An Open Letter to a Man Who Raped Me: Frederick “Fritz” T. Smith of Seyfarth Shaw, LLP, a.k.a. ‘Batman’

Hi Fritz (a.k.a “Batman“),

Yup, it’s come to this. I am now publicly accusing you of organizing and participating in the gang-rape I endured last year at the hands of you and your foolish little posse of grown-up “cool kids”, whom I have referred to variously on this blog as the “Inappropriate Behavior Police” or the “Justice League Gang“. You (all) have taken some pains to hide your identities from me, but I’m pretty sure we’re talking about folks with first names like Marty, Geoff, Bob, Cliff, and so forth, and a few women as well.

You know who they are, I’m sure; and I know you all raped me.

Yeah, yeah “figuratively speaking”, but I really don’t give a fuck if every human being on your planet thinks that that is a distinction that actually matters here. The distinction doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter to me at all that you guys raped me “so to speak”, or that you all behaved as perfect ladies and gentlemen as you raped me, so as not to cause any detectable physical injury. I really don’t care about that. Nor do I even care that I may be suffering from some sort of a “rape delusion” — where in “reality” you guys did absolutely nothing wrong whatsoever, and I just completely imagined the whole thing.

I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that.

I’m autistic, dipshit, and if I’ve helped you all learn anything useful about autism, you’ve learned that I’m not actually living on your planet. No. I live on mine — my own little world, see. And on my planet, really the most important opinion on that planet, is just my own.

Now, I’m not suggesting that nobody else’s opinions ever matter to me — of course they do. I’m not totally disconnected from your world. I’m aware of it. I believe it to be real. I know it has a tremendous influence on me. I’m also quite confused about how it works and especially why it doesn’t just completely collapse in on itself; but when push comes to shove as it has clearly done so here, in my world the final arbiter of all disputes is just me. In my world, I am judge, jury, and executioner.

Now, if you just shit yourself a little bit there, I sincerely apologize. Please know that you and the others are absolutely not in any kind of physical danger from me, whatsoever. I can assure you that whatever my resemblances to Adam Lanza may be as an autistic person, I am absolutely nothing like that monster. I abhor violence, guns, really all of that insanity. I don’t even play violent video games. On my planet, there is no death-penalty, not even for a monster like Lanza. And that does not lessen his status as a monster, in my view. Although I do have deep sympathy for the Adam he was before he became a monstrosity — for the child he was, the boy he was, the teenager he was, and even the very, very troubled young man he was, right up until he killed his first victim; but once he did that, he was lost to all of us. At that moment poor, deeply troubled Adam mutated into Adam the monster, and any sympathy resources offered to such a monster would have to be stolen from its victims, which makes no sense whatsoever, as I see it (for now, and until I encounter the sort of evidence that could change my mind).

But you are not even a monster, are you? None of you are, of course. You committed a crime, yes (in my opinion), but let’s face it, it was almost certainly a kind of accident, am I right? See, I get it, really I do. You are all good people. You thought you were acting in the best interests of the company and the safety of most of its employees. Not my safety, clearly. Fuck, you gang-raped me (and because of their dependence on me, you indirectly gang-raped my family — my kids!). But yes, everybody else was somehow worth protecting, and you erroneously believed that I was somehow a danger to them, just as you erroneously believed that firing me would somehow protect them. Believe me, Fritz, had I actually been an Adam Lanza sort of safety hazard, a lot of folks would be dead, and the survivors would be suffering from broken hearts and PTSD now. It is shamefully easy to buy a gun, and the security at MetLife sucks for that sort of thing, although I hear it’s great at receiving lunch deliveries.

Because you aren’t really monsters, I’m guessing you’d like to know how to make things right between us. If that is really what you are thinking, then congratulations, because you are definitely thinking in the right direction. If you are not yet thinking about how to make things right between us, then I strongly encourage you to do so, because I’m fucking relentless, Fritz, and I’m just getting warmed up here. Understand this, asshole: I will not stop until we have made our peace with each other.

And here’s how to do it: It’s pretty simple, really. I need to know that you folks understand that raping me was a huge, fucking mistake. I need to know beyond a reasonable doubt that you understand what you did to me, and that you are so sorry about having done so, that you will never, ever even think of doing anything like that again — not to me, of course, but more importantly, not to anybody else, ever.

I need to know this deep in my bones, Fritz. You (all) must be willing to go to any lengths to convince me. You must be willing to shut down the whole fucking company, if you have to, if that’s what it takes to satisfy my need to know that you will never, ever rape another human being — not figuratively, not literally, not in any sense.

Best of luck to all of you!

Sincerely,

The Walrus

 

 

 

 

 

Autism: Best Excuse Ever

I love being autistic! It’s really the perfect excuse for everything!

–Whew! Sorry about all the farts. It’s this new anxiety medication I’m taking because I’m autistic.

–Whoops! Didn’t mean to grab your pussy like that. I guess autism made me misunderstand President Trump when I listened to that recording of him saying ‘grab’em by the pussy!’

–Your honor, the defendant is autistic, and thus cannot be held accountable for the collapse of civilization that ensued when every autistic person on the planet believed his bullshit about autism being the best excuse ever.

Now, we autistic people are just terrible at figuring out what everybody else is thinking, but I’m going to go way, way, way out on a limb here and randomly guess that you are just furious at me for calling bullshit on the idea that autistic people really have two kinds of problems: those that are “really” caused by autism, and those that are caused by a lack of that special kind of abuse that you seem so good at providing.

Well, I call bullshit! Come on, folks. Who do you think your kidding with that? Clearly you’re just envious, right? Or — whoops! — did  the autistic guy misread that?

Oh, come on, just admit it! Really, who wouldn’t want the perfect excuse for absolutely every possible situation in which a good excuse is sorely needed? Certainly not just those of us who constantly need one to survive, right? I mean, doesn’t everyone get to use the ramps and automatic doors that have been installed for folks in wheelchairs? Why should only autistic people be liberated from the burdens of personal responsibility?

Look, face it, you’re just envious because I get to do whatever I feel like doing and if anybody complains — BOOM! — out comes the “A” card, my personal licence-to-weird. Yup, you are positively ready to puke because I get to indulge all of my whims and desires, like getting fired from yet another job; or forgetting to give my daughter her seizure medication because I’m fucked up in the head because I got fired from yet another job; or botching up the new job I finally found because, yup, I’m still fucked up in the head because I got fired from yet another job!

Ahhhhh, this is living. Yes, autism — best excuse ever.

 

 

America’s First Mentally-Ill President

I doubt I’m the first to observe this, but it just occurred to me that in the same way that Obama was our first black President, Donald Trump is our first mentally-ill President.

Now, I do realize this coin has two sides. Heads: he’s completely unhinged and armed with nuclear bombs. Tails: now even we crazies can aspire to political careers!

Yeah, yeah, I know. The guy makes my skin crawl, but the silver lining to that cloud is that the moment Trump entered the Oval Office, he completely abolished this bizarre and pathologically confused pseudo-distinction between so-called “appropriate” and “inappropriate” behavior of which neuro-typicals are so proud, and which keeps so many of us with psychiatric disabilities unemployed, lonely and off in the shadows where we won’t offend anybody.

Thank you, Mr. Trump. You disgust me, but you’ve made the world a lot safer for your crazy-brethren, provided you don’t kill everybody with your nuclear bombs.

 

 

 

 

I Was Gang-Raped by MetLife Employees: Another Open Letter to the People of Earth

Dear Earthling,

I think you should know that I was gang-raped by roughly a dozen employees of the so-called Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, a.k.a. MetLife, my former employer.

I’m guessing you’ll find it super important that I’m using the term gang-rape here in a purely figurative sense. I too would have thought as much, back before I got gang-raped, and especially before I spent months obsessing about the ordeal and trying to figure out what to do about it. But I have recently reached the other side of all that insanity, and I’m happy to announce that when considered from this new perspective, the real differences between literal and figurative gang-rape are simply not such a big deal.

Please don’t misunderstand me here. Of course an old-school gang-rape in the literal sense could be and even most often is worse — even much, much worse. But I can easily imagine cases in which the rapists might take extreme precautions against physical injury, disease, and pregnancy (perhaps by using gloved and lubricated fingers to gently rape a man’s anus) , which would in no sense change the fundamental nature of the crime, nor mitigate the ensuing psychological consequences. To my view, such a physically gentle, injury- , disease- and pregnancy-free crime would be no less a gang-rape than, say, the infamous football-team-beneath-the-bleachers variety.

In my own case, the perpetrators indeed took extreme measures to prevent physical injury, disease, and pregnancy — but I really couldn’t care less about any of that. These individuals nevertheless gang-raped me, in my opinion (for now, at least, and until I encounter the sort of evidence that might change my mind). Much of what I have written in this blog documents my sincere and enthusiastic attempts to find some other way to describe the experience[1], but after months of trying, I have utterly failed to find any other way to put it that doesn’t cause a serious misunderstanding between me and anyone I might wish to tell: you, for example.

Please know that I am fully prepared to endure and respond effectively to any skepticism or objections you or anyone else may have with respect to what I’m claiming here. Especially if you are one of the perpetrators, or a MetLife employee or officer, or a member of the company’s governing board, or a stockholder, or really anybody at all with a stake big or small in denying what these MetLife employees did to me, I am ready for all of you. So please, don’t be shy about expressing yourself or sharing your thoughts and concerns with me.

Finally, as a rule, no matter who we are, no matter what problems we have or ordeals we endure, somewhere out there someone else has it worse — much worse. I am quite certain, for example, that you in particular, whoever you are, at some point in your life, were quite possibly really gang-raped in a way that by comparison makes my own ordeal look like a nice back massage.

If you are such a gang-rape survivor, or indeed anybody else who has had a rougher go of things than I have in Life, and this due to any reason at all; please know that any advantages afforded me by my obviously much lower martyr-status — for example, those resources (financial or otherwise) that I have come to control by virtue of the fact that I am a college-educated white man of middle-class upbringing living in a world that was mostly designed by and expressly built for guys like me (or at least, the ones who aren’t autistic) — I wish to assure you that I am wholeheartedly committed to applying those advantages to the task of making the world safer for you and for everyone that matters to you.

If you have any suggestions for how best to do that, I would love to know about them.

Thanks for reading this.

Sincerely,

The Walrus


[1] For an example of such an attempt and general overview of the events in question, see An Open Letter to A Certain EEOC Deputy District Director.

Autistic until Proven Guilty: More Good Reasons to Blame Autism for Everything

In addition to the Six Good Reasons to Blame Autism for All Your Problems that I posted a few days ago, we might add a seventh, which is that doing so is a natural, consistent, and thoroughly reasonable adaptation to the domain of personal ethics of certain cornerstone legal principles enshrined in the U.S. Justice System and even in the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

In particular, it is essentially an adaptation of the well-known Presumption of Innocence principle that requires guilt to be proven instead of innocence, but it is also an adaptation of the principle that a witness cannot be compelled to give testimony that is self-incriminating.

With respect to the current context, I think it’s imperative to recognize that quite to the contrary of pop-culture exhortations to “trust your gut”, feelings in general are often terrible representations of reality. What could be more common than irrational anxiety or fear, especially for autistic people? As another example, anger can make us feel powerful, even as it renders us inflexible, impulsive, and blind to relevant information (i.e. contextually stupid). And of course, who hasn’t fallen madly in love with someone who can only reciprocate with boredom?

In particular, pro-social feelings like guilt, shame, regret, remorse, and embarrassment are notoriously misleading. Human beings on either end of a given accusation — both accuser and accused — are vulnerable to what might aptly be referred to as delusions of culpability. Of course, delusions of innocence are also possible, and so clearly we should not pretend to be sociopaths, who themselves have a dangerously misleading lack of such pro-social emotions. Feelings aren’t always wrong either, and should never be denied or ignored.

But I think especially when we feel guilty or ashamed, for example, we absolutely should demand that our feelings be confirmed by the facts. Even a quick study of history and current events shows that it is very easy to manipulate someone into feeling guilty or ashamed for all kinds of ridiculous pseudo-crimes — homosexuality, masturbation, witchcraft, being black, Jewish, etc. Once our feelings of shame or guilt have passed the test of being grounded in fact, I think then and only then should we agree to accept appropriate personal responsibility for the events, actions, or consequences in question. I think a firm commitment to “autism made me do it!”, at least initially, is an excellent way to ensure such an outcome.

Yup. Autistic until proven guilty. That’s my new credo — for now at least, and until I encounter the sort of evidence that could change my mind.

And if you think you may have some of that kind of evidence, or any other thoughts on the above, please let me know in a comment below!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Six Good Reasons to Blame Autism for All Your Problems

1. You are actually autistic.

This is pretty much the foundation for what follows. If you aren’t actually autistic, then please find some other excuse for all your problems. Tip: a lot of neurotypical folks seem to enjoy blaming shit on an autistic person. I’m not sure how they rationalize this, because many can see and will even admit that autism causes problems for an autistic person, but somehow they seem to think that it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the particular problem they’re trying to blame on the autistic person they’ve chosen to scapegoat at that moment.

2. You need a polite way to tell someone to fuck off.

People hate it when you blame all your problems on autism and if you do it consistently in their presence they will eventually go away and leave you alone. I’m not sure what the real reason for this is, but if you ask they’ll say something like, “But what if you murder someone?” Now, if ever you find yourself trapped in this kind of conversational cul-de-sac, do NOT say anything snarky like “there’s only one person I’ve ever wanted to murder, but then I realized that I prefer to just watch you suffer.” Rather, calmly explain that you have never murdered anyone before, indeed have no wish to harm anyone at all, and are in fact philosophically opposed to violence. That probably won’t cure them of their irrational fears, but it will at least give your interlocutor the impression that you’ve taken the question seriously.

3. You botch things up royally in some way and have no idea what to do about it.

This one is tricky. In a situation like this, and if you’re anything like I am, your natural inclination may be to apologize profusely and to feel like a total loser. DON’T DO IT!!! Or at least, do not admit to doing this. Hide those guilty thoughts and feelings deep, deep down somewhere in the impenetrable fortress of your most private self. Look, if you pay close attention to neurotypicals (not too close or you’ll spook them and they’ll slap a restraining order on you), what you will see is that very, very few of them know how to take responsibility for themselves. Oh, yeah, sure, they talk a good talk, and will often appear to take responsibility for a mistake, provided it’s one of those small-potato mistakes that anybody might make. But as soon as they screw up big time — commit some really bizarre super-gaffe (a daily occurrence for some of us) — then suddenly they turn into scapegoat shepherds, and if you’re anywhere in the vicinity, you’ll be branded into their personal herd. This is why it is imperative in such situations that you fully avail yourself of that cornerstone of the U.S. Legal System: INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY!!!! And the simplest and most effective way to accomplish this (again, provided that you’re actually autistic) is just to blurt out “AUTISM MADE ME DO IT!!!” or something like that. By doing this you will shove the full burden of proof onto the shoulders of any witnesses.

4. You want to promote thought and discussion about autism.

When you start to blame all of your problems on autism, people are going to feel uncomfortable about it and want to talk about it. They probably won’t want to talk to you about it, but at least they will talk to each other. No doubt this talk will lead to additional conversation about autism in general, and perhaps other good stuff too like responsibility, ethics, equality, justice, and so forth. By the way, this is not why I’ve decided to blame all of my problems on autism, but it’s still a pretty good reason so I figured I’d list it. For my part, I’m just doing it because I’m sick and tired of being held accountable for shit I can’t control. I do realize that people will continue to blame me for whatever they want no matter what I do, but at least I won’t be helping them.

5. You’re sick and tired of being held accountable for shit you can’t control.

Yup.

6. You have problems.

Look, regardless of your particular problems, the fact is that if you are autistic, then at the very least autism exerts some sort of influence on all of those problems. Anybody who thinks that you somehow have two distinct types of problems — autism problems, say, and then “normal” problems — is just talking nonsense. Of course the actual effect of autism on any given problem will be more or less with respect to any other, but one way or another, you cannot escape autism’s influence on any of your problems, whatever it may be.

Now, one way in which autism can influence a given problem is through your own subjective judgments regarding just how much autism actually influences that problem. More specifically, any time you think something like “autism is 40% responsible for causing problem X”, you are most likely wrong about the 40%. Maybe you’re close — maybe the real number is 38% or 44%, but you’re almost certainly off one way or another. But really it’s quite likely you are way off the mark in these kinds of assessments. One’s feelings of confidence and especially certitude are notoriously unreliable in these kinds of judgments. Unless you have access to some objective way to measure the influence, you’re really just guessing, so why not guess that autism is 100% responsible for all of it? To the extent that a problem is trivial, the consequences of blaming it all on autism will also be trivial. And to the extent that a problem is serious — i.e., “not normal” or not the sort of problem that a normal person would have — then it’s quite likely autism truly is the root cause of the problem.

 

So, what do you think? Can you think of other good reasons to blame autism for all of your problems? Or maybe you can think of reasons not to do this. Either way, please share your thoughts in a comment below, unless of course you are seriously worried that I might one day use autism as an excuse to murder someone. If that’s the case, please know that I have never murdered anyone before, indeed have no wish to harm anyone at all, and am in fact philosophically opposed to violence.

 

No Middle Ground: An Open Letter to the People of Earth

Dear Earthling,

I have a serious problem. To begin with, I sincerely believe that my Civil Rights have been violated, and it really seems to me like you don’t give a shit. That’s a big part of the problem, but there’s more. See, when the dozen or so perpetrators who broke the Civil Rights laws in question committed this crime, they simultaneously stole your own luxury to not give a shit about it.

I know, I know. Bummer right? Here you were thinking that it’s not your problem that these assholes fucked me over in the way that they did, and now I’m telling you “er, sorry, amigo, but these assholes fucked you over too, by stealing your luxury to not give a shit.”

Yup, I know, it really sucks. I really wish it were some other way, but it’s not.

I’ll try to explain: see, what I’m calling “my Civil Rights” are not actually “my” Civil Rights. It’s not like they belong to me, or like I have Civil Rights that are somehow different from yours. In reality, my Civil Rights are also your Civil Rights. Ironically, they are also the Civil Rights of the perpetrators themselves — these people actually violated their own Civil Rights! As a result of this basic principle, when they broke the laws they broke, the perps inadvertently drew a line in the sand, and like it or not, now we all have to choose a side — the side of Civil Rights in general, or the other side, which is pretty much the side of Tyranny and Oppression. Like it or not, one way or another, you must choose. Of course, you don’t have to choose the Civil Rights side, but you must choose a side to stand on.

Forget about the middle ground. There’s no middle ground. These fools have stolen it.

Good luck!

PS: If it seems like I’m being ridiculous here, or blowing things out of proportion, etc. then to the extent you are correct, then (in my opinion) it’s probably because I’m autistic. As a rule, the bigger the mistake I make, I think the more likely it’s due to my being autistic (again, in my opinion).