The Subtle Plea for Funds

Research and Illness are Expensive

Here at IRA, we like to ball out on a budget. Unfortunately, the budget is depleted, which is why we went behind a paywall recently instead of giving free content to 2,000 subscribers who don’t pay anything.

To those who are among the few, the proud, the 172 or so paying subscribers of IRA, thanks.

I’ll give you an example of my tendency to make it rain. When I was younger, making it rain was something I saw in music videos that rappers did in strip clubs. They would unband a bunch of singles and throw money up in the air over Cinnabons and Vanilla. That’s what I imagined those women were named. I was never close enough to one to get her actual or street name.

I’ve been to exactly two strip clubs in my life, and I was kicked out of one after throwing dimes at a stripper. Pro-tip: if you throw coins at a stripper, big men will use your head to open the door they throw you through. I don’t recommend it. The way of the transgressor is hard, and it was one of those times I heard God laughing at me, his favorite retarded son. Now, this was back in the early 2000s, when a dime was actually worth something, so that woman was completely unreasonable. I had a lot of dimes to throw, and it would’ve added up if she’d only allowed me to get through the rolls.

I digress, as I am wont to do. In my younger years, I was a fan of hedonism. I didn’t have a problem with God, just His so-called followers, and I used their moral failings to justify my own. It’s an easy religion to follow, which is why so many people do it. The fastest growing religion on the planet isn’t Islam; it’s hedonism, which is a form of self-worship that culminates in buying expensive degeneracy like rolls of dimes at banks down the street from 24 hour strip clubs and eight balls of cocaine. Eventually, through my own frugality, I found something I wanted more than hedonistic pleasures in wine, women, and drugs: a new guitar.

If it had not been for guitars in my twenties, I would be a billionaire. That’s what I tell myself, but guns were involved as well.

I got married, had a kid, got divorced, got remarried again and now I am the type of man who makes it rain in doctor’s offices. There is no achievement more dubious than hitting your annual out of pocket maximum in May. It’s how you know you’re doing middle age right. I’m an aspartame daddy, because all of my sugar has been depleted by my child and my wife and medical bills, and the only side chick I can afford is my chihuahua.

Even if I had the inclination to be like one of the degenerates I spend my time investigating and writing about, I don’t have the money or the physical functionality.

Today, I went to the emergency room with heart palpitations and the sort of nauseated chills in my torso that felt familiar from April 2022, when I had my heart attack. This was followed by a coronary artery bypass graft, or CABG (pronounced cabbage). In case you’re wondering, it’s as good as actual cabbage. Fortunately, I wasn’t having another heart attack, but what I have is potentially worse: a vascular condition whereby my arteries are breaking into their constituent parts in what are called dissections. Dissections aren’t just for high school biology labs, they’re for middle aged men, along with something called dilations, where your arteries become too widened.

My spine is also quite wrecked. I’ve got issues with discs impinging on nerve roots in both my thoracic and cervical spine, although my cervical spine is giving me more problems of late in the form of numbness down the outside of both arms. Fortunately, talk to text has gotten better, which has enabled me to write somewhat more than I otherwise would be able to given my issues.

Since I have kidney disease, getting another epidural from pain management is off of the table. The last time I had an epidural, my blood sugar went haywire and my kidney function dropped by 24 points to 35.

In simple terms, it’s been a year I hope to forget as senility approaches. All of this to say, IRA needs paying subscribers to keep going and I need revenue to keep paying for mounting medical expenses. If you can, I’d appreciate it if you’d subscribe or donate to @Jamin-Darcy on Venmo or over at https://investigationsinritualabuse.com.

Getting old sucks, but I’ve always been able to count on God to meet the promise of Matthew 6:28-33. I’ll always have what I need, and I have wife who loves me, a healthy happy kid who seems like a decent human being-I’m waiting for adolescence and my family genetics to change that-and a loyal dog. I have 172 people who pay to read my work on this site out of 2,137 subscribers. No matter what happens, I’ve lived a charmed life as the son of a Father who clearly has infinite grace and a sense of humor towards his most retarded children. I can honestly say I’ve never gotten what I deserved, and I am not complaining. I’ve gotten so much better than what I deserved.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for supporting us with subscriptions and donations. I’ll write until I die with whatever I have available to me, and I enjoy every second of landing punches on people who hurt children and vulnerable adults. We’re all dying the moment we’re born, but very few of us actually live. I lived, and I am alive. If you can’t donate or subscribe, I’ll gladly take prayers for healing and endurance.

Goel.