In a nutshell, they (whoever they are) go up to random people in NYC and ask them their story, so to speak. Well, today a homeless man shared his "story". Here it is (they haven't posted 3/3, btw)...
“My dad gave me up to the boys’ home when I was four. He told me that he was taking me fishing. He got the poles, the bait, everything. I was excited. He said he knew about a new spot. We pulled up to this huge building. He told me to wait in the car while he ran inside and got permission from his friend. Then he came back with two men. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but you have to stay here.’ I kept screaming: ‘I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!’ And he kept saying, ‘It ain’t you. It ain’t you. It ain’t you.’ I ripped his shirt off his back trying to keep him from leaving, and he drove off without a shirt.” (1/3)
“I was in the home for 13 years. It was a very abusive environment for everyone there. There were four staff members in particular that were especially bad. One of their favorite forms of punishment was the ‘full burn.’ First they’d make you take your clothes off and lay on the carpet. One of them would sit on your back, and the other one would pull you all the way down the hall. The worst was The Ice Man. If I saw him today, he’d be dead. He was like one of those guys you see in the movies, where even when he smiled, it was ice cold. He’d come in your room and tell you that you had a date with The Ice Man. Then he’d **** you and make you suck his dick. Then afterward, he’d tell you when your next date was going to be, just so you’d have to worry about it all week. Ten of us tried to escape when I was seventeen. I had a date with The Ice Man coming up so I figured I had nothing to lose.” (2/3)
Here's another "story" from a young woman...
“It got so bad that we started hiding our mother’s keys just to keep her from going to the crack house. My grandmother finally rescued us from her right before I went into middle school. When we got taken away, my mother really went off the deep end. We never heard from her. There was a lot of resentment from my side. It was an awkward age. And whenever there were events at school and my friends brought their parents, I’d get angry all over again. Things started to change when I was 15. I got a really bad case of the West Nile Virus and I almost died, and suddenly Mom got serious about rehab. She didn’t laugh it off anymore. She’d call and talk about the things she was learning in her counseling sessions. She’d tell me about the milestones she reached. She finally got clean and now we’re best friends. We talk every day. Out of all my siblings, I’ve been the most forgiving. I think it was easiest for me because I managed to separate the addiction from the person. Even with how bad it got, and with everything she put us through, there was never a moment that I doubted she loved us.”
Why do I post this stuff here? Perspective, people. Penn State Football (i.e., 18-22 year old kids) got BEAT by a Temple team. It happens. Give Temple credit and lets move forward.
“My dad gave me up to the boys’ home when I was four. He told me that he was taking me fishing. He got the poles, the bait, everything. I was excited. He said he knew about a new spot. We pulled up to this huge building. He told me to wait in the car while he ran inside and got permission from his friend. Then he came back with two men. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but you have to stay here.’ I kept screaming: ‘I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!’ And he kept saying, ‘It ain’t you. It ain’t you. It ain’t you.’ I ripped his shirt off his back trying to keep him from leaving, and he drove off without a shirt.” (1/3)
“I was in the home for 13 years. It was a very abusive environment for everyone there. There were four staff members in particular that were especially bad. One of their favorite forms of punishment was the ‘full burn.’ First they’d make you take your clothes off and lay on the carpet. One of them would sit on your back, and the other one would pull you all the way down the hall. The worst was The Ice Man. If I saw him today, he’d be dead. He was like one of those guys you see in the movies, where even when he smiled, it was ice cold. He’d come in your room and tell you that you had a date with The Ice Man. Then he’d **** you and make you suck his dick. Then afterward, he’d tell you when your next date was going to be, just so you’d have to worry about it all week. Ten of us tried to escape when I was seventeen. I had a date with The Ice Man coming up so I figured I had nothing to lose.” (2/3)
Here's another "story" from a young woman...
“It got so bad that we started hiding our mother’s keys just to keep her from going to the crack house. My grandmother finally rescued us from her right before I went into middle school. When we got taken away, my mother really went off the deep end. We never heard from her. There was a lot of resentment from my side. It was an awkward age. And whenever there were events at school and my friends brought their parents, I’d get angry all over again. Things started to change when I was 15. I got a really bad case of the West Nile Virus and I almost died, and suddenly Mom got serious about rehab. She didn’t laugh it off anymore. She’d call and talk about the things she was learning in her counseling sessions. She’d tell me about the milestones she reached. She finally got clean and now we’re best friends. We talk every day. Out of all my siblings, I’ve been the most forgiving. I think it was easiest for me because I managed to separate the addiction from the person. Even with how bad it got, and with everything she put us through, there was never a moment that I doubted she loved us.”
Why do I post this stuff here? Perspective, people. Penn State Football (i.e., 18-22 year old kids) got BEAT by a Temple team. It happens. Give Temple credit and lets move forward.
