THE BIG BANG
There are not a lot of things which make me angry, but there is a condensation of what makes me angry where I live. I want to leave and never return.
The number one thing which makes me angry is the term, Personal Responsibility. Because it has been taken and perverted to mean rape is acceptable. It was all your fault. It denies childhood. It denies that becoming an adult is a course which requires time and maturity. It produces mental illness. And because no one wants to admit what is really going on, the mental illness is deemed a forever condition. How can you make someone well, if they are the problem? To make them well, you’d have to tell them the truth and nobody wants to.
The number two thing which makes me angry is community as psychiatrist and it is this issue which backs up the first. Until you’ve heard a pedophile explain to you why he watches his eight year old niece go to the bathroom, because he’s afraid that she’s going to be bulimic, you don’t get it. Imagine cancer checking on itself, in the spirit of love.
The third thing which makes me angry is the insidiously parasitical politics which prevents me from having a checking or savings account locally. Ever had a bank steal your money?
The fourth thing which makes me angry is political censorship. Say something that insults the incestuous or pedophiles and weird things begin to happen in your life.
You know, I don’t expect perfection and paradise out of life, but I’m no child molester and I’m not incestuous and I’m not going to have it forced on me. I’m not going to be the scapegoat for these people. Nor are my children and grandchildren. I’m not going to play the game.
On one side, there are those who destroy victims, by deeming them perpetrators. On the other side are those who make victims lifelong victims.
Then there’s the Multi-Disciplinary task force. Were it up to me, they’d all go to a federal prison and rot there. They keep pressing me and perhaps it can be arranged. They’ve almost made the sexual abuse of children acceptable. It is almost expected.
I am in a corner and I am badly outnumbered. The vultures and the dogs watch me. They watch for my sigh of giving in to that death. They await with their bad psychology and in their insanity, they create their stories. There is strength in numbers, even schizophrenics will tell you that.
But the sigh will never come.
