"he who does not move, does not feel his chains." -- Rosa Luxembourg (blog restoration in progress ... 103 posts to go)

Tag: VPC

"How do you get one?"

“And for newcomers in their first thirty days, we have a white DUNCE KEYTAG!”

“How do you get one?”

“All you have to do is suck on a pipe, bitch! I’ll leave one up here on the box in case you’re shy or don’t like me and don’t want to hug me, or you just like to steal things!”

Orange was Right

2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> June 07, 2019
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> Someone who believes in me
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> Page 165
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> Just for today, I will have faith in someone in NA who believes in me and wants to help me in my recovery.
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> Basic Text, p. 100
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> Not all of us arrive in NA and automatically stay clean. But if we keep coming back, we find in Narcotics Anonymous the support we need for our recovery. Staying clean is easier when we have someone who believes in us even when we don’t believe in ourselves.Even the most frequent relapser in NA usually has one staunch supporter who is always there,
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT>  no matter what. It is imperative that we find that one person or group of people who believes in us. When we ask them if we will ever get clean, they will always replay, Yes, you can and you will. Just keep coming back!We all need someone who believes in us, especially when we can’t believe in ourselves. When we relapse, we undermine our already s
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> hattered self-confidence, sometimes so badly that we begin to feel utterly hopeless. At such times, we need the support of our loyal NA friends. They tell us that this can be our last relapse. They know from experience that if we keep coming to meetings,we will eventually get clean and stay clean.It’s hard for many of us to believe in ourselves. Bu
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> t when someone loves us unconditionally, offering support no matter how many times we’ve relapsed, recovery in NA becomes a little more real for us.
2:25 PM <JFT_BOT> Just for Today: I will find someone who believes in me. I will believe in them.

2:27 PM <robert> And what if none of them believe in you or want to help you
2:28 PM <robert> What if they’re like don’t sponsor him
2:28 PM <robert> Stay away he’s crazy
2:28 PM <CleanBill> what if frogs could fly??
2:28 PM <CleanBill> if frogs could fly they be screwing all the birds
2:29 PM <robert> Must be nice being dumber than a cocker spaniel
2:29 PM <robert>

2:30 PM <Susie> hmm are you calling us retards ?
2:30 PM <robert> Just cleanbill

Rat City

I’ve always loved rat-related anecdotes.

I love how rats try to free one another from a trap.

I’ve heard something about the rat who would pull a lever to administer drugs over and over and over until it died.

And I went, “well, fuck, that’s kind of bleak.”

I didn’t know the other part of the story about Rat City, where they took the same rats and gave them a space that was 200 times larger than their previous cage.

They were given toys to play with and plenty of treats and food and other rats to socialize and places to nest and raise their young.

Only 5% or so of the rats continued to pull the lever after that.

Given the choice between regular water and drug laced water, most chose the regular water after that.

I was like “how have I never heard this?”

One of my classmates snorted and said “too expensive, no one wants to hear about this or come up with the money for it. It got buried and that’s all anyone ever heard about Rat City.”

I got to thinking the chatroom’s kind of like Rat City: Take a bunch of neurotic and isolated rats sitting at home and yanking on their dope levers and give them others to socialize with.. and a hunt game and some macros to play with, and bam. Some of them stopped yanking on the lever.

Some of them remain behind and continue to try to free the other rats from their traps.

It’s a far cry from addressing other psychosocial needs or getting people out of survival mode though.

I wish we had a version of Rat City that wasn’t wedded with NA kool-aid and abusive fucked up steppers.

Because I don’t think Rat City would have been so successful if you had introduced the aforementioned rat into a cage full of other rats that were bullies.

Update 9/20/2022: I’m going to leave that bullshit as-is but here, two anons dish on the real ”rat city” / “rat utopia” story:


I received permission to write about this. 

The story is better than this, but the only person whose whole process I am at liberty to put out there on this page is my own.


She came into the room with the name “oxygen waster.”

I shouldn’t have laughed at it.

Because she kind of meant business.

But I did laugh.

I saw other people do the same thing: 


She was confused: Why is that so god damned funny to everyone? 

Because we’ve all felt like that before.

She explained that she got it from a band.

Not everyone comes back.

But she came back.

And then she came back again.

It only took a couple of days before the chat robot offered another animal in the hunting game.

Somebody typed !axe

I don’t even know what the bot says anymore. Something like: “Whoop whoop! [your] hatchet swings right and left, [you] have massacred a [$animal]. This juggalo killer has smoked X animals.”

The new arrival has a question: “wait, which one of you is the juggalo?”

The near 40-year-old with a hatchet girl tattoo who wrote the website with the aforementioned juggalo Easter egg.



And when she said we made her cry and want to live,

I cried too.

Maybe other people leave this place with hope,

But I’m not usually one of them.

Day 1 Activation

I had a dream we were going to build another website again for some reason.

And you were there,
And you were there,
And (you) were there.

Excitedly, we raced around town in a sedan from one member’s door to another to whisper the news and get them into the car.

I began to reload a Linux operating system on a system and I watched the dots flash across the screen ………………………………

We hurried off to Ashlyn’s house.

She wasn’t home.

Well, we’d better not tell her now anyway,

She might not understand or support this.

(Okay, let’s go.)

There are already seven of us ready.

Isn’t that enough?

(Why yes, I reckon that it is.)

Is she on board?

(Uh-huh. She’s using a new nickname and pretending she’s new.)

Is he on board?

(Uh-huh. Him too.)

What about her?

(No. She’s already on another site.)

What’s her excuse? I’m on about five of them that I cycle through all day long.

Things were going so well, I turned to one of them and said “You’ve never been here to see a day one activation, have you?”

She got really quiet.

I went back upstairs to resume my work.

Two of the others came upstairs looking for me and they seemed quite alarmed.

(“Day one activation.”)

(Why did he say that?)

(How does he know what that is?)

“You need to go to the hospital right now.”


“Our movements have torn a hole through you.”


“Go downstairs. Right Now. We’re not kidding, we called an ambulance and they’re on the way. You have to go.”

(I was confused but I agreed.)

I got to the bottom of the stairs and saw the flashing lights outside of the front door.

(I opened the door.)

“Is this him?”

(Hm, I don’t feel so good. I held on to my stomach.)

I noticed the trail of blood and I blacked out.


12:22 AM <Robin_Y> when you are young they want to peek in your pussy
12:31 AM <misterpickles> When you’re 21, you’re no fun

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

2:01 PM <Robin_Y> * mould ([email protected]) has joined #nachatroom

2:01 PM <Robin_Y> <mould> what about sex magic?

2:01 PM <Robin_Y> <mould> how do i do it?

2:23 PM <Robin_Y> im not sure hes here for the right things

5:46 PM <misterpickles> I’d prefer to punish him by having him date one of the women here instead of banning him

Texas in my Rear [view mirror]

Seven months and another transmission rebuild later, I’m reunited with my car. 
I went to my old home group in Austin. The only people really left were the ones I had been closest to. 
They had welcomed a stranger and been kind to me. 
Sometimes the winners and the losers aren’t who they say they are or who they are said to be.
I forgot about that sweet spot at about 79MPH when the whole car has this weird industrial sounding hum. 
I lock into that sound and resonate with it. It’s pleasant for some reason.
I am sitting in the nuclear reactor.
Click, set, go.
I drove through all the hues of Texas and watched the lightning lick across a wide open desert sky for hundreds of miles late last night. 
It was neat. If I could be anywhere right now this is exactly where I’d like to be.


I had a dream that Tommy (one of our moderators who passed away unexpectedly on Friday) had left a scrapbook behind.

I went to retrieve it.

It was a big scrapbook with a rough red cover and big thick cream colored pages.

I flipped through the pages but I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.

Tommy was in the room with me. He explained to me that it was “character development.”


I blew up in my last session because we’ve taken four weeks to go over a chapter and it’s a non-TSF curriculum that the “facilitator” brought back to pithy NA platitudes and cliches about praying and turning it over to your higher power.
I was like “where does it say anything about that in this chapter?” and I asked her if she was actually qualified to conduct these sessions or if she was just a 12-step plant, because I can go hear this shit at NA for free. 
In fact, I have been hearing this shit at NA for the last 10 years and here I am.
She emailed my therapist and said she thinks I’m loaded.
I snorted and said “See? I told you she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well the others are, clinicians and therapists and stuff. She’s a junkie spouting NA drivel.”
His eyes bugged out.
I was like, “y’all can have my piss, my hair, my blood, my breath, my fingernails, whatever.”
“No, that’s okay, I believe you.”
I told him exactly what I’d said in group.
“Oh, she didn’t say any of that in her e-mail.”
“Meh. She probably can’t spell platitudes.”


I dreamt that I was being pursued down a staircase that went down endlessly in a spiral.

There was no escaping whatever was chasing me.

The staircase was dark.

There was no end in sight.

I ran.

And I ran.

And I ran.

And whatever I was running from was only a few inches away from nipping at my heels.

I gave up. 

I got down on my knees and said the “serenity prayer.”

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

The courage to change the things I can.

And the wisdom to know the difference.

I heard a voice telling me “Welcome home” just before I woke up safe in bed.