In a previous writing, I stated in more sarcastic terms that my present situation reminds me of prior occasions when I have acted out violently towards other people. The situation is best described by quoting a line spoken by Jack Nicholson during the 2003 film titled Anger Management.
Dave, there are two kinds of angry people in this world: explosive and implosive. Explosive, which is the most common, is the type of individual you see screaming at a grocery store cashier for not taking his coupon. Implosive, the least common, is the cashier at the store who remains quiet at his job day after day until he then finally loses it and just shoots everyone in the store. You’re the cashier.
Change the name spoken very slightly, and Mr. Nicholson‘s character could have been addressing me. Of course, when you have the benefit of hindsight, it is easy to look back on the way you behaved as a twelve year old boy and realise that you hold things in as much as you can until people push you to a point where you have the overwhelming urge to bury an axe in their head. But the benefit of hindsight also comes with a heavy price. When the conditions in which the prior event occurred have mostly not changed, you can drive yourself to distraction thinking about how it is only a matter of time before you explode again and hurt somebody.
Also worth noting is that a lot of the time, it is the wrong somebody that gets hurt. Whether it is my mother, a teacher who just happened to be at the wrong place on the wrong occasion, or someone I might be sharing a house with, it is often a person either whose role in the problem is minimal at best or is just as badly affected by the problem. And it also highlights just how desperate I have to get for this to happen, too. I mean, honestly, how do you punch an economic policy of allowing the rich to not pay for what they use at the expense of everyone else in the face? Short of punching the ministers responsible for adopting it, and the ministers responsible for perpetuating it? And whilst I would love to do such a thing, unfortunately such an act will also not get the message across. This is to say nothing of the fact that the people who make the policies tend to be such cowards that they will never avail themselves to learn of the impact their policy has upon the people who have to live with it.
Whilst the subject is fresh in my mind, let us clarify a few things about blame. This is not about blame. In The Stand, Stephen King writes of one character likening the blame for the situation in the first act to a pyramid. The soldier that flees the secret base in which the virus was being developed is at the top, but there is no reason that anyone in the same place would do any differently. So it is worth talking about the concept of responsibility. In a complex, interdependent society, nobody does anything without affecting someone else. Whether it is refusal to pay a bill, paying no mind when someone makes a call for help, or ignoring when someone else is being abused, the repercussions of these selfish acts reverberate throughout the society.
This also brings to mind a musing about a story point that occurred once in a while in some pieces I remember. Every so often, one would get a character, almost always a youthful one, making statements about wanting to get back at society, or “the system”, or the like. One such dialogue that springs to mind involved the authority figure portrayed by Norman Coburn retorting that the system in question is not something you “get back” at, it just exists, for good or ill. Unlike most of his castmates, Coburn plays this character well. He usually came off in a similar manner to James Sloyan‘s in Xanadu. Specifically, although the character is meant to be thought of as an antagonist, particularly by people who might identify with the one that he is addressing in this sequence I speak of, he simply makes too much sense for it. It is the same principle that Jello Biafra invoked when he said to not hate the media, but rather to become it.
Every seventeen year old with a sufficient intelligence quota to think outside of their own street has fantasies about the different society they would build if they were given the chance. And those aged fifty and over seem to take a perverse delight in picking them apart. But there is one thing very wrong here: what we have now is, put simply, no longer working for us. It is bad enough if one is an accepted, but not rich, member of the society in question. If one was not drop-kicked through the goal posts of life, on the other hand, one has little more than despair, isolation, and alienation to look forward to.
I hope the oldies can understand this, but when they proclaim that things are either perfectly fine (false) or that things cannot be changed (also false), they deserve the anger they receive. The most insulting thing about our present situation of severe economic polarisation is that it has all happened before. The late nineteenth and early twentieth century was a period in which governments did little, if anything, to regulate economies, and populaces were simply expected to ride out economic depressions. The problem with this is that there are severe consequences to the society and the people living in it from such a policy. Whilst the factors that led to Germany becoming a fascist state that killed millions of people in a systematic fashion are numerous, it is also arguable that without the worldwide macroeconomic phenomenon known as the Great Depression, the Nazi Party would not have enjoyed anywhere near the success that they did.
The point here is that intervention, directed/guided change to societies, and policies that force change to equalise societies to keep the poorest from completely falling apart work. The historical record is so strongly in favour of this that it justifies the elimination of the people who believe otherwise, in my view. One has to indulge in a lot of doublespeak or doublethought in order to truly believe that enriching the already-rich at the expense of everyone else has a shred of merit as an economic policy. Historians have long known that when an empire’s middle class is in decline, so too will be the empire. Every empire from the British to the Chinese to the Roman has exemplified this. Unless there is a change soon in the loose empire formed by the English-speaking world, historians two hundred years from now will be using it as an example of the same phenomena.
The truth is that life is about dealing with stresses and imperfections. In fact, I would say that such forms the basis of merely existing. But the truth I am trying to impart here is that when one places an individual in a situation that stresses them to the point where they would rather be dead than deal with another month, week, or even day of it, all of society ends up sharing in the consequences. In times prior to the industrial revolution, the collective life expectancy was not even half of what it is today. And often the people who did live to be old set a good example of why others would not want to. Even in Groucho Marx‘s day, when people said they hoped they would die before they got old, it was because they saw growing old as entailing going blind, becoming severely crippled, being riddled with disease, and more besides.
There is a lot I could say along all of these lines, but the basic point here is that I feel pushed towards something terrible, whether it be of my own doing or experience, and I feel the people who generally advertise themselves as being in the job of cleaning up the messes from Reagan-esque economic policy are only being complicit in it.
The reason I am pouring my heart out about this is because I am quite serious in not wanting my fears to come true. When you are twelve years old, it is easy to kid yourself that being violently antisocial and punching your way out of everything is a viable way to live. Hell, there are some twenty-five year olds I have come across that kid themselves in the same way. But as one gets older and learns more that there are limits to what one can do, one begins to realise that it is no way to go through life.
Contrary to what a lot of curebies and ignoramuses would like potential donors to believe, the autistic do not not desire to be integrated with the society that they are a part of or were born into. They merely have different conditions that need to be met in order to smooth the process out. A good analogy is that of a recent migrant to a peaceful country from a country in which they have been persecuted. Some such migrants will come in bearing serious psychological scars from their prior experiences. Although different countries have different approaches, migrants that come in are usually at least partly integrated with the country they choose to come to, sometimes even eventually in a legal sense. Interpreters are brought in to help them understand what officials are saying to them, and vice versa. Migrants who have already progressed further along the path of integration even band together to help others along the path, by means both fair and foul. But it was not always this way. In fact, a lot of racist rants about how some groups have “genetically inferior” intelligence quotients were fuelled by how poorly Polish migrants after World War II did in America. I mean, seriously, when you bring a population into a land where nobody speaks their language or understands their culture, you have to wonder what people think is going to happen.
That is kind of the problem I am touching upon now. After a fashion, of course. You see, whilst I was born in a country where the majority both in the numerical and social sense spoke English, the fact remains that just because both participants in the conversation use English words does not necessarily mean that they are speaking the same language. I do not speak normie, and based on the manner in which normies have behaved towards me in the past as a result of this, I have no desire to learn.
You see, part of integrating migrants into your population means that you have to meet them halfway in some manner. That means allowing them to speak their own language at home. It means allowing them to congregate in places where others of their kind are massed. The sattelite of Parramatta that I grew up in, Greystanes, is famous for having one of the largest Maltese and Catholic Maltese populations in Australia. In fact, it has been said in the past by outsiders that the Maltese populace of Greystanes is larger than the populace of Malta (Malta is a rather small place). But because all of the peoples of Greystanes were allowed to mingle freely without fear or enforced “thems not like us” from the powers that be, the Maltese, the Italians, the Britons, and even to some degree the Lebanese, got along.
The us-versus-them attitude displayed toward peoples of the autistic spectrum everywhere they go, combined with an apparent refusal to see the need to meet them halfway, is having a noticeable effect both on the autistic population and me. That is the point I am trying to get across in part today.
I have tried to get my male parental unit to meet me halfway enough times now that I know he is not interested in trying. That is why I no longer want to know him. I am starting to fear that my mother is going the same way. I would love to be able to disappear out of both of their lives, and my sister’s, forever. But this cannot happen until some meeting-halfway begins to occur.