Dear Son,
Sometime in my early to mid thirties I began labeling people autistic, and the reason I did it is because the autistic consistently fail at announcing themselves. They don't go around with a t-shirt that says ON THE SPECTRUM or a business card that says GO EASY. You most often find out the hard way after picking on them for a year or so, only to realize, slowly but surely, that you've been picking on the handicapped.
To keep myself from this tragedy I ask myself a series of questions. Does he consistently misunderstand my jokes -- which are hilarious? Does he apply the rules so meticulously that they fly in the face of all reason? Does he miss the hundreds of cues responsible for telling us when someone is angry, or offended? If so I take the initiative upon myself to out him, inform all his acquaintances of his condition, and thereby save him, artfully and heroically, from a constant stream of their insults and well-deserved back-stabbings*. It sounds cruel at first but it's saintly; and if the psychologists make a living out of telling us the obvious I say the more experienced among us ought to do it as well. A refined sense of judgment ought to be shared -- like good music, or pictures of Anita Ekberg.
Beyond this I enjoy labeling people psychos. I've had a couple of these freaks pushed on me, most usually in church, and most usually by someone who believes we would "get along well" and that this "getting along well" would increase the fellowship of the saints (this was of course before I went apostate). The truth is that we didn't get along well, and that a psycho's main talent is making sure you don't; and if you can spot the warning signs, such as high anxiety due to paranoia, a tendency to blow little things out of proportion, a constant series of "issues" and failed relationships and the occasional desire to kill her own dog, you'll save yourself from a lifetime of trouble. Unlike the autist my warning is for the sake of the public and not for the sake of the woman (and the psycho most usually is a woman); and the only way to get rid of these people is to shut them out of your life entirely, and if this fails, to jump on board a plan like The Final Solution.
I don't usually label people depressed because most people out there who experience "depression," maybe 90% of them, are just sad for a perfectly good reason. A lot of them are sad because they're screw-ups. I don't count anyone who's sad to be "depressed"** if someone just died or they're lonely or heartbroken -- or if they're obese, or eat buckets of junk food; if they don't exercise a few days a week for 20 minutes or more each time; if they don't have a regular sleeping schedule; if they drink too much or use drugs; if they fool around with sluts and spend their time with deadbeats; if they constantly make idiotic decisions; if they don't pray and they play too many video games and spend too much time scrolling through Facebook.
A lack of purpose is totally different from a chemical inability to be happy, and so I try to find out what they're living for. I check to see if one of the things they live for is their own personal growth. I most usually ask them one by one about each of these things and what they spend their time doing, and am not surprised to find out, after careful inquiry, that they've been screwing themselves over for years and are just now reaping the effects. The majority of all people today suffering from "depression" are unwilling to save themselves; and if I think they're unwilling to save themselves, I toss them a quick lifeline; and if they don't take it or at least part of it, I wash my hands like Pontius Pilate, wish them the very best, and go on my way whistling while they crucify themselves.
There's little you can do for a pervert, however, shy of maybe castration and doping; and so long as they don't cause any trouble I have more pity on these people than the others. It seems to be linked to our intelligence. The brighter we get the more connections we have in the brain; next thing you know the wiring gets all confused; one non-sexual thing is linked to the gonads, and suddenly you have Japan. The higher the IQ the more the wiring is likely to get tangled***; and the longer I think about sex the more I realize that the advancement of the human race, far beyond anything else on the planet, is increasingly aligned with perversion. It doesn't mean that everyone goes wrong but it means more of us do. The places with the greatest advances in literature, in films, in music and science and philosophy and architecture are all loaded with freaks like the Greeks; and the Tower of Babel was probably destroyed to keep us from the advent of hentai.
God simply couldn't handle the adult baby, or vore; and sometime around the Enlightenment he realized that our advancement was incurably linked with our depravity and left us alone. To leave the Garden of Eden was to enter the internet. And we all know what we can find on the internet. The Europeans and the Asians flew right into the stars and found the heavens filled with grime. We praised the great technology known as the mind and are beginning to realize the hardware's full of bugs.
Your father,
-J
*The basic assumption we make here is that a well-developed brain, in those old enough to know better, allows someone to keep from being an ass. Of course once we admit this there's a tendency to wonder whether Jeff is lazy because his blood is too thick or if Susan's an idiot because her wiring's been shorted. Simply put we have no way to know; and for every person we label defective there are a thousand others wanting the same thing -- a free pass for their biological, intellectual, and spiritual failures. To grant the free pass to nobody is cruel, but not nearly as harmful as granting a free pass to everyone.
**For all the attention we give sadness and depression in America we miss the most reliable marker of them both, which is suicide. All the stats at this time point toward Eastern Europe and Russia and China, places where people have few material things to live for other than women and vodka, and where people are least likely to believe in a God. You put the two of these together and you have a recipe for disaster, especially in China, where they're running out of women. The closest I've ever been to blowing my own brains out was 90% of the time because of a woman, and the last 10% was because I was abandoned by God. But I suppose this shows you who I really worship.
There is on the other hand a kind of sadness that can be beautiful. When you get there you'll know it; and the feeling when you're there is just as important as the ecstasy of being in love. It's almost like fun. It means you're alive and you're human and you're thinking about being human -- another note on the piano of the soul, and a necessary part of the symphony of your existence. To return there willingly isn't depression and it isn't because you've screwed up. It's because you're a work of art. Enjoy it -- but a good artist knows to only paint there sometimes.
***Aside from outright sexual perversion consider the ridiculous philosophies of professional philosophers. The common man is out there doing sensible things and he generally agrees about what we ought not to be doing. The average philosopher is out there arguing about whether he's the only person in existence; whether God is one or three substances; whether there are two or fifty genders; whether our biology has anything to do with our brains; whether there are an unlimited number of universes with an unlimited number of possibilities; whether race is a social construct; whether dangerous criminals are victims; whether robbing and enslaving people is more moral than exchanging things freely with them; whether the human race ought to be eliminated; whether sexual attraction is oppression; whether there's such a thing as beauty; whether money is the root of all evil; and whether every single person is equal. The moment these thinkers run things is the moment things begin to stop running. They have more brains to go right. They have more brains to go wrong.
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Sometime in my early to mid thirties I began labeling people autistic, and the reason I did it is because the autistic consistently fail at announcing themselves. They don't go around with a t-shirt that says ON THE SPECTRUM or a business card that says GO EASY. You most often find out the hard way after picking on them for a year or so, only to realize, slowly but surely, that you've been picking on the handicapped.
To keep myself from this tragedy I ask myself a series of questions. Does he consistently misunderstand my jokes -- which are hilarious? Does he apply the rules so meticulously that they fly in the face of all reason? Does he miss the hundreds of cues responsible for telling us when someone is angry, or offended? If so I take the initiative upon myself to out him, inform all his acquaintances of his condition, and thereby save him, artfully and heroically, from a constant stream of their insults and well-deserved back-stabbings*. It sounds cruel at first but it's saintly; and if the psychologists make a living out of telling us the obvious I say the more experienced among us ought to do it as well. A refined sense of judgment ought to be shared -- like good music, or pictures of Anita Ekberg.
Beyond this I enjoy labeling people psychos. I've had a couple of these freaks pushed on me, most usually in church, and most usually by someone who believes we would "get along well" and that this "getting along well" would increase the fellowship of the saints (this was of course before I went apostate). The truth is that we didn't get along well, and that a psycho's main talent is making sure you don't; and if you can spot the warning signs, such as high anxiety due to paranoia, a tendency to blow little things out of proportion, a constant series of "issues" and failed relationships and the occasional desire to kill her own dog, you'll save yourself from a lifetime of trouble. Unlike the autist my warning is for the sake of the public and not for the sake of the woman (and the psycho most usually is a woman); and the only way to get rid of these people is to shut them out of your life entirely, and if this fails, to jump on board a plan like The Final Solution.
I don't usually label people depressed because most people out there who experience "depression," maybe 90% of them, are just sad for a perfectly good reason. A lot of them are sad because they're screw-ups. I don't count anyone who's sad to be "depressed"** if someone just died or they're lonely or heartbroken -- or if they're obese, or eat buckets of junk food; if they don't exercise a few days a week for 20 minutes or more each time; if they don't have a regular sleeping schedule; if they drink too much or use drugs; if they fool around with sluts and spend their time with deadbeats; if they constantly make idiotic decisions; if they don't pray and they play too many video games and spend too much time scrolling through Facebook.
A lack of purpose is totally different from a chemical inability to be happy, and so I try to find out what they're living for. I check to see if one of the things they live for is their own personal growth. I most usually ask them one by one about each of these things and what they spend their time doing, and am not surprised to find out, after careful inquiry, that they've been screwing themselves over for years and are just now reaping the effects. The majority of all people today suffering from "depression" are unwilling to save themselves; and if I think they're unwilling to save themselves, I toss them a quick lifeline; and if they don't take it or at least part of it, I wash my hands like Pontius Pilate, wish them the very best, and go on my way whistling while they crucify themselves.
There's little you can do for a pervert, however, shy of maybe castration and doping; and so long as they don't cause any trouble I have more pity on these people than the others. It seems to be linked to our intelligence. The brighter we get the more connections we have in the brain; next thing you know the wiring gets all confused; one non-sexual thing is linked to the gonads, and suddenly you have Japan. The higher the IQ the more the wiring is likely to get tangled***; and the longer I think about sex the more I realize that the advancement of the human race, far beyond anything else on the planet, is increasingly aligned with perversion. It doesn't mean that everyone goes wrong but it means more of us do. The places with the greatest advances in literature, in films, in music and science and philosophy and architecture are all loaded with freaks like the Greeks; and the Tower of Babel was probably destroyed to keep us from the advent of hentai.
God simply couldn't handle the adult baby, or vore; and sometime around the Enlightenment he realized that our advancement was incurably linked with our depravity and left us alone. To leave the Garden of Eden was to enter the internet. And we all know what we can find on the internet. The Europeans and the Asians flew right into the stars and found the heavens filled with grime. We praised the great technology known as the mind and are beginning to realize the hardware's full of bugs.
There is a possibility, of course, that even the sub-strains of humanity such as the bushmen are loaded with bugs, and the reason they haven't told us is because they haven't had a chance to. They simply lack the mass media. And what we find is that our freaks, or at least the few of them gross enough to express themselves, were catered to because some tv show host was outdone by everyone else in the news and sitcoms and women's daytime talk shows; and having nothing else to give and being unwilling to quit the industry, he found something that got everyone's attention but required absolutely no talent. Thus The Jerry Springer Show was born, and America gave the world what everyone else was too ashamed to be associated with -- our sexual defectives. The arrival of the internet only meant that we could cut Jerry Springer out as the middleman. The perversion was merely severed from the face of the pervert, and shame gave way to a regrettable and almost boundless sewer of self-expression.
Your father,
-J
*The basic assumption we make here is that a well-developed brain, in those old enough to know better, allows someone to keep from being an ass. Of course once we admit this there's a tendency to wonder whether Jeff is lazy because his blood is too thick or if Susan's an idiot because her wiring's been shorted. Simply put we have no way to know; and for every person we label defective there are a thousand others wanting the same thing -- a free pass for their biological, intellectual, and spiritual failures. To grant the free pass to nobody is cruel, but not nearly as harmful as granting a free pass to everyone.
**For all the attention we give sadness and depression in America we miss the most reliable marker of them both, which is suicide. All the stats at this time point toward Eastern Europe and Russia and China, places where people have few material things to live for other than women and vodka, and where people are least likely to believe in a God. You put the two of these together and you have a recipe for disaster, especially in China, where they're running out of women. The closest I've ever been to blowing my own brains out was 90% of the time because of a woman, and the last 10% was because I was abandoned by God. But I suppose this shows you who I really worship.
There is on the other hand a kind of sadness that can be beautiful. When you get there you'll know it; and the feeling when you're there is just as important as the ecstasy of being in love. It's almost like fun. It means you're alive and you're human and you're thinking about being human -- another note on the piano of the soul, and a necessary part of the symphony of your existence. To return there willingly isn't depression and it isn't because you've screwed up. It's because you're a work of art. Enjoy it -- but a good artist knows to only paint there sometimes.
***Aside from outright sexual perversion consider the ridiculous philosophies of professional philosophers. The common man is out there doing sensible things and he generally agrees about what we ought not to be doing. The average philosopher is out there arguing about whether he's the only person in existence; whether God is one or three substances; whether there are two or fifty genders; whether our biology has anything to do with our brains; whether there are an unlimited number of universes with an unlimited number of possibilities; whether race is a social construct; whether dangerous criminals are victims; whether robbing and enslaving people is more moral than exchanging things freely with them; whether the human race ought to be eliminated; whether sexual attraction is oppression; whether there's such a thing as beauty; whether money is the root of all evil; and whether every single person is equal. The moment these thinkers run things is the moment things begin to stop running. They have more brains to go right. They have more brains to go wrong.
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