I thought I was ready to blog, but the post just before this one is a mess, it needs to be redone and it will be redone..
I’ve been through some stress recently, and that stress is thanks to an oreo. A real life oreo. For those of you who don’t know what an oreo is, an oreo is a person who is black on the outside and white inside. Even worse, this honkey is a stale oreo.
He is so full of it that if he got an enema he could sleep in a cupboard. The worst part of it is, he’s convinced I’m a nigger.
I resent that, I resent that greatly. Getting treated like a nigger by anyone, but most especially an oreo is aggravating, and helps me understand what others are dealing with when they talk about how they get treated. I don’t give a fuck if you’re God’s answer to the heart-break of psiorisis, you don’t treat people like shit.
His big problem is the fact he won’t accept that I can be autistic. Autism is for small children, and by some miracle vanishes when they become adults, Hate to tell you this, Mr. Thomas, but there are autistics alive tody who are older than me, and we have our problems. Even when you’re 120 it’s a problem and a damn disability. The fact I’m now 63 has no bearing on my abilityto handle the stress life hands me, and when I’m 93 I’ll still have the same problem.
What do you do about idiots like him? How do you get though to Mr. Occluded that people like you exist, and they can’t get rid of you or make them do what you want? How do you handle a stuck up, perverted, bigoted, biased, prejudiced fool. How do you deal with an ass.
On Monday I’ll be talking with my clinic about getting some counseling, and for a referral to an agency other than the one Uncle Thomas works for. And why do I call him Uncle Thomas? Because that’s what he is.
Oppression stinks on ice, and to deny a disability just because the disabled person happens to be of a race and gender you refuse to admit can be disabled unless that disability is bleedin’ obvious can only mean that you are of the worst kind of racist there is. I’m white and I’m male. That means fuck all to my autism and my autism means I have a disability. A disabilty compounded by being white and male. To such as this oreo we can’t exist and so we can be abused outrageously
But I’m starting to ramble, and that’s not good when I’ve actually got something to say. I can only say is that if you are having to deal with your own Uncle Tom, your own honkey regardless of the color of his skin, refuse to tolerate his shit and walk out. Keep your parting words short, keep them pithy, and make sure they make it clear your disgusted with his hostility. Maybe a simple, “You disgust me.”? He wants details, then you can go into details.
But that’s enough for now. Give me some time to get over this and I’ll be back to producing material of quality. Till then I wish you all a good day, and I hope the only upset you have to deal with is a matter of choosing between ketchup and musterd on your hot dog.