One of my childhood memories is being taken to an outdoor movie theater, Motor View, by an aunt and uncle, to watch the movie “Giant,” starring Rock Hudson, James Dean and Elizabeth Taylor. I was probably seven years old, and had no business watching that movie. It was incredibly boring, but I think aunt and uncle were charged with taking care of me for some reason, and they wanted to see the movie. I was just assigned back seat duties.
Yesterday I went to read the synopsis of the movie, and I couldn’t get through it. Bored again! The reason for my interest was having just read the last chapter of the book Virus Mania, titled Rock Hudson Gave “AIDS” A Face, and Virus Hunters Godlike Status. I’ve been reading this book off and on for a long time now, having to get away from it now and then because the crap that has gone down in the fields of epidemiology, medicine and virology is so ghastly dishonest and criminal. That they get away with their crimes with utter impunity makes reading about them tortuous. But I did it, got through it, knowing all along that the last chapter was about Rock Hudson.
My only experiences with Rock Hudson were Giant and a TV series called McMillan and Wife (1971-1977) where he played the Police Commissioner of San Francisco. My big draw was his costar, the “Wife”, Susan Saint James, who I thought was stunningly beautiful and charming. She and Hudson played off one another very nicely, almost comedic partners.
Hudson was gay, not unusual in Hollywood or even for a leading man, but at that time, scandalous. He was also, according to Virus Mania, a lifelong heavy drinker and smoker, and user of poppers, the drug popular among gay men for prolonging orgasms and loosening the sphincter to make anal intercourse more comfortable. Poppers, in case the reader is unfamiliar, often lead to Kaposi’s sarcoma, a skin cancer common among gay men who have AIDS. They were falsely marketed as room deodorizers.
I have long assumed, without any evidence whatsoever, that Hudson’s death was faked. I understood that the people behind the AIDS hoax needed some famous deaths, and Hudson, along with Arthur Ashe and Freddy Mercury fit the bill. I maintain that Mercury’s death was faked, and have never looked into the other two. But no, according to Virus Mania, it was real, and tragic. Hudson was already sick when he went to Paris in 1984 to be treated for AIDS using a drug called HPA-23, one that never went through clinical trials.
HPA-23 is highly toxic, usually producing the same symptoms (called “side effects,”) which Hudson endured. Among them were severe itching, rashes and Vincent’s disease, a painful gum disease . His teeth also loosened and impetigo ensued. Having had enough treatment, Hudson paid several hundred thousand dollars to be flown back to his home where he died, for real, on October 2, 1985. It is hard to contend that a man as ill as Hudson was in any way “murdered” by doctors, as he was on his way out anyway. But his treatment was barbaric.
AIDS, I’ll repeat even though most readers know it, is not a “disease”, but rather a “syndrome”. It is generally caused by self-abusive behaviors, as with Hudson, and by malnutrition, making it prominent in sub-Sahara Africa, and by hemophilia. People who die of AIDS usually fall victim to diseases for which their immune systems are too weak to resist, such as pneumonia, tuberculosis, Kaposi’s sarcoma, even salmonella. It is not a viral disease, not contagious, and not caused by HIV, which was introduced on the scene to scare the general population into having less sex and causing men and women to distrust one another. Are you sensing, like me, eugenicists behind the hoax?
Anyway, may he rest in peace. I am not writing this to critique his life or habits, as he paid a dear price, and I am not one to judge such matters.
By the way, Hudson is listed among our Bokonovsky “Brats,” products of some cloning process, most likely. I eventually settled with him in the Jack Nicholson group, as seen below.
What intrigues me most about these comparisons,even as I don’t always get perfect alignment, is the hairlines, which in the matches we have come across, are nearly always perfect. Hair – the hairline, part, waviness or straighter, is a genetic trait and seems to pass among the Brats without fail.
Which reminds me – at age 71, I still have most of my hair, only the sides turning grey. I no longer, however, have a forehead. Instead, I have a “fivehead.” Ahr ahr. As if my barber has not heard that one a thousand times.