Oh also I forgot to add this before. He checked in on Saturday there. So he had already planned his trip there and everything before the show aired Sunday night.
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I am totally wanting to hear everyone's opinons on..
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My heart goes out to him & his loved ones. He had(has, I hope) amazing talent and yet we see (again & again) addiction doesn't discriminate. Shows how powerful & dark the depths of it can be. This is a total tragedy & also super fucked up how E! will most likely use it to their advantage in ratings in future episodes of The Kardashians.
Edited to add looks though still dependent on a breathing machine & all, he's showing some signs consciousness? Hope he pulls through somehow.
Edited to add looks though still dependent on a breathing machine & all, he's showing some signs consciousness? Hope he pulls through somehow.
CrazyCatLady
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Blaming her and stating a fact is 2 different things. If it is intrepeted as blame...well...maybe thats bevause there should be....is it her fault this happened? Eh. No. He chose to not to get help. But....They didn't have to slam him in the media. She decided to do that and that IS on her. You silence him with an NDA. Then drag him through the mud. Of course it won't come out that Klhoe got him addicted but I expect nothing less from this family.
He made these choices yes...but there is always blame somewhere along the line.
When my sister decided to shoot up the first time with my mom...that was on my mom. Has my sister decided to let her addiction ruin her....yes. But I'm sorry with most addictions there is blame somewhere along the line. When my sister was in a coma earlier this year did people blame my bio mom...yep. Was it justified...absolutely.
Nda's silenced Lamar. They can't however silence those closest to him. This is a fact...and I hope in his death that those people will no longer be scared to bring the truth to light.
Ps. Klhoe also got her brother addicted.
CrazyCatLady
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I'm not implying the episode caused him to go to the brothel. I am saying it triggered his od/suicide.
You should be telling that to the people who say Tinder, dating sites, or pornhub as the "better" alternative.
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@mutantdonut Haha actually I believe camsites should stop advertising as free or dating sites. It only leads to frustration for both models and members.
@CrazyCatLady I think she has every right to talk about him in the media. It's one way to try to get him help after many other failed attempts possibly. I dont see how stating facts of what he has and is doing as dragging him through the mud. It's his own behavior and actions and his choices.
How it could possibly be her fault that she got him addicted I dont get. His mother died of drugs. His father is currently a drug addict as well. His best friend died of drugs and another of his friends died a week after that. Blaming Khloe is just looking for an easy scapegoat just cause people dont like her. If you wanna blame someone blame who is truly at fault...Lamar. If you wanna go further blame his parents who put him around those things and in his life as well when he was born. Blame his friends who obviously also brought it around him. Blame those NBA players he was around who drug dabble as well before he met her. But blaming Khloe who hasnt brought drug use into his life makes no logical sense at all. Theres no connection there. That's like blaming me for the death of my friend in March when he ended up in a coma and died despite the fact I was never the one who did a single drug with him but just cause I was around him it MUST somehow be my fault. NO. Just NO. He was to blame and by extension the people who did it with him and around him. I get people hate this family but blaming them for someone being an addict when he was one before he ever even met them seems like a misguided thing to do.
How it could possibly be her fault that she got him addicted I dont get. His mother died of drugs. His father is currently a drug addict as well. His best friend died of drugs and another of his friends died a week after that. Blaming Khloe is just looking for an easy scapegoat just cause people dont like her. If you wanna blame someone blame who is truly at fault...Lamar. If you wanna go further blame his parents who put him around those things and in his life as well when he was born. Blame his friends who obviously also brought it around him. Blame those NBA players he was around who drug dabble as well before he met her. But blaming Khloe who hasnt brought drug use into his life makes no logical sense at all. Theres no connection there. That's like blaming me for the death of my friend in March when he ended up in a coma and died despite the fact I was never the one who did a single drug with him but just cause I was around him it MUST somehow be my fault. NO. Just NO. He was to blame and by extension the people who did it with him and around him. I get people hate this family but blaming them for someone being an addict when he was one before he ever even met them seems like a misguided thing to do.
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It's pretty dangerous to give any weight to the idea that an addict's drug use isn't their own responsibility. They ALWAYS have a story. It is ALWAYS someone else's fault. Usually, there are plenty of people willing to believe the story. Those people are called enablers. When my husband robbed me this summer and went on a drug binge, I kicked him out. I turned off his cards. I changed the pin numbers for mine. I changed my phone number, and I told him that any time he came to the house without putting himself in rehab, I would call the police. And I did. A lot. Then, I contacted everyone I could think of that he might go to for money and begged them not to give him any. Do you know what happened? He told him that his bitch wife doesn't love him, kicked him out and took all of his money. All but 1 person that I contacted gave him money. Addicts are good at lying. The person that they want you to believe hurt them is usually the person who is trying to help them or is sick of their shit. Unless we're talking about a baby birthed with addiction, an addict is responsible for their choices every time they use. They deserve help for their addiction, but they are the one using and the one hurting themselves.
Agree totally with Jicky & Teagan but also wanted to add that how their relationship is presented in the media is very likely not an accurate picture of what it's really like. We don't know what goes on behind closed doors so saying "she got him/his brother addicted" is recklessly speculative. I've never watched the show but even from the short increments I've seen online it's obviously super staged.
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As so many times with stories like this: there are probably thousands of people, men and women, in a similar situation fighting drugs and possibly overdosing that we just do not know about! Every day hundreds of people worldwide are taken to emergency rooms.. oft too late.
Drug use generally is a symptom of something deeper going on. It should perhaps be viewed as a condition instead of a crime.
Drug use generally is a symptom of something deeper going on. It should perhaps be viewed as a condition instead of a crime.
I have no opinion on this, and yes like the desperately board, insomniac, pressing the * key to register an undecided vote responding to a late night TV phone in poll, I too, am going to provide a bit of useless information in answering the questioned surveyed.
Other than, dude is a pro jock of some sort, all I know is from the pat headline used here, 'Dude found unconscious at brothel' which did not originally, and has not since, persuaded me that I should give any fraction of a fuck to know more. (And, I guess it is his pro jock status that makes this a news worthy event, while no doubt scores of poor, enslaved, blue collar bastards turn up monthly in similar circumstances?)
So here's me pressing the * key; Brothels are full of temptation, smoke, and mirrors. Or, that's how it felt 31 years ago, to this 21 year old kid. In Austin TX. for school, I had left my GF, in California to finish her senior year HS. I would fly her down right after graduation, and we would start our life together.
It had been 6 weeks, but felt like forever. Even a casual hook up at a bar was more intimacy than I would trust myself with. It seemed the drive to fuck something, anything, grew stronger by the hour. Thinking a few hours and $50 spent at a titty bar would somehow ease my constant want to fuck something, was a mistake, and clear indication that hormones, not logic were at the wheel. I called a few massage parlors to get some quotes, and compare services, but they don't do that over the phone, so I picked one close with a nice Yellow page ad.
Inside, I was directed to a menu of rates painted on a hanging sign above the front counter. I was told to pick one, then I could pick one of the girls that were just then coming into the dim lit parlor, from a more dimly lite hall off to one side.I can still see that menu, and remember the reasoning behind my choice. The choices were $20.00 for 15 minutes, $25 for 20, $35 for 1/2 hour, and $45 for 45. A buck a minute seemed fair, and I was as lonely, as horny, so the 45/45 rate would leave me with 35-40 minutes to talk.
Fast forward to an outline of the rest of the night's important events. It all happened rather fast as the night sped quickly down hill and out of control. Here's what I remember clearly, or at all.
My chosen girl explains I bought room time, nothing more.
I have only enough $ to buy a hand job, or 5 preludes, (Not Quaaludes - preludes the pill, not the car, I asked.)
I left out the back door with 2 ludes, and enough $ for a few drinks at the bar down the street.
I order the third and forth shot of tequila.
I remember rushing away from the nu-responsive back door of the brothel, when puking became more urgent than getting in to fuck someone.
Sitting on the ground, legs sprawled in a V, back up against the brothel, I woke a couple times to watch someone leaving by the back door, or to lean forward and spew some more between my legs.
Trying to verbalize directions back to my place to a lady driving me home, and only being able to point the way.
I was on the phone with the police the next morning reporting my car stolen when whisps of something started blinking on. That told me maybe there was some other reason my RX-7 was absent.
It took a few hours, and some grid pattern bicycle riding before I located my car parked near the bar where I had left it.
I never did figure out who the lady was, or how I got in her car. I don't know why I did not find myself in jail, or how I had sense enough to walk, when walking prolly was not the easiest thing to do right then.
It could have been so much worse, in many ways. Not the least of which might have been, that had I been a little bigger, and a whole lot faster, I might have been signed to a pro contract as a upshot tight end somewhere, and already trying to be mature beyond my circumstances, to have my confusion raised even more, with the eyes and opinions of the whole world on me, and all because I was trying to get fucked with out making a big deal of it.
Other than, dude is a pro jock of some sort, all I know is from the pat headline used here, 'Dude found unconscious at brothel' which did not originally, and has not since, persuaded me that I should give any fraction of a fuck to know more. (And, I guess it is his pro jock status that makes this a news worthy event, while no doubt scores of poor, enslaved, blue collar bastards turn up monthly in similar circumstances?)
So here's me pressing the * key; Brothels are full of temptation, smoke, and mirrors. Or, that's how it felt 31 years ago, to this 21 year old kid. In Austin TX. for school, I had left my GF, in California to finish her senior year HS. I would fly her down right after graduation, and we would start our life together.
It had been 6 weeks, but felt like forever. Even a casual hook up at a bar was more intimacy than I would trust myself with. It seemed the drive to fuck something, anything, grew stronger by the hour. Thinking a few hours and $50 spent at a titty bar would somehow ease my constant want to fuck something, was a mistake, and clear indication that hormones, not logic were at the wheel. I called a few massage parlors to get some quotes, and compare services, but they don't do that over the phone, so I picked one close with a nice Yellow page ad.
Inside, I was directed to a menu of rates painted on a hanging sign above the front counter. I was told to pick one, then I could pick one of the girls that were just then coming into the dim lit parlor, from a more dimly lite hall off to one side.I can still see that menu, and remember the reasoning behind my choice. The choices were $20.00 for 15 minutes, $25 for 20, $35 for 1/2 hour, and $45 for 45. A buck a minute seemed fair, and I was as lonely, as horny, so the 45/45 rate would leave me with 35-40 minutes to talk.
Fast forward to an outline of the rest of the night's important events. It all happened rather fast as the night sped quickly down hill and out of control. Here's what I remember clearly, or at all.
My chosen girl explains I bought room time, nothing more.
I have only enough $ to buy a hand job, or 5 preludes, (Not Quaaludes - preludes the pill, not the car, I asked.)
I left out the back door with 2 ludes, and enough $ for a few drinks at the bar down the street.
I order the third and forth shot of tequila.
I remember rushing away from the nu-responsive back door of the brothel, when puking became more urgent than getting in to fuck someone.
Sitting on the ground, legs sprawled in a V, back up against the brothel, I woke a couple times to watch someone leaving by the back door, or to lean forward and spew some more between my legs.
Trying to verbalize directions back to my place to a lady driving me home, and only being able to point the way.
I was on the phone with the police the next morning reporting my car stolen when whisps of something started blinking on. That told me maybe there was some other reason my RX-7 was absent.
It took a few hours, and some grid pattern bicycle riding before I located my car parked near the bar where I had left it.
I never did figure out who the lady was, or how I got in her car. I don't know why I did not find myself in jail, or how I had sense enough to walk, when walking prolly was not the easiest thing to do right then.
It could have been so much worse, in many ways. Not the least of which might have been, that had I been a little bigger, and a whole lot faster, I might have been signed to a pro contract as a upshot tight end somewhere, and already trying to be mature beyond my circumstances, to have my confusion raised even more, with the eyes and opinions of the whole world on me, and all because I was trying to get fucked with out making a big deal of it.
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