That doesn’t work, we’ll give ’em Kramer!

Fucking Nazi’s.  Since writing my open letter to the tiki torch-carrying losers, more information about their actions has been revealed through photos and video footage.  And of course, the murder of Heather Heyer.  I can’t pretend to be as shocked as most seem.  The overwhelming ignorance of oppression in America is like forcing the oppressed to smoke two packs of non-filtered cigarettes a day.  We can barely fucking breathe, and people think we experience the same lives they do.  Most non-oppressed people have no fucking idea what we go through.  They’ve seen some videos now, and are starting to believe we struggle, but they STILL don’t get it yet.

They have little frame of reference because they think watching Roots brought them up to speed.  They believe now overt slavery is banned, we’re all living equally ever after.  They think Obama succeeds because of Affirmative Action, rather than sheer will, hard work, and drive most can’t even comprehend. They hate him because his existence reminds them how pathetic they are in comparison.  He achieved something incredible, and instead of motivating them to work harder, it enraged those who don’t even dare try out of fear of having their darkest fear proven correct.  They’re terrified of looking at themselves, because they know there’s nothing great to see.  The utter lack of effort they’ve put into building themselves up destroyed any self-esteem they managed to develop.  They surrendered before even trying because it was easier.

How many of you know someone branded by racist pricks?  I served with someone who bore this scar (while honorably serving the nation that enabled his torture.)  They used the same tools they use to torture livestock.  He escaped before the lynching.  This happened in the 70’s in America before the internet made it easier to expose racist evil.  When I saw his melted, scarred tissue, he quickly covered it and refused to speak of what happened.

I found out when he got drunk one night and sat up telling me his history.  I lost a lot of ignorance and innocence that night.  He was detained by racist fuckwads after school for a beat down, and was injured, (2 broken ribs from being repeatedly kicked while down.)  It made him miss his bus, and he had to walk home alone.  He was ambushed, beaten further, and branded, in preparation for a fucking LYNCHING.

They tried to horrifically murder him for walking down the street with brown skin.  He was a 9-year-old child.  It made me vomit.  My childhood was heaven in comparison.  (The difference being location, location, location.)  My family settled in an area that isn’t dominated by hate, bitterness, ignorance, and fear.  In the south, they celebrate this type of behavior.  Think about that.  This is only one horror story.  There are far, far more.  This one didn’t end in murder, but he’ll bear the scars for life.  I decided that night I’d never visit the Hate States.  I would never willingly go there, knowing evil murderers walk free as a matter of course.

Not everyone in the south has committed such atrocities.  However, everyone in the south lives among these demons.  They’re your neighbors.  You might not be aware of their evil activities.  Our fucking AG (attorney general) is a racist prick who lied under oath and colluded with the enemy to gain his ironic post.  Jeff Sessions is what a demon looks like.  (He’s an angel compared to Mike Pence.)  I wonder how many children he’s tortured and murdered.  I hope he dies in a fire.  I hope all who pose as humans while behaving as demons are annihilated.  They’re enemies of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  They’re traitors to our beloved nation.  Every time they inhale, it’s a tragedy.

Nazi’s need to crawl under a rock and stay hidden until they die as miserably as they lived.  I don’t differentiate between the groups, with all their various disguises.  They’re all one group.  Enemy.  Evangelicals, white supremacists, the GOP, neo-Nazi’s, and whatever other names they’re hiding behind.  All expendable pieces of shit holding America back from achieving further greatness.  All hateful and evil.  All bent on ethnically cleansing the United States of America until all that remains are the privileged:  Those with white skin.

Only, it won’t stop there.  The only way vile pseudo-humans can feel okay about themselves is to belittle and oppress others while falsely inflating their single qualifying attribute, (like 45.)  It’s incredibly weak and evil.  Spoiler alert:  Once the brown people are gone, they’ll turn and come after you.  Do you have brown eyes?  Brown hair?  Freckles?  Maybe that means you’re not actually white.  They don’t use science to make these determinations, so it’s only a matter of time.

And all this evil is made possible by people who only stand up for what they think affects them directly.

It’s the American way.  Nazi’s are exterminating people in vast numbers in concentration camps?  Do we come storming to the rescue?  Fuck no.  We wait until a Divine Wind awakens the Sleeping (self-interested) Giant before we decide this is UNACCEPTABLE FUCKING behavior.  Still, think America is number one?  The world police?  Think again.  America is a fickle bitch who only helps when it’s profitable.  We value money over human life as a nation.  By a long fucking shot, too.  If you come between the rich and their god (money,) some of them will kill you for it.  Not with their own hands, mind you.  They’ll hire someone to do it on their behalf so they can continue pretending their elite.  Koch brothers?  Fucking evil pricks bent on killing the planet to get RICHER THAN THEY ALREADY FUCKING ARE NOW.  They’re enemies of life.  Die. in. a. fucking. fire. Koch. demons.

The only rich people who don’t deserve to perish in a fire are the ones who earned their wealth through success, not through conquest and loopholes.  Most are only rich because of inheritance, fraud, and theft.  They cheated.  They didn’t spend years training themselves to excel as an artist, scholar, inventor, etc.  They haven’t achieved anything.  They got their status for being born.  They got it by a fucking loophole.  They’re pampered and privileged and live in bubbles of unreality.  They don’t live in the real world and aren’t subject to real consequences or strife because their $god protects them.  From everything, including murder.

The sickest part is these loophole lottery winners rarely contribute to humanity in any way.  They don’t create.  They consume disproportionate resources.  They pollute more with their private jets and multiple McMansions.  They usually live and die unnoticed, having done nothing of note.  Most of them aren’t even happy in their perfect lives because they can’t trust anyone to love them sincerely.  Here’s a hint:  It’s because you bypassed the type of life that leads to good character.  You were too busy being pampered and elitist to deign to even speak to someone who isn’t worth a billion dollars, so you don’t know anyone who isn’t a human decoration with no purpose but to consume and look cute while doing it.  Sad!

It pisses me off because it’s such a waste.  What if  Einstein had a father like 45, and was rewarded for existing?  What if his potential was smothered with excess and sycophancy?  Those who put forth nothing and gain everything are a waste of oxygen, a bad example to those more impressionable than reasonable, and a drain on our planet’s resources with zero returns.  If a leech attaches to your body, you pull it off and shudder in disgust.  Why aren’t we doing the same with the parasites draining the lifeblood out of America?  I don’t understand why we continue jumping off the cliff like fucking lemmings.  The only way I can conjure an explanation is to accept the planet is rejecting homo sapiens as a species.

It would explain why we aid in our own murders.  Why we venerate our killers rather than annihilating them.  We as a nation are fucking pathetic because we usually don’t give a fuck until it hurts.  Short-sightedness, ignorance, and evil are steering humanity toward utter destruction.  We’re failing at survival because a few fuckwads want more wealth than they’ve already stolen.  It’s never enough because it doesn’t fill the void where their souls should be.  Instead of recognizing this, they just keep taking more.  Allowing them to continue is America’s shame and pending destruction.

If there is consciousness after death, and I highly doubt it, we’ll just use it to lament our pathetic failure to survive.  It’s easier to give up, surrender, look away, walk away, and pretend it’ll all go away if we do nothing.  We’re dying as a species because life took too much effort for some people to bother even trying to live honorably.  I’m starting to think it might be for the best.  When I see Nazi’s brutalizing citizens while openly brandishing weapons so powerful the police take cover, I think maybe homo sapiens is a virus, and the planet would be better off without us.

My protective nature is beginning to recognize the planet is more worthy of saving than we who are destroying it.  I’m starting to think I’ve wasted my life loving humans more than trees and seas.  I’m finding it harder to recognize our potential as a species because it’s buried under so much hate it can only be seen with faith.  Why?  Because a few are unbelievably evil, and for some reason, we don’t kill them for it.  We let them lay waste unmolested and pretend we couldn’t prevent it.  We all lose if we don’t stop them.  Our extinction event is set to be self-destruction.  No comets, aliens, or zombies necessary.

A World of Fragile Things

I haven’t been sleeping well for the last few nights.  My brain wants to do other things, so I’ve been indulging.  The Depression Monster is banging on my door, trying to break in.  The weather is supposed to be really nice today, so I’m planning on going on a long run.  I’ll break in my new shoes, and make a new playlist.  I’ve been watching the weather in Denver for a while now.  It’s consistently warmer there.  That will be nice, as it’ll allow outdoor running year round.  My weight has gone up 5 lbs., finally.  I feel a little bit stronger, and I can feel the muscles in my legs rebuilding.  It’s a good pain most of the time.

I read something this morning that let the Depression Monster get his foot in the door.  A man in Yemen married an 8-year-old, and he murdered her.  I refuse to look into further details, as it’s already more than I can take.  I’ve seen too much hate and vileness in my life.  My first thoughts about the 8-year-old child were that it’s probably a good thing she died, rather than living to endure the wickedness of her “husband”.  Death is too often the only mercy.  I feel sad and angry that this happened.  It makes me want to scream.  It makes me want to cease existing in a world too horrible to even comprehend.

I force myself to recognize the goodness in the world.  I see it.  I know it’s there.  I just have a hard time believing that any amount of goodness can balance out the evil.  I know intellectually that those who commit such acts do so because they want to do so.  They have decided that the consequences of their behaviors either don’t exist in their case, or they don’t care.  They aren’t some odd part of humanity with a defect that leads to their extreme misbehavior.  They are the same as any other person, only they have decided to do what they want regardless of laws or morality.  The only thing separating a good person from an evil person are their choices.

I need to step back from activities related to the news.  The news is digital sadism.  I’m not fond of ignorance, but in this case, it’s necessary for self preservation.  I’m going to focus on my work and my projects.  Isolation is my refuge.

Autism Requires No Cure

I read a tweet yesterday about an organization called Autism One alleging “cures” for Autism through diet.  These “remedies” including forcing an Autistic child to ingest bleach.  It’s complete and total bullshit.  This is child abuse.  This is monstrous.  Any parent who is seeking a “cure” for their Autistic child is already on the wrong track.  Autism is a variety of human being.  If your child is Autistic, or has the diagnosis of PDD (Pervasive Developmental Disorder), your child requires you to become creative, not evil.  Your child is not broken.  Your child thinks differently, and experiences the world differently than the neurotypical variety of human being.

The desire for a “cure” is a selfish inclination.  The desire is to force their child to become something that they are not.  The desire does not lie in creating a better life for your child.  The root of the desire to “cure” Autism lies in the selfish desire of an ignorant parent who wishes their child to be what they consider normal in order to make their own lives easier, not that of their child.  It’s ignorant because normal is a setting on a washing machine, not a variety of human being.  An Autistic child requires love, patience, and a sincere desire to connect with them in their unique way of connecting.  There are lots of books and websites about Autism, but few are by people who are actually Autistic, and therefore an expert on the condition.

Trying to “cure” it is like trying to “cure” Down Syndrome.  It’s a ridiculous notion.  The time and energy wasted on this futile task could be better served by loving your child as they are, and discovering how your child communicates and learns.  This is the case with all children.  They are all beautiful beings that are new to this world, and need gentle guidance in a manner with which they can comprehend. But above all, they require your love.  If you are the parent of an Autistic child, seek advice from the true experts.  Adult Autists.  We understand better than anyone how to live with Autism.  We vary in many ways, but we are the true experts.  Many of us use alternative means of communicating, such as typing on a computer.  We are human beings who have the ability to feel joy and sorrow.  We feel empathy.  We have a sense of humor.  We love and desire to be loved.  We understand what it’s like to feel like we’ve been dropped off on an alien planet at birth, forced to struggle in order to connect with our families.  We know several creative ways to accomplish this task.  We are human beings with the full range of emotions, levels of intellect, and personalities.  We are part of humanity.

So stop seeking “cures” that don’t exist.  Stop falling for the misinformation that claims harming your child will help them.  And most of all, stop killing Autistic children.  This is monstrous behavior.  Nobody has the right to murder a child for being Autistic.  I hate that this happens.  I hate that one of my childhood neighbors murdered her daughter, and then took her own life with a shotgun in their basement.  There was no honor in this action.  It was a vile act of selfishness, ignorance, and evilness.  There are organizations that have the audacity to sympathize with parents who commit this atrocious crime, such as Autism $peaks.  They view Autistic people as burdens on their parents, and broken children who will never experience a joyful life.  They are not in the business of helping people who are Autistic.  They are in the business of collecting money from the ignorant, and using it to increase their personal wealth, and that of their friends.

Autism $peaks is the “charity” endorsed by Ed Asner.  They spend the majority of the money they gather from the unwitting people who intended their donations to help those with Autism for advertising.  Here is a link to their financial statement for 2013.  You will see that they are not only making a profit in excess of $1.5 million dollars, they spend the vast majority of their funds on advertising, and research to find the cause of Autism, potential “cures” for an incurable condition, and treatments for Autism.  I boycott this “charity”, because it’s clear to me that they are not in the business of helping people with Autism.  They are in the business of spreading misinformation, such as claims that vaccines cause Autism, which is scientifically proven to be untrue.  They are in the business of sympathizing with evil parents who murder their Autistic children.  They are in the business of ignoring the advice of Autistic people, which makes the name of this supposed charity ironic at best.

Any supposed charity that raises the ire of those it’s supposedly trying to help is a red flag.  When said organization deliberately refuses to heed the advice of the people they are supposedly trying to help, they instigate boycotts, and represent a fraudulent predatory organization in the eyes of those of us who are Autistic.  Among us, Autism $peaks is infamous, and only gives 4% of the money they collect to services and supports for Autistic people.  That’s not a typo.  4%.  This organization sees Autistic people as burdens, and promotes a center that is under investigation by the FDA for torturing Autistic people.  It’s despicable.  This link to Boycott Autism $peaks gives further and more detailed information.  Here is a link dispelling the misguided correlation between vaccines and Autism.

I’m Autistic.  I was born this way.  I’ve served in the US Army where I earned awards such as the Army Commendation Medal for excellent service.  I’ve earned a PhD in Software Engineering, and am currently a freelance programmer, as well as the CEO of an independent gaming company that hires Autistic programmers exclusively.  I’m a human being.  I am one example of an Autistic person.  I had loving parents who were patient with me.  They did not waste time seeking a cause or cure for my condition.  They loved me.  They figured out how to communicate with me.  They helped me learn and become a person who loves learning.  They accepted me as I am.  They never saw me as a burden, or considered murdering me.  They didn’t torture me, or force me to ingest vile potions in an effort to make me “normal”.  They were loving parents, and because of their willingness to be loving people, I am now an adult whose goal in life is to be joyful.  There is no better ambition, in my opinion.

I Remember

******Trigger Warning********– (graphic violence, homicide)

I’m so tired.  I lay in bed for 2 hours, but didn’t sleep.  I’m on vacation, so I’m allowed to goof off right now.  That was directed at the guilt I’m feeling because I haven’t written any code today.  Last night after I set up my new Xbox One, and waited forEVER for Halo 5 to update, I started shaking.  This has happened before.  It sucks.  I broke into a sweat, and my vision started to go black.  Then I fainted.  I was halfway to the floor by then because I knew it was coming, so I wasn’t hurt.  It’s called a Vasovagal response.

It’s no big deal.  But in the brief time I’m experiencing it, it feels pretty bad.  I’m assuming this was due to a combination of lack of sleep, forgetting to eat, and being triggered.  It’s kind of ironic how I got triggered.  I was watching PBS, and they were doing a show about veterans for the holiday.  I paid attention to the beginning when they followed a few soldiers who served in Operation Iraqi Freedom, and were home and trying to get on with their lives.  One was attending university, and another was reunited with his wife.  Before I clued in on the fact that I needed to change the channel, they started showing extremely graphic images of dead bodies in Iraq.  I was looking right at the TV when they showed one.

When I regained consciousness probably moments later, my cat was sitting beside me on the floor.  Anytime I’m on the floor, it’s a signal to her that I’m open to playing with her, so she must have wondered what was up.  I sat up slowly, and then got up and made something to eat. I sat at the counter and started eating my peanut butter sandwich, with my cat under my chair.  I didn’t change the channel, I shut the TV off completely, so it was quiet.

As I sat there, I made the mistake of wondering what caused the episode.  Bad move.  My mind threw up the graphic image again, and I pushed it away as fast as I could.  Then my mind started to wander back to when I was in the service.  My first permanent duty station was where I was stationed the longest.  I did a lot of growing up during the five years I was there.  I was pretty naive.  People I worked with directly used to say, “Earth to Special K, come in Special K”, a lot, because my Sergeant said it once, and they thought it was hilarious.  Special K was my nickname there.

I was kind of in my own world, I suppose.  I also would sing without realizing it, and the guys I worked with would join in to bring it to my attention.  Again, they thought it was hilarious.  I got on well with them, though.  My Sergeant was from Panama, and had 2 little boys.  I spent a lot of time with her and her kids.  She was one of the senior NCO’s in my unit, which meant she had a lot of responsibility and power.  She was like a second Mom to me in many ways.  She was the most amazing person I had the pleasure of meeting while serving, and that’s saying a lot, as I met a lot of amazing people during that time.

She was strict, demanded your best at all times, and looked out for her people like a lioness with her cubs.  She made you want to do a good job, because getting praised by her was a rare but wonderful thing when it happened.  I had trouble making friends in the Army too.  I had a lot of friendly acquaintances, but a lot of the women considered me too young to hang out with.  I was one of about 4 people on the entire post who were under 18, which was the legal drinking age there.  So going to the club was out at first.  I spent all my free time at the education center, or with my Sergeants kids.

After our first field problem, I met a woman from Jamaica.  She didn’t like me at first, because I kept following her around, asking her to pronounce words, then giggling when she complied.  She was a medic and was super feisty.  She was married, and had recently given birth to a son.  I must have grown on her, because before long, we became good friends.  She lived off post in an apartment complex.  Her younger sister was coming to visit for her 18th birthday, and I was invited to attend the party.  Our unit had a parade that day, and she was covering it with the ambulance.

As was always the case, about an hour into the parade, I fainted.  I just can’t stand at attention for long periods in 90+ degree weather.  When I fell out, the ones standing around me in formation saw it coming and propped me up until the medics came and dragged me away.  While I was recovering with an IV in the ambulance, she told me her husband was coming home.  He was in our unit before I arrived, and had since been sent to Korea.  Often, if you marry someone in your unit, one of you gets orders to go somewhere else soon afterward.

I rode with her back to my unit and changed into civilian clothes for the party.  I rode with a guy in my unit, and on the way there, we stopped for a bucket of KFC.  When we arrived, my friend was upstairs with her husband, and her sister was sitting on the sofa holding the baby.  I sat down beside her and started playing with the baby.  I don’t know where the guy I rode with was.  Probably in the bathroom.  A few minutes later, I heard some shouting coming from upstairs.  Then a really long, horrible moan from my friend.

Her husband came down the stairs really fast, and ran out the door.  My ride went after him.  I had a really bad feeling.  I knew something was wrong.  My friends sister grabbed my arm tightly, and we both started to cry.  I felt so numb.  I got up and started to climb the stairs.  Her sister started to follow me, and I told her no, stay with the baby.  I went up to the landing, and looked at the bloody handprint on the door.  For some reason, I couldn’t hear the baby crying anymore.  I felt like I was far away, and my body was an avatar I was operating.  I walked into the bedroom, and saw my friend laying across the bed.  Her head was bashed in, and her brain was showing.  There was a hammer on the floor that had blood and hair on it.

I turned around and started to walk down the stairs.  Her sister was in the process of coming up them, and I physically fought her back down the stairs and forced her out the door after taking the baby from her.  I still couldn’t hear.  I just remember it was so bright outside.  Her sister was still crying, but I don’t know if I was anymore.  My friends car was gone, and an ambulance was pulling into the parking lot.  I held the baby in one arm, and her sisters arm in my other hand.  It was the most surreal moment of my life.  And inside, I had a thought that still makes me feel ashamed.

I thought to myself, “She can’t be dead, she promised to braid my hair”.  I hate that I thought that at the worst possible moment.  I felt like the most selfish person who ever existed.  The police seemed to just appear out of nowhere, and one of them was a woman.  She came over and took the baby, then some other police started directing us to the back of the ambulance.  I was thinking they were confused, because I was fine, I didn’t need an ambulance.  Her sister clung to me, but I couldn’t feel it.  They took us back to the barracks.  It was on the news on TV that night.  Everyone in the barracks was so shocked.

It turned out that my friend was cheating on her husband, and someone in my unit wrote to him in Korea and told him about it.  He got leave, came home, and beat her to death with a hammer.  Then he took off when I saw him storming out of the apartment.  The guy I worked with ran after him.  Her husband confessed to him what he’d done, then drove into the canyon in an unsuccessful suicide attempt.  The guy I worked with called the police at the apartment office.  He came to check on me later that night, and explained things to me.  I never even knew she was cheating on her husband.

It had never occurred to me that someone could sleep with anyone other than their spouse.  This is what I meant about my being naive.  The murder divided our unit pretty much into men vs. women.  The guys thought he was justified in what he did.  The women thought it was monstrous.  He was arrested that night, and it went to trial.  Some of the guys had to testify, but I was never told the details.  He got 40 years in prison.  The sister took the baby home to Jamaica where her parents decided to raise him.

We were marched in formation to the chapel, where a pair of her combat boots, her dog tags, her medic arm band, and a photo sat at the altar.  We all filed up to it, one by one, and saluted.  The guy she was cheating with was weeping so hard a friend had to help him walk.  I was the other person weeping the entire time.  I was still in shock, and the crying just wouldn’t stop.  It wasn’t my first experience with death.  Some of the foster babies died in our home when I was a kid.  But this was the first time someone died when I was an adult.  It leveled me.

I started losing weight because I was too sad to eat.  I went down to the supply room in the basement to exchange my linens, and to my horror, the bloody mattress was propped against the wall near the armory.  Apparently, the supply people had to go to the apartment and pack up her stuff and clear out the apartment.  This is a typical example of how the mission always comes first, no matter what, in the military.  It didn’t matter that they all knew my friend, and were shaken up by what had happened.  It had to be done, so they did it.

I took one look at the mattress, and started screaming.  It was really weird, because I couldn’t stop at first.  It was like someone else was screaming.  My sergeant came and got me, and I stayed at her house for a few days to regroup.  Playing with her kids was just what I needed.  The sadness has always remained, but I’ve learned how to live with it.  I still have her medic arm band.  I think about her sometimes.  I have nightmares about it sometimes.  As far as I know, her husband is still in prison.  I sent letters back and forth with her sister for a few years, and in the last photo I got of the baby, he looked adorable.

It’s a violent world, the military.  There were 3 murders connected to my unit during my 5 years there.  But this is the one that continues to haunt me.  Maybe I’ll be able to sleep now that I got it out.