1956, Pomona. John K. is purple in the face with yellow eyeballs, shivering in a hospital bed while hearing a football game broadcast coming from a water cooler.
He is the "depressive type," a lifelong crybaby who believes he was dealt a losing hand. From a childhood of "Stomp the Christmas Tree Night" to years as a merchant seaman smoking weed and shoving needles in his arm, John describes himself as an underachiever who majored in being a jackass. He spent years as a "horizontal drunk," drinking sweet wine and turpentine hydrate to put his problems to sleep.
After a failed suicide attempt and a $50 session with a psychiatrist who sat like a surfboard, John hit the bottom of the pits. He surrendered to a Higher Power and the "home of the dirty rats," trading his wreckage for a life where he can finally sleep and eat like a champ.
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