First Christmas Song Lyric Quote for 2019

The song in question will be Weird Al Yankovick’s little ditty, “The Night Santa Went Crazy” and will be posted in several parts in the run up to Christmas. Here’s part one:

In the workshop all the elves are making toys

For all the good gentile girls and good gentile boys

When the boss busted in, nearly scared them half to death

With a rifle in his hand, cheap whisky on his breath.

From his beard to his boots he was all covered in ammo

Like an old drunken yuletide Rambo

With a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye

He said “Merry Christmas to all, now you’re all gonna die!”

Song Lyrics Quote: Molly Hatchet- Kind of Like Love

A man came over just to say ‘how do you do?’

He said something about Texas

But she knew what he was getting to.

And they ordered more tequilas while the man behind the bar

Was talking about a job last year in a town that was not far

When they walked out the barroom, I didn’t even turn around

I knew where they were going to

I knew what was going down.

It’s not a long way from the dance floor

To the dark of the parking lot

It’s kind of like love but it’s not.


The Police Don’t Understand Asperger’s



Last week, I watched an episode of the crime TV series, “Blue Bloods” starring Donnie Wahlberg, (brother of Mark), and former “Magnum PI” star Tom Selleck. In this episode, a young man with obvious special needs shoots the mayor of New York City while at a community meeting. The man is arrested and questioned by two detectives who seem oblivious to the suspect’s Autism. The detectives don’t believe him when the suspect claims that the gangbangers who passed him the gun told him it was a cap gun. Instead, because of the man’s autism, the detectives use it against him in order to get him to confess to trying to kill the mayor. Fortunately, one of the main characters, who is a cop, had met the suspect before and knew of his Autism. Eventually, there is a happy ending where the shooter is cleared and the gang who got him to commit the deed gets arrested. However, what I took from that episode was that the police definitely do not know how to deal with people with Autism.


My story didn’t have a happy ending like that and when it happened, I knew there was something not quite right with me but I had never heard of the Autistic Spectrum or Asperger’s Syndrome or DAMP, which I believe I have. In my case, I wasn’t a suspect but the victim. I had over a thousand dollars taken from the top drawer in my bedroom. I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t I put it in the bank? The story there was about a month before, I filed my yearly income tax and found that I owed the US government $120, the main cause of which was interest earned from money in the bank. My Asperger’s logic was that if I put it in the bank, then the government would steal it in taxes.

I reported the theft to the police who then called me in to take a polygraph. I also had to write out a statement. Before the polygraph, I was asked if I had taken any drugs the night before. Here’s when it went downhill, I admitted smoking half a joint of grass. I smoked the stuff back then, often it was the occasional joint or a little more if I was partying with friends. It wasn’t something I did full time, not that it matter to the cop administering the test. He did ask me what other drugs I’ve done and I had done cocaine a couple of times in my life. Never bought the stuff in my life.

When the test results came back, the detective told me that there were a couple of occasions where I lied. The big one was that I took for granted that the money was still in my drawer the morning of the robbery but on further reflection, I realised that I had only taken it for granted it was there, a genuine mistake. But it wasn’t such a mistake to the two detectives! For them, it was grounds to disbelieve the fact that my money had been stolen. Because I had smoked half a joint the night before, admitted to snorting a couple of lines of coke in my life and worked in Atlantic City, that I must have taken that money out and went to buy drugs in Atlantic City and possibly got ripped off on a dodgy deal. Despite my protests, they continued to press this fact and get me to confess that I had done this, I hadn’t. Unfortunately, it didn’t help my case that I eventually agreed with the one detective that I might have lost my money. That was another problem with my Asperger’s mind, throughout my life, I have been made to feel that I’m always wrong and it was the case here. Still, those cops were convinced I was a drug taking liar. Therefore, the case was never solved, maybe to them but not me.

Another facet with my Autism is that things take a long time to process in my mind. A few months later, I realised who might have taken my money, it would have been my mother’s boyfriend at the time. While, I couldn’t prove it and he has long since passed away, the circumstantial evidence points to him. Still, even if I had gone to the cops at the time, I don’t think they would have believed me anyway.

The lesson to be learned for anyone with Autism when questioned by the police is to not to say anything to them until you’ve spoken to legal counsel. Make sure the lawyer knows of your Autism as they will be better equipped to represent you. This way what happened to me and even the character on “Blue Bloods” won’t happen to you. Because sure as hell, the police don’t understand Asperger’s Syndrome.

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Haircut Anxieties Revisited

After last week’s post, I felt the need to express why my Asperger’s had me so focused on hairstyles. See, I thought I was the only person in history who had any anxieties about haircuts. While it may not be a big thing for most of the world but to someone with Asperger’s Syndrome, anxieties such as this may be harrowing for the person suffering from it. I know this to be true from my own experience and even though it was thirty-five years ago, the memories still remain and leave a sour taste behind.

I had a haircut like this for four years

I had a haircut like this for four years

My haircut anxieties began in 1979 when I enlisted in the US Marine Corps. I knew before I joined that when I went to boot camp, that I would get all my hair shaved off and that I would have to keep it short throughout my entire enlistment. However, I didn’t realise just how strict the Marine Corps regulations were on haircuts and that it would remain very short for that time. Nobody did. Furthermore, I was in the infantry who were strict to the letter on this. It also gave me anxieties over whether or not my haircut was within regulation. Therefore, like many of my comrades, I couldn’t wait to get out and grow my hair once again. I felt that, in my own words, “after four years of this bald eagle shit, I had the right to rebel a little.” It was my right after living under strict discipline while giving four years to my country.

I tried to look like this when I got out

I tried to look like this when I got out

So, when I got out of the marines, that is exactly what I did. I got my final haircut in the service five days before I left and didn’t cut my hair again for eighteen months. By that time, my hair was down to my shoulders but I didn’t care. I was just rebelling from having to be the other extreme for four years. Unfortunately, since it was during the intolerant times of 1980’s Reagan America, most people were unsympathetic. Okay, I never wanted people feeling sorry for me but I know that I didn’t deserve the persecution, abuse and exclusion I got from people for doing nothing more than growing my hair long. One guy made it a point to tell me I looked like a faggot. Then he could because of his physical disabilities, I would have been in the wrong for retaliating. (I should have used this example in my Hidden Forms of Bullying post but I digress.) What really frustrated me was that many people knew that I had served in the marines. Many knew that I had to adhere to strict regulations but it seemed that they just didn’t want to make the connection that my long hair was down to a reaction from that life. In their minds, I was not conforming so I needed to be sanctioned. What frustrated me more was that practically none of those people had ever served in the military, many of those were just out of high school and had only a TV/textbook view of the world I had seen with my very own eyes.

The fallout from this was not only great amounts of anxiety due to the belief that people were judging me solely because of the length of my hair but it began to make me resent my country. Growing my hair once I got out was one of the things that kept me going when I was in the marines. Therefore, when people gave me crap about my long hair, I saw it as if they wanted to take away the very thing I was looking forward to having. It was important to me!

Fortunately, my story had a happy ending. Three years after I got out of the Corps, I went to college in London and found a more tolerant society. At least no one was persecuting me over my hair length and things did turn out well for me in those regards. Saying that, the more painful memories haven’t completely gone away but I can deal with it now, even with people today who have tried to downplay my suffering. I mentioned on one site about all the intolerance I suffered for having long hair, one woman responded patronizingly with, “Poor victim” and something about getting free counselling. A gentleman stated that if my own problem in 80s Reagan America was a few people dissing me about my hair, it couldn’t have been that bad. I had to inform him that he was way off base with that one, he didn’t respond.

That is my haircut anxiety. It might have been three decades ago but it was very real for me back then and caused me a lot of anxiety, stress and suffering. For the vast majority of the world, it is a little thing but for someone who has Asperger’s Syndrome or genuine anxiety issues, it is very important to them and can have a traumatic effect on their lives.

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Remember They Served!


I went from this


To this

Carrying on from last week’s post about honouring all veterans, my thoughts went back to my life after I left the Marines in 1983. While I stated that when I was in the service, I was treated with indifference and even disdain, that carried on even more after I left the service, especially when I started acting more and more un-military. My most grievous crime was daring to think that after four years of having (no choice) to wear a crew cut in the service of my country, that is was okay for me to grown my hair long.

It seemed in my mind that many of those who went to my college, (I should point out that community colleges in America are little more than glorified high schools), knew that I had been in the marines, either didn’t link it with my desire to grow my hair or didn’t want to or just didn’t think it was a good enough reason for me to do so. As a result, I was treated as a ‘freak’ and an outcast for my supposed heinous crime.

Community college wasn’t the only place I experienced problems with intolerance of my hair style. I remember going for a job interview and in spite of my experience, the yuppie (it was the mid 1980s) who interviewed me said he shouldn’t hire me on account of my hair style. This yuppie pretended to understand saying that when he was in college that he had longer hair than me. I told him that I bet that some of that time he was in college with his long hair, was during the four years where I was forced to wear a crew cut defending his right to wear it. He responded that I didn’t have to justify it. Then there was what I call the Reagan Youth. Teenagers who didn’t want to know my story and only saw the hair, which to them wasn’t cool in intolerant 80s Reagan America. I got some crap off them as well.

On the subject of employment, while I had little trouble finding employment after leaving the service, there were some potential employers who didn’t look on my service they way they should. To a couple of these persons, being in the service wasn’t a proper job and therefore I was four years without one. So much for the US military’s claim that it gives young people much needed work experience. It does but not all employers at the time recognized it as such.

These, along with other factors like my college refusing to give veterans course credit for Physical Education, led me to question whether or not serving my country was actually worth it. Furthermore, I began to grow more resentful towards America. I concluded that I had given my country the four best years of my life and was ready to die for it if need be, but all my country gave me in return was grief. People’s reaction that I didn’t have it as bad as the Vietnam Veterans had it and I should just shut up wasn’t the right answer. See, by the mid 1980s, America was finally waking up and showing remorse to the harm they did those men and women who served in Vietnam. But that’s another story.

Where am I going with all this? My Asperger’s mind is asking the same question while I type this. I could never figure out why people who knew I was in the service couldn’t see why I would want to grow my hair long when I got out. In the end, I put it down to ignorance and intolerance. My point is that when someone serves in the military, they should be accorded the thanks from their country for being willing to give up three or four years of their lives to serve. Even more so if they are sent somewhere they get shot at. Furthermore, if they seem a little eccentric when they return to civilian life, it should remember that these people were in a very stressful setting. Like me, these people might have only served for four years but they are veterans for life and should be afforded the respect due them.

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Let’s Honour All Our Veterans, Even If They Didn’t Actually See Combat


Marines Clear Up the Carnage of the Bombing

Before I start, I am in no way advocating that those who served in the military in peacetime deserve the same reverence as those who actually saw combat and put themselves in harm’s way for their country. The men and women who actually risked their lives deserve all the honour coming to them. In fact, I can safely say that no country in the world honours their wartime military better than the USA. Unfortunately, and I’m speaking from my own experiences, America tends to go the opposite way in regards to its peacetime military. Servicemen and women during times of peace are treated with indifference and even disdain.

I served in the US Marines from 1979-83 and during those four years I only had one old man thank me for serving. In the eyes of most of the country, I was scum, a criminal, a druggie and in some peoples’ opinions, no better than a welfare cheat. These people claimed that I went into the service so I wouldn’t have to try to get a  ‘real job.’ Rednecks, who these days proudly display “Support Our Troops” on their t-shirts and bumper stickers weren’t supportive of us in peacetime. While my experience was mild, I’ve heard stories of other servicemen during the time I served suffering worse experiences from rednecks. Even the elite Marine Corps which I served in, they referred to us as ‘boy scouts.’ Further proof was in 1981, the only Thanksgiving I managed to get home for, I went to my former high school’s Thanksgiving Day football game in my dress blues. I was expecting a few strange looks but not as many as I did get. Likewise with the mock salutes. But in the eyes of many patrons of the game, I must have some sort of issue because I was wearing my best uniform to just a football game. I wonder if I would encounter the same thing if I was serving today.

Recently, on the Quora website, I asked why America treats its peacetime military the way it does. The answers I got were food for thought. Historically, Americans have always been a little wary of a large peacetime military. Even America’s first president, George Washington (and second best president overall), warned against large standing armies. Service persons remind people of the fact that we have a military in peacetime. A small few don’t see the need for one. Therefore, they take it out on those they see who are serving their country. While I see their point of view, what I ask is: Is it necessary to treat individuals who are willing to give up a few years of their life to their country with such indifference or disdain? Is it right?

Over the last decade, I have had people actually thanking me for my service and I’ll say it again, I am truly grateful for your offers of thanks. I thank you for thanking me! On the other hand, it shouldn’t have taken three decades and two wars in the Middle East for this to happen. It would have been nice to have been acknowledged for my service when I was actually serving. If people had, I wouldn’t have been so bitter for so long.

By all means, thank and congratulate those who went to war for their country. Give them their just due and more and shed plenty of tears for those who paid the ultimate price. They deserve it even more. But when the wars are over and our service personnel aren’t getting shot at, give them some respect for being willing to put themselves in harms way should the time ever arise again. Peacetime service people deserve a bit of respect too.

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