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Hello and welcome back to Cult Leader. I'm your Cult Leader, Spencer Henry, and I'm gay.

And so is this episode being its Pride Month? I am donating proceeds from today's episode to the Trevor Project,

which is an American non-profit organization focused on suicide prevention efforts among LGBTQ youth.

Through a toll-free telephone number, it operates the Trevor Lifeline, which is a confidential service that offers trained counselors

I donate to them throughout the year, and you can too by visiting their website, thetreverproject.org, or clicking the link in my bio or today's show notes.

Cult Babes, Cult Babes, Cult Babes. I have been going through the episode request thread that is on our Facebook group,

which if you're not a part of, you can join it by just searching Cult Leader Podcast in the search bar on Facebook, and then the group should come up.

And I've been reading just through all of them and looking them all up. And most of them I was familiar with,

there are some that I was not as familiar with, including today's episode, so I'm super excited because we are talking about Herbert, a bomb-meister.

And he was a real, real interesting fellow. You can actually get a visual and audio look at him. If you look on YouTube and just search her bomb-meister raccoon,

he did this weird news clip of him talking about seeing a raccoon get killed, and it's just, I mean, perfect.

What more could you want? He was born on April 7th of 1947 in Indianapolis, Indiana, and he was the oldest of four children born to Herbert Senior,

who was an anesthesiologist and Elizabeth Bombmeister who took care of the children at home. It is seemingly normal childhood, no big interruptions that would,

prelude to anything that was coming. However, we have some conflicting reports from people who grew up with Herb saying that he was found playing with dead animals on occasion, and we know what that means.

Mostly an okay student. However, reportedly once urinated on a teacher's desk on another occasion, he reportedly picked up a dead crow on the side of the row, and when a teacher wasn't looking,

dropped it on her desk, but you know, the good old say, and boys will be boys, and in excerpt from a writing piece called Strange Herb by Logan Smith,

Bookish Herb could not become part of the quote unquote, in-crowd. He tried to be one of the bunch, but he just didn't blend in.

He withdrew to himself and spent many hours alone. As for his interest in dating, friend Donovan answers zero. I never saw him date.

During high school, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia, but hey, it's the 60s. We're just going to not do anything about it.

After receiving the diagnosis, he received no further psychiatric treatment, which is just like wild to me. If and when I have kids, they are going to therapy straight out the womb.

We're taking no chances, and it's just one of those things where I feel like a lot of our probably like some of our parents, some of our grandparents, not mine luckily, but we're very like, oh, we don't talk about our problems with other people. There would be like no thanks.

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