What do you really expect me to say?

Two things. One, it is not okay to sympathise with a person who almost killed her child, no matter what the circumstances are. Two, “not everyone is as high-functioning as you” is like saying “not everyone is as white as you” or “not everyone is as literate as you”. It is a total non-sequitor. A woman tried to kill her autistic child. No amount of attempting to demonise that child will ever make that woman a hero, regardless of what normies think.

The meaning of awareness. The real meaning, in the real world context.

Autism Awareness. Autism Awareness. Autism Awareness. Autism Awareness. Autism Awareness. Diabetes Awareness. Cancer Awareness. Spina Bifida Awareness. Down’s Syndrome Awareness. Retardation Awareness. Being born without limbs Awareness.

See where I am going with this yet, normies?

Some closing thoughts for the month.

July is an odd part of the year from my perspective. My mother was born in the last week of it, and I was diagnosed with diabetes exactly thirty years to that day. I have already resolved that if my dream of being in the Human trials for a cure for diabetes comes true, I will ask them to do that procedure on my mother’s birthday. She will “get it”.

Yet another FOAD to “geek culture”. Proposed examples of what autistic culture looks like.

A little while ago, I posted an extended commentary concerning Leah Jane‘s response to a “geek culture” display of hypocrisy. The original image is available everywhere, so I am not going to bother linking it. Whilst there are issues with Leah Jane‘s response, the basic fact of the matter is that the people going around like morons telling us all that they are “geeks” when they have never bitten the head off a chicken and swallowed it (look up “geek show” on the Wikipedia) are hypocrites to the Nth degree.

The deficit between positive interaction and flat-out abuse

I have tried, and I do mean tried, to write two more posts that might mean something to anybody. But I just cannot at present. It is difficult enough to write when one is feeling relatively okay inside and has a collection of ideas (or even just one idea) to write about.

The mockingbird is dead.

So, last night (at around 0200 hours, so more like this morning), I finally finished my first reading of the Harper Lee novel To Kill A Mockingbird. I originally purchased this copy of the novel about two weeks ago, so my reading speed is quite sluggish as you might have noticed. I tend to get distracted and turn to other tasks in mid-read, so this should surprise nobody. The irony here is that considering I could read at what you clowns call an adult level when I was three years old, unless the literature in question is of a certain quality, I find it terrible and painful to try and read it.