Talk Cancer » Cancer Hospital » Drug-addicted, suicidal wino finds HOPE
Drug-addicted, suicidal wino finds HOPE
Question:
For those who cannot or do not read headers, please note that this thread was crossposted by evangout as follows: alt.suicide.holiday alt.support.depression alt.support.attn-deficit alt.drugs alt.music.nirvana soc.support.depression.crisis
And?
Response:
: Okay, you call this a TRUE STORY, but I did a little calculation on the : amount of wine that this guy is supposed to have consumed. : Well, I figure he would have been dead from alcohol poisoning if he : actually managed to DRINK 20 pints of wine in a single day. That is, : assuming that a drug addicted wino could manage to get sufficient money : to buy that much wine in the first place. : And if you start this Christian evangelical invitation with such a : whopping piece of exaggerated bullshit, what makes you think I’d believe : in the rest of your claims? : Tara Ballance : Montreal, Canada WON’T THESE XTIAN TROLLS EVER LEARN! Hey you! YES YOU! the xtian that didn’t shut up! Why don’t you go follow some of the precepts from your low seniority book and go commit genocide, or enslave someone, or be honest and say "follow my god or be killed". Wait! I can hear you now, you say "we don’t kill other religions anymore" SURE! of course you don’t, you only kill people with different political beliefs, or people that threaten business. If they happen to have a different religion, well , that’s ok. Isn’t it? Point to a poorly translated collection of myths and say this is what I live my life by so you have to also. BAH!! remember what your type has done so far? no? Well then I’ll remind you. The gregorian calendar. take something that needs a mnemonic to remember the subdivisions that’s only 500 or so years old. Based on measurements of time that are even older. Name some of the subdivisions on other gods.Then try to believe them when they say there is only one god. Days we are not allowed to work because the xtian heretic was (supposedly) born or died on these days. The media flooded by their "traditional" messages. celebrations for their heros at least one of whom almost succeeded at genocide. Or do you think patrick drove reptiles out of Ireland. Being subjected to their temple bells on their holy days (noise laws seem to be irrelevant). women being treated as inferior (at best) or brood mares otherwise. Treating some humans as special because of their geneology (royalty). Murdering followers of other gods to " save " the followers souls. Killing to protect monied interests. While at the same time using propaganda to try and make the majority believe that killing is OK. Not to mention the upcomming waste of power and trees to satisfy xtian traditions. You xtians have the inmitigated gall to tell people YOU HAVE TO LIVE I, and a lot of other people would rather die than continue to be subjected to xtian um,, stuff. So, xtian, do unto others lest the others start forcing their way into your space. — Who is arrogant enough to say that what billions of people believe(d),
Response:
I HATE THIS!! I FUCKING HATE THIS!!! look at the other newsgroups this was posted to….. what is AMN in it~??!! will u just let us go?!!! – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – A TRUE STORY written by Nancy Kennedy! Forty years ago, a drug-addicted wino dragged his 70-pound, filthy body onto a New York City subway bench to sleep off the effects of that day’s 20 pints of wine. His stomach, riddled with cancer, had swelled to resemble that of a pregnant woman. At 30, the man had already spent some 16 years on the streets. Death wish And so, with his body eaten with cancer and now beaten almost beyond recognition, Charlie waited for the train. He was tired of walking the streets and being abused. So when the train rolled in, Strider jumped in front of it to commit suicide. Find out how this drug-addicted, hopeless wino finds the HOPE he needs, and that is available to you too! <http://www.hhs.net/evangout
– Peace, Love, Empathy, Elvin
Response:
: A TRUE STORY written by Nancy Kennedy! [snip] For those who cannot or do not read headers, please note that this thread was crossposted by evangout as follows: alt.suicide.holiday alt.support.depression alt.support.attn-deficit alt.drugs alt.music.nirvana soc.support.depression.crisis
Response:
A TRUE STORY written by Nancy Kennedy! Forty years ago, a drug-addicted wino dragged his 70-pound, filthy body onto a New York City subway bench to sleep off the effects of that day’s 20 pints of wine. His stomach, riddled with cancer, had swelled to resemble that of a pregnant woman. At 30, the man had already spent some 16 years on the streets.
(snip the rest of this sob story) Okay, you call this a TRUE STORY, but I did a little calculation on the amount of wine that this guy is supposed to have consumed. Well, I figure he would have been dead from alcohol poisoning if he actually managed to DRINK 20 pints of wine in a single day. That is, assuming that a drug addicted wino could manage to get sufficient money to buy that much wine in the first place. And if you start this Christian evangelical invitation with such a whopping piece of exaggerated bullshit, what makes you think I’d believe in the rest of your claims? Tara Ballance Montreal, Canada – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Find out how this drug-addicted, hopeless wino finds the HOPE he needs, and that is available to you too! <http://www.hhs.net/evangout
Response:
A TRUE STORY written by Nancy Kennedy! Forty years ago, a drug-addicted wino dragged his 70-pound, filthy body onto a New York City subway bench to sleep off the effects of that day’s 20 pints of wine. His stomach, riddled with cancer, had swelled to resemble that of a pregnant woman. At 30, the man had already spent some 16 years on the streets. Although it wasn’t unusual for the man to suffer beatings and abuse by passersby, this day was different. This day the man suffered his last beating as a nameless, faceless derelict. As he slept, two men (who had been drinking and were looking for some fun) grabbed the man by his dirty shirt, stood him on his feet, and beat him umercifully, leaving the man to die in a pool of his own blood. Charlie Strider picks up the story: "I don’t know how long I lay there unconscious, but when I came to, I crawled into the men’s room, put my head in one of the old, dirty urinals to wash the blood off my face, then I passed out again." Hopeless desperation Around 5 in the morning, the dying Charlie Strider had had enough. He inched his way to the subway platform, and as he waited for the A train, he reviewed his sad, short life. "It seems every family has a black sheep," recalls Strider, "and that was me. My parents were good, moral people, and my father was a stern man who wanted to see his four sons amount to something. But I wouldn’t go to school, wouldn’t behave, and I caused so much trouble that my father put me out of the house when I was 12." The young Strider left his Columbus, Ohio, home and didn’t return until a year later. He hoped for a warm welcome, but, instead, his father put him right back out of the house. Disappointed and hurt, Strider left home again, not to see his mother for some 20 years. "When I left that time," he said, "I hopped a freight train to Chicago where I walked the streets with other boys and girls, robbing, stealing, and mugging. I got involved with alcohol and drugs. I got shot in both legs as a result of pushing drugs." Eventually Strider made his way to New York City, and to the Bowery, where homeless men wander aimlessly. For more than 3 years, Strider says, he existed in a numb stupor, as days drifted into months, then into years. He says a person in his condition eventually stops thinking altogether. As he explains it, in a city of some 8 million, nobody sees you, knows you, or cares if you live or die. On the morning when Strider waited for the A train, his body bloodied and beaten, not only did nobody care if he lived or died, he didn’t care any more. A few months earlier, he’d been given a death sentence by a doctor in a hospital emergency room. After wandering in because of painful, infected feet, a nurse, after taking one look at the swollen shell of a man, ran to get a wheelchair and whisked Strider onto an X-ray table. As he remembers it, that was the only time he’s ever seen a doctor cry. His X rays showed 10 holes in his stomach, each one the size of a quarter; he was in the final stages of cancer. The doctor gave him no more than 3 months to live. Death wish And so, with his body eaten with cancer and now beaten almost beyond recognition, Charlie waited for the train. He was tired of walking the streets and being abused. So when the train rolled in, Strider jumped in front of it to commit suicide. Find out how this drug-addicted, hopeless wino finds the HOPE he needs, and that is available to you too! <http://www.hhs.net/evangout
Response:
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