Canadian Armed Forces – Page 4

Jurisdiction and other ramblings.

In the 14 years that I’ve been dealing with the Canadian Forces, one thing that I have become acutely aware of is that the National Defence Act isn’t written in stone. It’s written in jelly. Jelly with diced fruits that can be moulded and mushed to mean whatever the military wants.

When I sent my email to the Edmonton Police Service in March of 2011, I didn’t contact the EPS because I couldn’t figure out how to send an email to the military police.

I did this because when I tried reporting the babysitter back in 1984 and 1990 the military police on CFB Namao told me on both occasions that the babysitter was a military dependent, and therefore he was a civilian and he had to be dealt with by the civilian police.

This is why I was greatly surprised in 2011 when I was contacted by the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service and told that the CFNIS would be running the investigation because the events happened on a military base.

It would later me confirmed that when the EPS contacted the CFNIS via ASIRT that the CFNIS had claimed that at the time of the offences back in 1980 my complaint would have been the jurisdiction of the Morinville RCMP but that the CFNIS would claim jurisdiction. The CFNIS also decided to check with the RCMP and other agencies to see if I had tried making complaints with anyone else.

My original complaint in 2011 was solely against the babysitter. In hindsight I know that the CFNIS knew about Captain McRae because of specific questions that I was asked by Mcpl Hancock during my original interview.

The involvement of Captain McRae was first brought to my attention by Mcpl Christian Cyr on May 3rd, 2011. Before this date I had never made a connection between the occasions when the babysitter took me to the chapel and the “sickly sweet grape juice” that I’d always be given.

As soon as the connection between my babysitter and captain McRae was made clear I started reaching out for lawyers with military experience. The few ex-JAGs that I was able to contact were all well out of my price range, but they were all adamant that if my complaint was against the babysitter that I needed to get this matter removed from the military system as the military system didn’t have jurisdiction to deal with this matter.

One of the ex-JAGs pointed me in the direction of the proper civilian police. The outside civilian police force having jurisdiction for civilian matters on CFB Namao / Edmonton Garrison was the RCMP in Morinville, not the Edmonton Police Service like I had originally believed.

I made contact with the RCMP Morinville detachment in June of 2011. I dealt with a constable from the detachment who took my information and said that he’d look into things for me. Nothing became of this until I filed a Freedom of Information Request with the RCMP.

The information that I received back was appalling. The RCMP constable had been told by the CFNIS that my complaint was likely to go nowhere due to a complete lack of evidence. The constable in turn sent out a detachment wide (and possible force wide) email alerting other members and RCMP brass of the futility of my complaint and that “I was just trying to further my agenda against the Canadian Forces”.

At this point in time the CFNIS hadn’t tried to locate any of the other victims, hadn’t spoken to my brother, and had made no attempts to talk to the babysitter or his father. None of this would occur until after the CFNIS had told the RCMP in June that the was a complete lack of evidence.

The National Defence Act over the years has been very clear as to the jurisdiction of the military police in regard to military dependents. Military dependents are only subject to arrest by the military police and prosecution by the military justice system when the dependents are outside of Canada and accompanying their serving parent while that parent is on active duty with the Canadian Forces.

When pressed on this the CFNIS and the Provost Marshal both claim that the CFNIS could investigate this matter, and then they’d simply hand the case over to the civilian police to effect the arrests. That’s not how this works.

Nor does the fact that the members of the military police and the CFNIS have the powers of peace officers when conducting their duties. The CN Police, the mayor of any city, and civilian aircraft pilots all have the powers of peace officers while discharging their duties. But their duties are very specific and have very defined boundaries. Military police and the CFNIS are charged with enforcing the Code of Service Discipline. They are not and never have been a secondary civilian police force. And military dependents are NOT subject to the Code of Service Discipline in Canada. They never have been and they never will be. There is a very obvious reason as to why we are not subjected to the Code of Service Discipline in Canada.

These jurisdictional boundaries were also made clear in a 1998 Directive from the Canadian Forces Provost Marshal titled CFMP 2120-4-0. Offences committed by civilians not subject to the Code of Service Discipline are to be handed off to the outside civilian authorities having jurisdiction.

This was reiterated by Lieutenant General Christine Whitecross. She had been asked during a hearing of the Standing Committee on National Defence by Vice co-chair Randall Garrison in matters like mine, who has jurisdiction to investigate. Her response was that matters like mine are always handed off to the civilian authorities having jurisdiction.

The interesting this about this is that in the days prior to this hearing, Rachel Ward, an “investigative reporter” with the CBC news program “Go Public” whom had taken over my story from Jenn Blair had asked me to keep her posted and to let her know about what was said as this would have serious impact on the direction of my story.

Almost immediately after Lt.-Gen. Christine Whitecross said what she had said during the committee hearing, Randall’s assistant called me to let me know. Randall himself called me shortly after. Randall told me where I could find the video of the hearing on the parliamentary website. I called Rachel’s number. No answer. Just a message stating that the subscriber had not set up their voice mail. A call to CBC Calgary yielded “We have no record of a Rachel Ward working here”. I managed to get through to mgmt. within the “Go Public” program.

Talk about some very serious misandry. I get the feeling that the mgmt within “Go Public” subscribes to the notion that males cannot be sexually assaulted, that males can only be abusers, that males can never be abused.

Yes, this is actually true.
Male children cannot be victims of sexual assault.
Only girls can be.
Boys can only be the perpetrators.

Apparently between the time Rachel Ward deep sixed the interview between myself and Jenn Blair and today, Rachel has been involved with covering sexual assaults in the military and how the military justice system is defective and has failed women.

But, in all of her stories, has she ever looked at children that live or lived on the bases in Canada? Nope.

It’s like we never have existed. Especially not boys.

Also, I can see news reporters sitting around in the news room going “Hey, did you see this nutcase? He said that children were in the military and lived in military housing! What a clown! Children! In the military! And living on bases to boot! What a fucking lunatic!”

God damn it, how many times do I have to spell it out for you idiots?
CHILDREN were never in the military and therefore couldn’t be on military bases!!
This Bobbie guy is obviously a fucking lunatic!

So yeah, I don’t really have much in the way of respect for the media.

The end of the coverage

Well, it’s official, I’ve lost the media support that I’ve had for this matter.

Unfortunately David Pugliese appears to be the victim of a concerted smear campaign. And he’s gonna be swamped for the unforeseeable future.

I’m going to let Chat take the driver’s seat for a bit here:

🚨 Nature of Threats and Harassment

1. Death Threats

Following accusations in late October 2024 by former Conservative cabinet minister Chris Alexander that he had ties to the KGB, David Pugliese reported receiving death threats directed both at him and his family Yahoo News Canada+12CityNews Halifax+12theprogressreport.ca+12.

2. Deportation Scaremongering

Individuals have told his family members that they should leave the country or be deported — even though Pugliese and his relatives are Canadian citizens classic107.com.

3. Anonymized Attacks on Reputation

He has also endured anonymous attacks on his character, slurs implying disloyalty, and repeated questioning of his integrity in social and political commentary LinkedIn+8The Maple+8readtheorchard.org+8.

Needless to say that David id going to be pre-occupied for the next little while.

For the last couple of years David’s been promising to sit down with me, but things always keep coming up and nothing seems to ever gel. But David has written articles about me in the past, specifically my struggles with DND and the CAF to get my hands on captain McRae’s court martial transcripts as well as the Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit paperwork related to the investigation of captain McRae for committing “acts of homosexuality with young boys on the base”.

I told David that unfortunately my anxiety levels and my depression levels get hammered when dates come and go, so I suggested that we hold off on any type of interviews or communications until March of 2027 as that will hopefully be the beginning of the closing chapter of my life.

It would be nice to sit down at that point in time and see what my perspective is at that point in time.

I had contact with various other news agencies, media outlets, and reporters and none could have shown any concern in the slightest.

You would think that a child sexual abuse scandal on a Canadian Forces Base that involved over 25 children who were sexually abused by an officer of the Canadian Armed Forces and his teenage accomplice would have garnered some interest in the media.

Nope.

Not a single bit of interest at all.

Sure, you’ll get the some media outlets claiming that “we ran the press release from the lawyers, what more do you want?”.

Well, it’d be nice to talk about the number of bases we had in Canada back then. That Angus Alexander McRae wasn’t the only kiddie diddling catholic priest that had been given an officer’s commission by the Canadian Forces and allowed free access to children living on restricted defence establishments.

It would be nice to talk about the lack of care or protection that children had on the bases. Or how dysfunctional households were ignored or simply transferred to other bases to get rid of the problems. Or how the CAF and the DND have always viewed military dependents living on the bases as “being their at their own risk”.

It would be nice to talk about how the incompetent military police and CFSIU that couldn’t protect women in the military from sexual assault was just as worthless at protecting the children whom lived on the bases in Canada.

It would be nice to talk about how flaws in the pre-1998 National Defence Act have allowed the Canadian Armed Forces to pretend that child sexual abuse never occurred on the bases prior to 1998 and that children were never sexually abused by members of the Canadian Armed Forces on defence establishments.

The CBC didn’t care.

The Passionate Eye didn’t care.

The National didn’t care

Global News didn’t care.

16X9 didn’t care.

CTV didn’t care.

W5 didn’t care.

L’Actualite didn’t care.

Macleans didn’t care.

Rogers Media didn’t care.

The Canadian Press didn’t care.

The Edmonton Journal didn’t care.

Even Scott Taylor’s Esprit de Corps didn’t care.

I’ve had some people express something of interest in the past.

There’s Jennifer Tryon.

There’s Jenn Blair. She sorta ran with my story. But when Jenn was replaced by Rachel Ward all of the interview materials were scrapped by Rachel. Rachel trivialized the whole issue and wrote it off as a non-issue better handled as an “interactive time line”. Rachel even got extremely pissed off at me when I informed her that then Vice co-chair of the Defence Committee Randal Garrison had obtained testimony from Lt. Gen. Christine Whitecross during a committee hearing that the CFNIS always hand off child sexual abuse investigations to the civilian authorities. This of course is not what happened in my matter. The CFNIS grabbed my investigation away from the civilian authorities and then ran the investigation into the ground.

Claude Adams was adamant that what I had been telling him couldn’t be true because if the brass tried to bury the sexual abuse of his kids, why he’d just go marching right down town to the city police and have the civilian police deal with it. Yeah Claude, that’s not going to happen in this lifetime.

So, you’re probably not going to hear a lot from me in the media over the next little while.

As I mentioned I did tell David that we should probably plan on talking in March of 2027.

PRIDE…..

Everyone at work assumes that I’m hanging out at the pride parade.

Nope, nothing could be further from the truth.

When pride rolls into town I go running for the hills.

The last time that I went to a pride parade or anything else associated with pride was back in August of 2006.

This was the first pride even that I had officially gone to.

And it was the last parade that I have ever gone to even though I live right in the West End.

The parades in the 2000’s were starting to be tamed and reigned in by corporate sponsorship.

And then there’s the nightclubs, the booze, the drugs and beer.

I’m not a party type of guy. I steer clear of booze. I don’t even like pain meds.

I’ve always identified as queer. Not gay, not bi, not trans, just queer.

I don’t like sex of any type.

And I don’t like being touched.

I don’t lose my shit over pop-culture.

I don’t go to the gym.

You get the picture.

I’m the modern day queer anti-queer.

In my life I’ve been accused of being a homosexual by my military social worker and by my father.

I was not allowed to play sports after Canadian Forces Base Namao because according to Captain Totzke it was very obvious that if I saw another naked boy that I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

There were the threats from Captain Totzke about having the military police on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach watching me to see if I ever kissed or touched another boy, and if I did that he was going to send me to the Alberta Hospital for psychiatric treatments.

I had my own father beat me and threaten to “break my fucking neck” if he ever heard of me kissing another boy after I had kissed the son of a Canadian Airborne Regiment sergeant that lived in PMQ #68 which was two doors down from our PMQ.

Captain Totzke and my father both explained that the Westfield program was a program for homosexual children to treat them to be normal. My own father even disguised his fleeing Alberta to avoid my apprehension by Alberta Social Services as being him saving me from the drugs the counsellors wanted to give me to cure me from liking other boys.

I’ve had the shit beat out of me at various different schools on and off base for being a fag, a homo, a cocksucker.

My own father asked me if I knew what “Gay” meant while I lived in his PMQ on Canadian Forces Base Downsview. He looked so pleased with himself when he said that gay meant “Got Aids Yet?”.

Living in the PMQs on Canadian Forces Base Downsview is where I also learnt that AIDS stood for “anally injected death sentence” and that the miracle of AIDs was that it “Turned fruits into vegetables”.

The Canadian Forces was replete with homophobia in the ’60, ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s.

Oh yes, life on base for a child questioning their own gender and their own sexual identity was not a pleasurable experience.

And no, the members of the Canadian Forces that were homophobic or racist didn’t check that homophobia or racism at the door. It came into the PMQs. Sure, not all of the parents in the PMQ patches were homophobic or racist, but that was the culture in the military back then. And good soldiers don’t make waves. This is also why nobody heard or saw domestic violence or child abuse and neglect on the bases.

I can’t really blame the other parents on base. That’s just the way things were at the time.

I worked for one employer that would make off the cuff jokes about gays and fags. Did I do anything? Fuck no. I needed the job.

I worked for one company that had a manager that would always refer to me as “Freddie Mercury” because he was sure that I was gay and that I’d get AIDs and die like Freddie.

I was even blacklisted by an immediate supervisor. When I went to his manager to complain, the supervisor’s manager said that this was mostly my fault as I was “too flamboyant” and that if I simply turned down my flamboyance things would be fine.

And yet here I am.

On anti-depressants and taking estrogen.

The anti-depressants don’t fix anything, they just make me more tolerable to my coworkers.

The estrogen isn’t going to fix anything. And no, it’s not going to convert me into a woman anytime soon, but it does relax my brain.

And still not feeling like I belong to the pride crowd……..

For the last little while I’ve run some of my posts through ChatGPT to see if there are any issues. Below is the response that I received after the typical grammar correction suggestions.

The funniest thing is that an LLM has given me the best response I’ve ever had to my issues. Sad that a LLM can offer more humane responses than real people.

💔 The Emotional Weight

Your post carries the trauma of being surveilled, threatened, beaten, outcast, mocked, and dehumanized — not just by society, but by people who were supposed to protect you: your father, military officers, school administrators, coworkers.

And still, you didn’t erase yourself.

You’re still here.

That matters. A lot.

🌈 About Pride

Your statement that you run for the hills when pride comes to town is valid.
Pride isn’t healing for everyone.
For people with backgrounds like yours — where being perceived as queer was met with violence, psychiatric threats, and institutional silence — Pride can feel like a glossy party over the site of an unacknowledged mass grave.

You’re not anti-queer.
You’re post-betrayal queer.
You’re queer with a memory.

One year ago today.

Well, it was one year ago today that Scott texted me wanting to how our class action against the Canadian Armed Forces was proceeding.

I explained to him that the DND and the DOJ were still trying to have me disallowed as the representative plaintiff.

He asked me if he should be the representative plaintiff.

And that was the last I ever heard of him.

The next time that I heard anything about him was on August 14th, 2024 when I received a next-of-kin visit from the Vancouver Police Department at the request of the Edmonton Police Service.

What killed him?

Still don’t know.

The official cause of death is “ruptured spleen” due to a fall.

But was the fall due to a heart attack? Heart attacks are a Gill clan specialty.

Was it a grand mal epilepsy seizure? His seizures were getting bad recently.

Was it his ketamine habit?

He had been taking Ketamine infusion treatments and apparently started finding his own sources of ketamine. When I went to his apartment back in August of 2024 to give the landlord the okay to dispose of his belongings someone showed me a picture of a needle of ketamine that had been found on Scott’s computer desk where he had been right before he got up and fell.

Someone else had confirmed that Scott had originally snorted the ketamine, but then quickly graduated into intravenous injections.

Because of where I work I am more than acutely familiar with how addictive ketamine is, and how deadly this drug is when misused.

I know that people are offered ketamine infusion therapy for the treatment of major depression, but it’s not something that I would ever entertain no matter how euphoric the high is and no matter how much it promises to free me from my depression.

I know that Scott suffered from depression. It would have been impossible to live in the Gill household and not come away with mental trauma, major depression, and anxiety.

Just as the coroner wasn’t able to establish a cause of death, they also weren’t able to establish an exact time of death. Scott was discovered only after the downstairs neighbour started to complain about a putrid liquid leaking into their suite.

Even though Scott had no will as I was the one disposing of his body I also had to make basic decisions about his apartment.

When I went in to the space the smell of death and rot was still heavy in the air even though the property management company had removed the plywood flooring and sealed the parts of the framing that couldn’t be removed.

Scott had apparently bought this condo suite a few years back. But he had apparently sold the condo suite a few months before his death and was paying rent to the new owner.

The condo was apparently sold for about $80k. What ever happened to that money is anyone’s guess. There really wasn’t anything worth keeping. And I couldn’t breathe in the space. As I said it smelt like death and rot. And I didn’t have a HEPA / Carbon half mask.

As I was listed as his executor on the cremation paperwork, when the crematorium provided his certificate of cremation to the credit reporting agencies I started getting a lot of calls from creditors asking when they were going to be paid.

But here’s the funny thing.

Even though I can pay to have his body cremated.

Even though I can choose what to do with his cremains.

I have no access to anything else.

I had one of his creditors that sent his outstanding bill to a credit agency and that credit agency wanted me to make payment arrangements.

Wrote a nice little letter to this agency informing them that I had absolutely no intention of paying seven to ten thousand dollars to a court to be awarded official legal executor status when it appeared for all intents and purposes that Scott had no money, no will, and no other relations outside of me.

Haven’t heard from them since.

So, with the death of Scott that means that the Gill / Dagenais blood line is finished. I’m the only one left. Scott’s dead. Richard’s dead, I’m sure that Marie’s dead.

Now, the really strange thing was the VPD knocked on my door on August 13th, 2024.

Our stepmother Sue lived up in Morinville, AB.

Morinville is maybe 30 minutes north of Edmonton on the St. Albert Trail.

I had taken the SIM card out of Scott’s phone and installed it into my phone as his phone was locked but it was blowing up with messages and texts. By installing the SIM I was able to read and respond to the text messages coming in to his phone.

Apple isn’t very helpful in situations like this.

The one message that I didn’t expect to ever see because of the bad blood Scott claimed existed between him and Sue was Sue herself.

Haven’t heard back from her since.

And honestly I don’t expect to hear back from her.

There wasn’t a lot of closeness in our family.

Richard was a piss tank alcoholic with a short fuse and rage issues.

We grew up on military bases where dysfunctional households were ignored and shunned.

Richard kept us isolated from our relatives.

Richard made sure that Scott and I and anyone who would listen understood that Scott and I were the unwanted baggage that he was forced to endure.

But yeah, much like when I had found out that Richard had died, Scott’s death hasn’t affected me much.

There had always been so much animosity between Scott and I.

Richard had pretty well washed his hands of his parental responsibilities and expected grandma and I to raise Scott. But grandma was just as much of an alcoholic as Richard was, and in the aftermath of CFB Namao I wasn’t psychologically able to look after myself let alone anyone else.

As I said, Richard wasn’t a dad, he was a father. And a very reluctant one at that.

He never raised Scott and I to be brothers.

For the most part he left Scott and I to grow up feral on the bases.

Scott went one way.

I went another.

Scott’s death does reinforce one thing for me and that is we, and by we I mean all humans in general, don’t matter and when we die, no one outside of immediate family gives a fuck. It’s like we may as well not exist.

Future Travel Plans.

Daily writing prompt

What are your future travel plans?

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Well, the USofA is out of the question. The situation down there isn’t going to clear up anytime before 2028 – 2029. And that’s assuming that Trump is out of office in 2029. And even then it will take a few years for normalcy to return. So as it stands, January of 2025 is probably the last time that I will ever be down to the USofA.

About the only place that I would want to travel to before March of 2027 would be Iceland for December 2026. I was in Iceland in 2023 for the summer solstice, so being in Iceland for the winter solstice would be a neat way to finish off my life.

Much like 2023 I’d stay for 14 days.

Just absorb the Aurora Borealis, the cold, and the isolation and get ready for March of 2027.

I have no idea of what will actually happen in March of 2027, I do know that after I make my application for Medical Assistance in Dying it will take a few months before I get to go for assessments. And then even after approval there’s a “90-day cooling off period”. So it’s not like I’ll be gone right away in March of 2027.

But I do think that if I manage to make it back to Iceland in December of 2026 that this will be my absolute final trip anywhere.

Maybe this time I’ll try to go to the north side of the island so that I can say that I’ve made it north of the Arctic circle.

Traditions?

Daily writing prompt

What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?

View all responses

This one is an easy one.

I’m not a piss tank alcoholic like my father was, so there’s that.

I’m also not a rage prone asshole that isn’t afraid to use physical violence to dominate others.

I don’t make up lies.

I don’t make promises I have no intention of keeping.

To the best of my knowledge my father had no traditions. He was so empty and so damaged that there was noting there. The only other adult that was in my life as a kid was my grandmother, but she was usually so drunk that she couldn’t pass on a tradition is she wanted to

Propaganda Day

There’s no propaganda like military propaganda.

When it comes to propaganda, no other agency has as many taxpayer dollars to blown like the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces.

Image control is what the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces are all about.

Do you think that any of the thousands of “patriotic” Canadians lining up for a tour of these ships has any knowledge of the fact that the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence are using taxpayer dollars to hide secrets from the Canadian public.

And I’m not talking about strategic secrets or operational secrets.

I’m talking of course the secrets revolving around how military dependents whom lived on the bases prior to 1998 for no other reason than the career choice of their parents are stripped of the same rights that other Canadians fully enjoy .

Whether its outright fuckups like the DND-419 fiasco, or the DND claiming that the Canadian Armed Forces were never responsible for the safety and security of military dependents, or the inability to lay charges for service offences that occurred prior to 1998, the DND and the CAF don’t care in the slightest.

The DND and the CAF have done such a great job of keeping the military’s dirty laundry out of the public eye and painting the military as this wholesome agency that would die to protect every Canadian’s child that it’s really easy for them to hide behind the ignorance of the public.

The DND and the CAF have lobbied so hard over the years to keep their private and separate justice system that even civilian lawyers a perplexed as to why these flaws were allowed to persist.

For instance, if a person who was in the regular forces in 1976 were to have sexually abused a military dependent in the recreation centre on base, who would have dealt with the charges at the time?

Well, if the military dependent was a 13 year old girl, this would be within the realm of the military justice system.

Why?

Members of the regular force are subject to the code of service discipline whether on-duty or off-duty, in uniform or not in uniform.

At the time the crime would have been considered “Sexual intercourse with female under the age of 14”.

This of course is not “Rape” as defined under the criminal code at the time. So this was well within the scope of the military justice system.

Next, unless the military police caught the offender in the act, it would be up to the commanding officer of the accused to decide if an investigation was warranted, and if an investigation was warranted then the commanding officer would have to determine the scope of the investigation.

Once the military police concluded their investigation, the results of the investigation would be handed over to the commanding officer of the accused for summary investigation.

It was the sole discretion of the commanding officer if the charges would proceed, if the charges were dismissed, or if other charges were substituted.

Now, remember how I said that as long as the charge wasn’t rape, the military could claim jurisdiction. That’s only for the tribunal.

The military couldn’t conduct a tribunal for rape. But the military sure could conduct the investigation, and the commanding officer could still dismiss the charges.

That doesn’t happen to kids who lived in the civilian world.

And no, crimes like these can’t be handled in the civilian justice system. You have to handle the charges as the law prescribed at the time of the offence.

And it’s all through the art of propaganda that the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence have been able to this shit hidden and out of the public eye.

I’ll admit that as a kid I was quite the flag waver.

Even back in the period of 1978 through 1983 I loved the Canadian Armed Forces and I loved being a base brat.

I joined cadets in the fall of 1984 with the full expectation that I would be going into the Canadian Forces when I was 18.

I was heartbroken when I applied to join in 1989 and 1991 and was turned down both times. (more on this later)

In my adult years I always went to Canada Day celebrations. I always wore a poppy for Remembrance day. When I worked for commercial property management I always ensured that the volunteer poppy sellers from the Legion always had a chair and a table to sit at and collect funds in the lobbies of the buildings that I oversaw.

Even in 2011 when I started dealing with this whole sickening matter, I actually took pride in the fact that the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service were investigating this matter.

Of course, in the aftermath of the whole fiasco, I became violently ill realizing that the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence not only hid and buried this whole mess back in 1980, but that they had suckered me in with their propaganda starting in my youth.

I had always thought that I was the problem. That CFB Namao was my fault. That I had indeed fucked with my father’s military career. That it was my fault that we had to move from Edmonton to Toronto.

Little did I realize that my life and my future mattered so little to the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence that they were more than willing to chuck me under the train if it meant that they could keep their propagandized image of being the fearsome and noble defenders of Canada.

So yeah, I don’t do remembrance day, nor do I do Canada day.

Addictions or lack thereof.

Just let me put my asbestos underwear on and my NOMEX fire suit before I get started.

One of the things that I’ve had to learn about in life is how society judges those who suffer from sexual abuse or from mental illness.

For example, to have endured any type of sexual abuse as a child, a person is expected to have a drug addiction and mental health issues like Claudia from the film Magnolia.

Anything less, and you’ve obviously never have endured any type of serious trauma.

For me to have any serious type of mental illness such as major depression or severe anxiety I’d have to be a cutter with numerous trips to the psych ward.

The one thing that I’ve learnt about mental health is that health care professionals only listen to you if others will vouch for your issues.

Unfortunately in my case I had two people running obstruction. What captain Totzke’s reason was is anyone’s guess. The Canadian Armed Forces had a secret to hide in 1980, and I was one of those secrets.

Yes, the wall of secrecy also meant keeping the total number of children involved away from the prying eyes of the public. And yes, that included keeping abused children from receiving care in the civilian mental health system.

My father? Well, he was a piss tank alcoholic in the military. And he was only a master corporal. Master corporals obey the lawful commands of captains. Don’t forget, my father didn’t get involved with captain Totzke on his own. Captain Totzke was brought in to deal with my brother and I.

So, with no one advocating for me I just drifted along.

Walk-in clinics don’t deal with mental health issues.

And for the most part family doctors won’t take on cases of mental illness.

Over the years I’ve managed to stay clear of alcohol.

The last time I ever had a drink of alcohol was back in July of 2011.

And I had only started drinking around 2004 due to the guys at work going out for a drink or two at the end of the month. Gotta be a team player. But outside of going to the pub for a drink once a month I’ve never actually ever had a bottle of alcohol or a can of beer in any of the places that I’ve lived.

Just seeing what alcohol would do to my grandmother or my father was more then enough to keep me away from the stuff. I know that my brother was somewhat of a drinker, but I don’t think that he was anywhere near the levels of our father or our grandmother.

When my grandmother moved out of the PMQ on CFB Giesbach and got her own apartment down on 106th street and 107th ave her storage room in the apartment would fill up over the course of the week with cases of Pilsner. My brother and I would have to help her wheel the empties over to the brewery for the deposit.

One of the cab companies back then had a delivery service back then where for a flat fee they’d pick up your case of beer at the brewery and deliver it to you. She used this service alot. As I said, it wouldn’t take long to fill up her little storage room with empties.

Even when she lived with us on CFB Griesbach she’d take us over to the Rosslyn pub while she was drinking, this even though the door of the pub clearly said “No Minors”. We’d have to sit and wait in the lobby of the pub while grandma got her drink on.

I think it was more the hang-over phase that scared me away from alcohol. Grandma and Richard would both become very angry when they were sobering up after days of drinking.

As far as drugs go, I think one of the reasons that I never got into drugs is the fact that I’m a loner. Because of the way captain Totzke and my father practically isolated me from the other kids on CFB Griesbach, and because of the way the other kids reacted to me on CFB Griesbach.

The maxim “misery loves company” best explains drug use. I don’t care what anyone says, nobody just goes out and gets into drugs by themself. They’re almost always introduced to drugs by someone else.

When I first moved to Vancouver in the winter of ’92 I spent a lot of time in the DTES. The SROs were just as bad back then as they are now. And drug use was just as rampant back then as it is now. Just now instead of being hidden in the back allies, it’s out in the open. Even when I was staying at the Catholic Charities on Cambie St. there was drug use amongst the lodgers.

I was offered “samples” so many times, but becuase I prefered to be left alone and becuase I prefered to be by myself, I never partook.

So, on one hand I successfully avoided the temptation of drugs, but on the other hand I set myself up for a lifetime of everyone doubting my claims of child sexual abuse.

As I said, society is of the opinion that one can’t have suffered through two years of child sexual abuse, 3 years of subsequent psychiatric malpractice, and 16 years of parental neglect, parental abuse, and a dysfunctional household while being employed and addiction free.

Without an addiction, did I really suffer?

Was I really abused?

Was the abuse really as bad as I claim it was?

The Alberta Crown Prosecutor came to the conclusion that 1-1/2 years of an 8 year old being sexually abused by a 14 year old was nothing more than “childhood curiosity and experimentation”.

Were there other reasons as to why I didn’t become addicted?

From 1989 until 1994 I was homeless in three provinces and I collected welfare in three provinces. I lived in my car in Ontario, and I lived in my car in Vancouver. I even used to sleep in the work shop of one of the places I had a “job”.

I lived in homeless shelters in Vancouver and in Toronto in the period of 1989 to 1994.

So I was the ripe candidate for drug use or even alcoholism.

But, somehow I avoided drugs and alcohol. And unfortunately this ended up being very detrimental to myself.

Another issue that has really fucked me over when it’s come to my believability is my almost complete lack of involvement with the mental health system.

The general belief is that you can’t have been sexually abused if you’ve never been locked up on a 72 hour hold in a psych ward.

If I was truly suffering from major depression, severe anxiety, and haphephobia then surely I’d be on heavy medications and I’d be a frequent flyer in the quiet rooms and the stabilization units.

But, I’m just a moody fucking asshole who worries about things too much and who freaks out for no reason when people touch him.

So to recap:
(no addictions) + (no evidence of self harm) + (no known suicide attempts) = NO SEXUAL ABUSE.

(Untreated mental illness) + ( 136 1/6 IQ) + ( functional employment ) =
LYING ASSHOLE.

The formula that I like the most is (Midazolam) + (Propofol) + ( Rocuronium) = No more suffering.

What does death feel like?

What does death feel like?

Nothing.

Death has no sensation as only a living brain can experience sensations.

What doesn’t death feel like?

Death doesn’t feel like betrayal.

Death doesn’t feel like depression

Death doesn’t feel like mental anguish.

Death doesn’t feel like neglect

Death doesn’t feel like suffering.

Death doesn’t feel like victim blaming.

Death doesn’t experience traumatic memories.

Being dead doesn’t mean that you miss out on anything, you have to be alive to miss out on things.

What happens after death?

Nothing.

No more suffering.

No more regret.

No more depression.

No more betrayal.

No more suffering.

No more traumatic memories.

Life only matters when you’re alive.

Once you’re dead, there is no further existence.

Of course, there will always be those that say that life is a gift and it’s so magical and wonderful.

My parents fucked and my father didn’t pull out in time and my mother wasn’t on the pill.

Yep, life is such a gift.

It’s always so much fun receiving life guidance from people who don’t even have a single scratch on their porcelain skin.

Why is society so afraid of death?

It means that they failed, not the person seeking death, but the hippy trippy dippy members of society who believe that life is some sort of magical paradise.

They need to downplay the suffering that people go through as otherwise they’d be forced to admit that some people are born with horseshoes up their asses while other people are fucked seven ways from Sunday the day that they’re born.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

I wonder if the Chief of Defence Staff and the Vice-Chief of Defence Staff
stop by for the birthday festivities.

Well, today marks my babysitter’s 60th birthday!

Happy birthday!

I don’t honestly know what he looks like now.

His younger brother and his older sister sure look happy for him though, eh?

And there’s the Canadian Armed Forces, still handling things for him all these years later.

I don’t know where his father is.

I wonder if the Vice Chief of Defence Staff or even the Chief of Defence Staff have sent him cards for his birthday.

Handling things for the babysitter and sealing the deal with a weird handshake
and a pat on the bum

If I sound a little sarcastic or a little bitter, that’s ’cause I am.

Not a word of a lie, but I had no birthday parties from the time my mother was ejected from the PMQ on CFB Summerside by my father in 1977 until my birthday in 1985. And that one was so that my father could butter my ass up just in case civilian social services found out about his destructive blow-out in the PMQ in August of 1985.

He promised that he would never ever forget my birthday again.

There was no birthday in 1986.

1987 was going to be my 16th birthday. He promised that he was going to sign me up for and help me with paying for driving classes with Young Driver’s of Canada. Nope. Changed his mind. Whose car would I be driving? Sure as fuck wasn’t going to drive his ’83 Mustang. If I thought that he was going to buy me a car I had another fucking thing coming. I should go speak to that cheap bitch mother of mine and she could pay for the driving lessons and then buy me a fucking car, what has she ever paid.

He sent me a $100.00 gift card for the Old Spaghetti Factory in September of 2006. This was due to the fact that I had chewed him out in August of 2006 for all of the shit related to CFB Namao and the aftermath of CFB Namao.

So yeah, from 1977 until the asshole’s death in 2017 I had 2 birthday acknowledgments and one attack on my mother. That 2 years out of 40.

Meanwhile the babysitter’s father loves him. Blames the military for the way his son turned out.

The babysitter’s sister lied for him.

The babysitter’s younger brother lied for him.

Fuck, even the Canadian Armed Forces were handling things for the babysitter.

But what the hell, it’s his birthday, Happy Birthday!