE we aren’t christians.

IF we are anxious and bitter and depressed (I am none of these things by the way — I am justifiably angry about what happened to me in my past) it is BECAUSE OF THE CHURCH WE GREW UP IN. Which is a logical fucking reason, given some of the horror stories that have come out since this blog started.

Fucking evangelicals. The most self-obssessed, self-centred individuals on the face of the fucking planet. What was that about the golden rule? Do unto others? So you really want other people to tell you you’re worthless pieces of shit who get everything you deserve because you’re not doing what people are trying to browbeat you into doing?

Huh. What do you know. The Golden Rule really does work.

There is a place for justified anger. This is it. If you don’t like the fact that we’re atheists, that’s fine, you’re entitled to that opinion. Just as I am entitled to the opinion that you are self-congratulatory bible-beating bastards that are a blight upon the face of THIS planet, while NON-christian humanity is busy exploring the face of another planet.

But don’t you DARE try and impute, implicate, or insinuate, that our JUSTIFIABLE REACTIONS TO OUR PAST have ANYTHING AT ALL TO DO WITH BEING ATHEISTS. IT FUCKING DOESN’T.

The post that Aggie refers to below, this post, has to be probably one of the most power testimonies to life in the WCG that I have ever seen. If I had my way, Armstrongites would be forced to read this post, over and over, just like Germans were forced to see the death camps after the Allies took over.

It is hard to find just one person to place blame on, as it really goes right up the chain, from parent all the way up to Helge. But what makes me the angriest is how CW was treated when he tried to bring it to light – and how he was treated when he finally did. I believe this to be true because when I tried to tell the minister how I was being treated (Eugene Noel, the BASTARD) he brushed me off in quite the same way.

I wish CW would name the minister and the lawyer. I wish he would do so so that the world would know exactly what a fucking piece of shit those people were or are. I think many people have gone through this experience thinking that the leaders of the WCG were bumbling and inept, but fundamentally good people. I hope this story disavows that notion once and for all.

They were nothing but a pile of useless crooks, and they knew exactly what they were doing.

If this story doesn’t make your blood boil, you are a poor excuse for a human being. And if I hear anyone, anywhere – anyone – diminish this story or try to blame CW, or if I hear anyone trying to defend the minister, or if I hear anyone trying to defend Helge, the WCG, or anyone in this story other than CW or the abused, I will personally open such a huge can of invective-based whoopass on them that they will have no idea what hit them. And I will make sure that can of invective-based whoopass is spread so far and wide across the web that they will never be able to pop their head up above their little burrow again without someone knowing exactly what a pile of festering filth they are.

I’m serious. Don’t try me.

CW, thank you for sharing. We need more stories like yours – not because they are good, but because they are needed. Perhaps something will penetrate the thick, useless, idiotic heads of the die-hard Armstrongites. If this doesn’t do it, nothing will, and I suggest you just close down your site, because you are simply wasting your breath. There are so many pearls you can cast before swine before you accomplish nothing but getting mud all over them.

We are not setting out to make friends here. We are telling the unvarnished truth, about ourselves, our pasts, and how our pasts have shaped ourselves, here in the present. We cuss, we cry, we rage against the machine that was(is) Armstrongism. That automatically puts the blinders on, for some people.

If you are one of those “some people”, then I have a request for you. One request. If you read nothing else on this site, if you read nothing else on any of the other anti-CoG sites, read this one post from As Bereans Did’s “Contributing Writer”: Poison Doctrine: The Dichotomy of Armstrongism.

We are the children of this church.

We are the children of this church.

We are the children of this church!!