Part of Chapter 2 of Adam's Book...he has some GREAT STUFF in there!

Chapter 2

LEMONADE WITH THE LAWN BOY

It was hot that Friday afternoon when she rolled up in a white Mercedes SL convertible –– a sleek and roaring 12 cylinder with a crisp white leather interior that smelled strongly of money. She emerged, wearing head to toe white. I’d never seen anything like it. Skin-tight white jeans, fitted white sweater, white sandals, and oversized white sunglasses. She even had a white rhinestone belt around her waist. Sandie Tillotson looked like a female Liberace. “Mmmm...” she purred, looking down her nose over her sunglasses. “This looks even better than a Coke commercial.” I could feel her eyes roaming over every inch of my darkly tanned, sweaty body. She was cold, calculating, almost reptilian –– like a boa constrictor looking to devour its next meal.

All of a sudden I was 14 years old again, only this time I knew what that look meant. This wasn’t the first time I’d been chased by an older woman, and I liked being pursued. My body was ripped and sweaty from swinging a pick, and I knew I looked hot. “Why don’t you drive my car?” sheinsisted, as she winked and tossed me the keys. I had never been in a car worth $150,000, and I was surprised at how nonchalantly she offered her expensive possession up, especially since I was covered in dirt from digging sprinkler trenches.

“I made reservations at the Market Street Broiler” she said, the most expensive restaurant in the area. I started sweating nervously as we pulled up, knowing I only had $50 in my pocket. We sat outside on the patio, and it wasn’t long before I felt like I was being interrogated by the CIA. She wanted to know everything about me. I knew I’d passed her qualifying round when I realized we had similar hobbies –– scuba diving, horses, travelling, motorcycles, sex.

This was the first time I’d gotten a good look at her. I was distracted as she playfully fingered the neckline of her sweater, drawing my eyes down to her rock-hard fake breasts. Her nails were long and hot pink, the skin on her hands was thin and spotty, much more aged than her face. I noticed her hair, bleached blonde with dark roots, teased, coiffed, and sprayed. Long, wispy bangs hid most of her heavily made up face –– dark black eyebrows, blue glassy wide-set eyes, and a square jaw. I thought, this woman was probably really hot 30 years ago.

Please Send Adam an Email to Buy his BOOK!!

My friend Adam has asked that I post this to everyone out there: please send him an email at info@formerlyfilthyrich.com or formerlyfilthyrich@yahoo.com and he will let you know where to buy a book. Nu Skin has done a splendid job at taking this book off of every website and service that Adam has attempted to sell it. Is NuSkin the new Nazi Germany?

Nu Skin has attempted a coverup of a book that tells the truth about one of its infamous founders. Is it AT ALL constitutional to extinguish a person's first amendment rights to the point where they can't even tell their story?

What if their story is so shocking that if it is revealed, it would threaten the foundation of the company?

Why would Nu Skin spend so much time and money having their attorneys disable every website, link, press release, blog, Facebook page, and websites where the book was for sale?

If the book WASN'T TRUE, Nu Skin would not waste their time.

Is it really possible to completely erase the footprint that a brave and courageous man has made out in cyberspace by telling the sad story about what was done to his son?

Ask Nu Skin - apparently, it IS possible to completely erase all signs that this book ever existed and was ever for sale. All you need is money. Don't want the truth out there? Pay some crooked attorney - thugs at Cohne, Rappaport and Segal in Salt Lake City to take care of it.

http://www.examiner.com/conservative-in-san-francisco/book-burning-america-a-tale-of-nu-skin

Please visit Adam's website (if it's still up!) and give him your support!

www.formerlyfilthyrich.com

More interesting links (people are talking Nu Skin):

http://exmormon.org/phorum/read.php?2,328324

Evictions at Christmas - A Favorite Holiday Pastime

A story I'll never forget (oh, how my memory bank is full to the brim of these) was a particularly chilling tale I heard Sandie tell once at a cocktail party.

After a few glasses of wine, and who knows what else, the conversation would get flowing and someone who didn't know Sandie very well would often ask how she "got her start."

Sandie relished this moment, as it came often, and I've heard as many versions from her "spieling" lips as I have hairs on my head... but only one version of the story chilled me to the core like this version did.

She likes to credit herself with inventing the "save the paupers from foreclosure" scam before the foreclosure crisis even came about.

She would get a list from her banker of homes that were in pre-foreclosure. She would meet with the families, and tell them that they could sign over the home to her, and she would bring all the payments current, and then all they needed to do was pay her "rent" to stay in their home. The best part was, once they got back on their feet, they could refinance and buy it back from her.

To a family about to lose their home, there was no downside! How could there be? This nice lady is offering to help, and bringing everything current! We can even buy the home back when we are ready!

Papers were already drawn up, and 99% of the time she left that initial meeting with a signed agreement. For some reason no one ever seemed to question or read the "paperwork" too carefully...if they had, they would realize that they had just signed over their home to the most unforgiving, heartless landlord they could ever imagine. One day late on your rent? You're gone.

This was all completely legal, of course, in fact Sandie thought the story was quite funny. After all, these people were the "idiots" who naively signed the papers without reading the details of the contract.

She would then proceed to tell the group of people at the party about how her favorite moment in real estate was when she evicted a single mother with five kids from her home on Christmas Eve.

Yes, Christmas Eve.

She laughs again, recounting the story about how the Sheriff asked the woman to leave, and the woman threw an "absolute fit" about having to leave without enough time to pack any of their belongings. Of course, she had a tree with presents under it and five kids to pack up - but, this was of little consequence to Sandie, because in an eviction, the Sheriff only has to give you FIFTEEN minutes to pack it all up!

So to make a point, the woman comes tromping out into the snow without any shoes on, then orders all of the kids to take their shoes off too as they walk to the car. "See kids, this woman doesn't even want us to leave with SHOES on our feet!"

Sandie would then laugh devilishly, as if this were the funniest thing she'd ever seen. I wondered if her poofy bleach blond hair was covering a set of horns.

I never found this story funny. In fact, there is NOTHING FUNNY AT ALL about evicting anyone, and especially, evicting a SINGLE MOTHER and her FIVE KIDS on Christmas Eve!

What kind of a person could actually do such a thing? Do you think Sandie went back up to her 10,000 square foot house on the hill and even gave this poor family a second thought? Or, maybe she was spending Christmas up at her $15 million dollar estate up in Deer Valley.

Either way, was I the ONLY person who was sickened by this story? I guess evictions on Christmas Eve are a Tillotson family pastime. So much for Secret Santa and Caroling!

The "HEWY" Story

I’ve been friends with Adam all my life, and I know he can get you in some pretty dicey situations. We’ve gone skydiving, raced motorcycles, raced pro trucks, flown helicopters and MIG trainers, zip lined in Costa Rica – you name it, we’ve done it.

Adam is a great guy with a big heart and only one flaw — he is TOO nice to people and TOO trusting and generous. This flaw is what got him trapped in the black widow’s web…let’s call her “Sandie.”

Being the simple and straightforward guy he was, Adam went through the entire relationship like he was in the front seat of a roller coaster that never came to a stop. He had no control of anything whatsoever, he was just there for the ride. The person controlling the roller coaster in the rusty cage down beneath was Sandie, of course. Everything was reward / punishment. Sandie often joked that training a “man” was a lot like training a “horse”. Reward them when they are good, and punish them quickly and severely when they make a mistake...or step out of line.

The black widow drew him into her web quick, and once he was tangled, he couldn’t get out. She wouldn’t let him out. Not without nailing his ass to the ground and sucking him dry. No one gets of a relationship with Sandie unscathed. No one.

This rule also applies to friends and acquaintances. Once their separation became “public”, friends quickly started taking sides, and anyone who chose Adam’s side (obviously the less lucrative of the two positions) would pay, and pay dearly.

One such friend, let’s call him “Hewy”, happened to be the recipient of a very generous gift from Adam: a brand new yellow convertible Corvette.

Every time Adam would drive the Corvette down to his airplane hangar, Hewy, Adam’s flight instructor, would remark on how much he liked the car. Eventually he asked if he could drive it, and he and Adam went tearing up the canyon on a joyride. Adam knew a guy like Hewy would love nothing more than to own a car like that.

One day Adam called me up and said “Hey, I need you to follow me down to my hangar.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I am giving Hewy my Corvette today, I need a ride back.”

Since I’d known Adam all his life, this was a completely normal occurrence and nothing out of the ordinary. He’d given us all extravagant gifts before – all expenses paid vacations, expensive watches, you name it.

This gift, however, would be a gift Hewy wished he would never have accepted.

A couple of months after Adam gave Hewy the Corvette, the divorce we called “war of the roses on steroids” was in FULL swing, and Sandie had mobilized her thugs all over town. Her favorite thugs, of course, were the slimy attorney’s from Cohne, Rappaport and Segal, and these guys were an entire team of tough-talking assholes who descended on all of Adam’s friends and family to threaten them all with baseless lies and mafia-style intimidation tactics.

Once the roaches at Cohne Rappaport (Dena Sarandos and David Dolowitz) got wind that poor Hewy held the title to Adam’s Corvette, they descended mercilessly upon Hewy (at work!) and demanded he give the car back to Sandie immediately.

Hewy stood his ground, and insisted that the car had been a gift from Adam, and that it was his to keep. Adam gave him the gift before the divorce was even filed….therefore, none of the nonsense that was going on mattered at all.

Standing his ground was the RIGHT thing to do….but it was a decision that would cost him TWO YEARS of his life fighting with SANDIE TILLOTSON, the BILLIONAIRE, in a court in Utah County, over an asset that was only worth $30,000! That had been a gift! That had belonged to Adam!

To put it in perspective, for the rest of us 99%, it would be the equivalent of spending two years in court fighting over a gift from the DOLLAR STORE. 

WHY? Why would someone like Sandie Tillotson waste her time and money fighting an honest, hardworking guy like Hewy for a GIFT he got? Did Sandie not have enough cars in her fleet, she had to go fight and harass a normal everyday guy in court for TWO YEARS and add all that stress to his life and his marriage, over something as meaningless as a Corvette?

Well that’s just it – Sandie Tillotson’s greed and megalomania and desire to hurt people knows no bounds. Sandie will do whatever it takes to ensure that what Sandie wants, Sandie will get, even if it means destroying other people and entire families in the process.

Car Kicking in Kuala Lumpur - rescued blog #5

We flew into Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on a commercial flight, first class, to attend one of the NuSkin international conventions. The conventions were a rah-rah show, a way for the company’s executives to travel the world and get the sales force fired up about selling face cream and vitamins and Normally we’d fly on the corporate jet, but it wasn’t available for some reason or other, and we had to make do with wide leather seats, cute flight attendants, and champagne courtesy of Singapore Airlines. Life at the top was rough, sometimes.

The reception at the airport wasn’t quite what I expected. Sandie said we’d have a limousine waiting for us, and I expected a nice Mercedes S500 or something of the sort. Well, a Benz was on hand, an armored stretch job that could seat eight and luxuriously whisk the occupants along without any intrusion from the outside world. To make the ride to the hotel even more care free, the authorities had provided a police escort speed the way and to keep the peasants at a safe distance. It took a while to load the luggage into the car –Sandie never travelled light-- we got into the car for the ride to the hotel, with one police motorcycle leading the way and another following.

We were settled into back of the car, relaxing after the long flight, when the car slowed to a crawl. I lifted my head to look out the windshield to see what was slowing us down. As I did I saw the cop on the motorcycle ahead of us pull level to the car in front of us, and kick the window of the car with his boot. He kept kicking, and screaming at the driver, until the car pulled toward the shoulder of the road. The cop repeated the scene with each car in front of us, kicking at doors and windows and shouting at the drivers, until he’d cleared a path for the limousine. When the path was cleared, we rode along like Moses through the Red Sea. 

The next day, the same two cops appeared to escort us to the convention center, with more kicking and screaming at cars. We had to tell them not to do that at the convention center, because the cars at the center were NuSkin’s distributors, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to treat them like riff-raff. At least so openly.

How I Went From Exotic Dancer to Trophy Husband - blog 4!!

Like a lot of guys, I was a scrawny little kid, and my sisters were always picking on me. And since there were five of them, that made growing up a bit difficult. I got tired of the abuse, and when I reached my teens, decided that to start lifting weights. I started out with those cheap concrete weights, the kind you buy at Kmart or Sears.  They were cheap, but they worked, and after a few months I started feeling really good about myself, and my sisters stopped picking on me. Working out with weights became a daily habit for me. The cheap-o concrete weights were replaced by better sets, and after a few years I was ready to move on to a gym. After all, there’s only so much you can do at home.

The place was called Lifestyles 2000, I think, and I was worked out there on a regular basis all through my teen years and even after I was married and we had kids. I became friends with another guy who trained there, and one day he said to me “Hey I think you’ve got a look that I think would sell. Would you be interested in a part time job?” Well that got my attention, because I had kids and I needed some part time income. My wife at the time wasn’t working, and I was working a couple of jobs to make ends meet, and it was pretty tough at times.

Now it turned out that this guy was an exotic dancer, although I didn’t know that until later. “You could make $200 to $300 an hour” he told me. That was serious money, and he really had my interest. I wondered what I had to do. He told me to meet me at this bar in Provo (Utah).

So I met him down there one night, and I find out that there’s about fifty girls in line waiting to get into this bar. He told me that all I had to do was jump around on the stage in my underwear, and I’d get $150 for the night plus whatever tips the girls gave me. Now it really wasn’t that big a deal for me, and I wasn’t afraid to get on stage, since I used to perform in the ice show with my sisters. Actually the jumping around seemed kind of silly, but the money was good. So I gave it a shot.

It was quite a rush the first couple of times, and the adrenaline was pumping. I’m trying to be masculine, but here I am in my underwear, with everybody in the bar looking at me and judging me, with this music blaring. It’s like one of those dreams were you’re walking around and everyone’s looking at you, and you realize you don’t have anything on.  Now I’d raced motorcycles, which is also a great adrenaline rush, and pretty scary as well. But I had to pay for that, and it wasn’t cheap. It probably cost about a thousand dollars for a weekend, for tires and fuel and parts and such.

 So now by dancing around in my underwear, I get the adrenaline rush, and I get paid for it. Well I thought that this was a pretty good deal, and I was making three or four hundred dollars a night at the club.

Soon I was doing private bachelorette parties for girls, and I was doing a couple of parties a night every weekend, and with tips I was pulling in about two grand a weekend. That was about what I made a month in my part time jobs. Now I made a lot of money doing this. So much that I did it for about eight years. And that’s where I met my next wife, Sandie Tillotson, the billionaire founder of NuSkin.

Steal only the Best - rescued blog #3!

Steal only the best

There’s a story I ran across in the New York Post the other day. I don’t normally read the Post, and I especially don’t read the fashion section, where I saw this story. But I spent some time living in the AOL Time Warner Building, as well as Trump Tower, so every once in a while I take a peek at the Post to find out what’s happening in the Big Apple. It seems that a trendy jewelry designer, name of Alexis Bittar, has refused to lend any more jewelry to Kim Kardashian, claiming that Kardashian is ripping off the designs for her own design label, Belle Noel, and producing look-alike jewelry. For the record, Belle Noel denies the charge. But the story is interesting, in that Kardashian has sued Old Navy for using a model who looked like her in its advertising. You know, a look-alike.

Now there are a few things that jump out when you think about the story. The first one, of course, is this: Kardashian has to borrow jewelry? Is she maxed out on her credit cards, a bit low on the mad money? Should we pass the hat and take up a collection, or maybe hold a benefit concert for her? If she’s going to rip the designs off, the least she could do is buy a piece or two, she doesn’t have to do an intellectual Lindsay Lohan. Now I know it’s common for designers to lend items out to stars to get the publicity of a star wearing their designs. But really, a nice set of earrings from Bittar is only going to set her back about $300.  I’m sure Kim could come up with it.

Now the second thought that came to me when I read the piece (Iced Out) is how it reminded me of the woman I was married to for a number of years, and how incredibly cheap she was. Her name was Sandie Tillotson, and she is one of the founders of NuSkin and worth well north of a billion dollars. Yes, capital B, billion. Nine zeros.

Sandie and I were in New York City at our apartment at the Trump Tower after spending a couple of weeks in Italy, and we decided to get out and do some shopping. Even though we’d only been back for a day or two I was feeling claustrophobic, and I could see from our picture window that is was a beautiful New York Day, bright and sunny with just enough of breeze to keep the air crisp and clean. I grabbed my camera on the way out so I could take some snapshots.  We walked along Fifth Avenue, enjoying the day, and as we passed Tiffany’s, I said to Sandie that we should go in, since I was looking for a watch. She hooked her arm in mine and pulled me away from the window, and said she had a better idea.

We walked down the street to Van Cleef & Arpels, the luxury French jewelry house, and went in. Sandie went right for the diamond rings, and had the salesman take a few from the case so she could try them on.  She did the same with a couple of necklaces, and each time she tried one on, she’d coo and ask me if it looked good on her. I thought they looked great, as well they should for their five and six figure prices.

“I can’t decide” she said. “Take a picture, of me with them on, then I’ll look at it later, okay?”

Well it sounded like a reasonable idea, and the salesman didn’t object. So I took some shots, and we left, promising to be back in a week or so. Over lunch we looked at the shots on the digital camera’s screen, and I saw a necklace that I liked for her, it was pear shaped, with lots of diamonds, and cost a small fortune. But she had the bucks, after all.

“I’ll get it.” she told me. “I’ll just have my guy copy it from the picture, and he can do make it for a couple of thousand dollars. You didn’t think I was going to pay them for it did you? Besides, who can tell the difference between cubic zirconium and diamonds anyway?”