The mind is at birth a clean sheet, a tabula rasa, wrote John Locke. This column is yours. Sincerity, rather than writing skill, is the only requirement.
I entered John Umstead Hospital (Butner), on, or around the 13th of March, 1975.
Immediately my ass was pulled from my britches and 500 ccs. of thorazine were poured into my body to replace my soul, dignity, and mind.
As I ran around like a wild yahoo my entire span of life shot past. I slid into second, stole third, and died psychologically as I touched home with a new identity. The new identity was solid gold, like a piece of warm dung.
