rayinberkeley

[rayinberkeley]

Daddies and a Lost World

Perhaps my idea of what "Daddy" means is askew. Most everything is skewed strangely to me, which is why at the age of 50, finally finding out that I am autistic should've come as no surprise.

I came out 25 years ago, shortly before Y2K was supposed to destroy us all. And by coming out, I mean I finally accepted myself and tried to have sexual encounters. I'm convinced I would never have succeeded before the digital world. Online, men gave me advice. The owner of bear.net cheered me on from afar in Dallas and celebrated my first successes. In a sense, I considered him a pen-papa. Gay boys I think need friends to get them through the awkward firsts. I never met the only ones I had face to face. They need that little gang of pals to get them into "trouble" too. I had to find my own. I was unsurprisingly bad at it.

After my first two attempts of relationships, I still hadn't experienced anything more than, shall we say, "reluctant oral." Both rarely wanted to do anything with me. The second fucked me for my first time but with no coaching, so it hurt too much for me to let him try a second time. And neither took me out to do anything other than see a movie. It was as though they liked how ignorant and innocent I was. My first called me "Angel," but I wanted to be a fallen one so badly. I was tired of hearing their crazy stories, knowing they had no desire to do anything like that with me. And I was tired of movies.

So the first time I'd even heard of a "daddy" was from Shayne, my third partner.

He was a massive bear, Russian in appearance, 6'6" and over 350 pounds. My first date I was so scared he thought nothing would happen until his goodnight hug comforted me. I sank into him. His touch made me feel safe, aroused, confident to whimper for more. So he took me back home and realized I was needing his guidance so badly that it was oozing from all of my pores. We became partners practically at that moment. I moved in soon after out of necessity.

I knew nothing of leather or BDSM. I still don't. He described a lot of it to me, professing to be a leather daddy. He may have been. After a year and a half I still hadn't had any of those experiences with him. Like everyone else, even though I was internally screaming for anybody to show me anything at all, he just seemed to sense I wasn't ready, I guess. Like I said, autistic. I'll never understand this connection people have, even though I was dying to feel one.

But he did teach me a few things. He taught me to bottom. He explained the physical attributes, how to dilate so that it's not painful but pure pleasure, why it's supposed to give pleasure, and even helped me discover I could feel that so thatit's never hurt me since. A lot of bottoms have never learned this, I've discovered. They simply endure pain, I think.

But what I remember most is Shayne breaking into tears on my shoulder once. He spoke of a good friend who died of rapid AIDS. I still don't quite understand how this is possible, but he talked of how the boy was taken in by a daddy, who fucked and infected him his only time of bottoming, not protecting him, not caring for him for anything except a quick fuck. He was sobbing on me at the thought a daddy didn't care about his boy.

This is what shaped what I thought a daddy was. I learned there's a world of people who have some intricate, deeply connected, powerful sexual encounters (called leathersex) and that it consists of daddies and boys. But I never learned more than this from him. He was going through some hard emotional issues of his own. I patiently waited. Not quite two years later, still waiting, I realized I was no longer feeling what I'd originally felt.

But as I moved on, I had a hard realization. I knew I couldn't function well enough to sustain myself, though had no idea why. I knew I needed to be cared for, even if I didn't like this fact. And I knew nobody owed it to me, but that my life depended on someone doing so. I knew I needed help but no idea how to get it.

But mostly, I hoped deeply and with all of my energy, if there really are men who want to be this daddy figure to a boy in need, that I would find one.

I have found this is rare, but does happen, but I never found one.

Of course the examples I found only confounded my skewed mind more. I couldn't find one, but I found incredibly pathetic, much less attractive boys who seem to be brought up by one. At closer glance I saw such a disturbingly unhealthy bond in most of them. Bonds that almost seem nightmarish to me. I'm told it's mutually consensual, but what I saw, I knew I could never endure it, as my abusive past had me too afraid to have my first encounter until I was 25 and ready to explode.

Several years later, I won't even pretend to know what a daddy is. I never had one man who earned the word from me. Not even my own biological father, who will die angry that I never called him that, but who forgot to stick around and deserve it.

Mostly I've been suspended in a state of confusion. I've been to Folsom several times and can honestly say I have no idea what any of it is about, or why it's supposed to be fun. Nobody showed me. I've spent over a decade trying to form any connection in the San Francisco Bay Area, to be a part of that community, and have absolutely nothing to show for it. I joined the Leathermen's Discussion Group and heard talks, been to board meetings, even went to city hall with them where Kamala Harris lead the city's proceedings, and acquaintences in the community asked to form a Leather District in the city (whatever that even means).

After all that you'd think I'd have experienced any leathersex at all by now. I have not.

There's a special vitriol you get when people ask you what you're into and you don't have an answer. I could not tell you. I have so incredibly little notion of what people do together, being so rarely included or invited. I surely couldn't guide anybody into a world whose roadmap has evaded me, and yet I have so many boys online call me daddy begging me to fuck them, and haven't even met me.

There's a crazy sense of whiplash I get from this. The powerfully deep and loving connection Shayne told me about, and a horny little boy who just wants a dick in him from a bearded older figure whose photo turned them on. I can't quite grasp this, so disconnected as I am.

While I'm an extreme case, I can't be the only one, from a hatefully abusive family, desperate, perpetually one inch from ending up homeless for so long, who hopes (but does not feel entitled to, let me loudly clear) someone who'll be more than just a man who'll use my hole for a few minutes. Not in a world as cruel as this. So while I cannot tell you what it means to be a daddy, I can tell you what the community needs.

A community is supposed to be a living creature, and living creatures must reproduce. My entire time being community adjacent, I kept hearing about the leathermen who were of this "Old Guard," but lamenting of its apparent passing. In pity they speak of the daddies of the past, and how their own daddy guided them, but woe is me, my daddy died and there aren't any more.

I'll repeat I don't feel entitled, but I want these eternal boys to grow the fuck up. You had a daddy. Now be one. If I hear one more old fuck lamenting of his passing youth and crying how he's being called a daddy now, I'll lose my mind. Do you honestly think there aren't younger (some not so young, I say as I raise my hand) who would have killed for what you were privileged to have? Do you think there aren't still gay boys thrown out of households? Do you think we completely left that time where we're an abused demographic just because we've had some TV shows and can get married now?

There are so many who proudly claim to be an eternal boy, who want to stay in that role rather than pay it forward. And after the vitriol I get for not knowing what I want or what I'll be into, these who were so guided just hope to suck more guidance and never pay that shit forward.

But when I say that I'm told I'm "boy shaming." Another biological lesson: every father was some other man's son. That's how a population is sustained. You want that Old Guard back? BE IT!!! People who shame me for not knowing where I want to go or what I want to experience (because I've still yet to understand what I see) need to stop thinking we all find our way, when so many of them had the privilege of not having to.

I'm 50 now. I'm saddened by how a word can be so meaningless and misused, when what it means to me is what so many boys grow up without. We are shamed for wanting, needing the kind of guidance that the word is supposed to mean, as though it's our fault men have become the most careless and abandoning parent in both straight AND gay worlds. I long for the kind of kind caring you saw on Pose from the housemothers, from just any man in our plain old gay men community.

I'm just a 50 year old, jaded, scared little man, asking those of you who can, to please pass on the kindness shown to you. Because if you can't see how we're failing as a community, what a privileged life you must lead. And I guess it's okay that it dies with you.

[rayinberkeley]

I like thinky stuff.

Because I like thinky stuff, people who spend all their time watching banal stuff, and yelly stuff, and people moving the ball from here all the way over to there, think I'm a nerd, or the stuff I like is pretentious, because they just wanna not be thinky. Thinky is hard for them.

But I have a brain that's hungry for thinky stuff. The way thinky stuff makes them feel is inadequate. The way their stuff makes me feel is anxious, remembering all the many ways I was pushed around by those yelly, derpy people my entire childhood, all the while I'm starving for thinky stuff.

And yet for so long I went along with whatever they liked just to try to be a part of things. Things that made me anxious and starving. Not once do I remember them even considering the stuff I recommended. Meaning everything was all me trying, and them not really regarding me as having any real value other than as a prop for THEIR stuff and THEIR things.

So I stopped turning off my thinky for their derpy just to be a part of a people who gave nothing back.

Now I have so much more time for thinky stuff, but nobody to talk to about it. That may sound sad to most of you, but it's way better.

And if sad and lonely is better than continuing to be a part of you, you might want to rethink you, and how you treat thinky people.

But I'm more than certain you never will. That would mean being thinky for a moment, and we all know how that makes you feel.

_________________________

I would give money to go back in time and turn this in as a high school Lit paper.

[rayinberkeley]

Coming Out as Neurodivergent

When you're gay, a thousand people will try to tell you that it's a phase, a choice, something you have to suppress, something they cannot condone, and a variety of other things that basically punishes you for what you couldn't turn off if you tried. Because it's something you didn't choose. You were born as you are. And you have every right to be enraged by their statements.

For a very long time I've felt a very similar way when people tried to tell me things like, "Beggars can't be choosers," and suggested I'm where I am because I don't make money. I knew that I could at least get them on board with the first thing, because many of them were either gay or understood that issue, but I knew also that they'd never understand it about my inability to hold down a job or responsibilities. I knew they'd think I was reaching. I knew they'd think I'm "just making excuses."

And yet I felt it nonetheless. A thing I couldn't say, but a thing I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. I couldn't bring you into my mind so you could experience the tremendous meltdowns, the depressions, the complete disappearances and coming-to in a place without remembering how (sometimes even why) I escaped there. And people wouldn't have heard.

Then came my diagnoses: PTSD, major depressive disorder, and that one I still challenge called Avoidant Personality. Diagnosed with the most advanced testing available by doctors at a JFK University facility in Concord, California, successfully defended in a court in Oakland, winning my claim to SSI disability pay. Despite this, I still knew, I could never say this without someone thinking the same things.

Diving further in, however, coming to realize I most likely am autistic, I can actually defend this. Autism is another thing, like homosexuality, that I was born with, that I didn't choose, and that isn't a phase, a choice, something I should have to suppress (although my high-masking suggests on the surface I'm a damned master at it), it's not something for which you get to condone or deny, nor is it up for debate. Instinctively I knew, but if we test this, I'll know for a fact I can say this and can refuse anybody's challenging of it.

I do not have that diagnosis yet. I'm saying it ahead of time. That is how certain I am.

"The day I was formally diagnosed with autism," comedian, Hannah Gadsby, said in her Netflix special, Douglas, "was a very good day. Because it felt like I'd been handed the keys of the city of me. Because I was able to make sense of so many things that had only ever been confusing to me. Like why I can be so intelligent but struggle to leave any proof." (Pause for laughter, and it's okay, I find this funny too, and it TOOOOOTALLY applies to me!) "Why I can't feel informed. Why I felt such a profound sense of isolation my entire life despite trying so hard to be part of the team. And that is a big thing about being on the Spectrum. It is lonely. I find it very difficult to connect to others because my brain takes me to places where nobody else lives."

I've only ever felt like the proverbial "stranger in a strange land," like I didn't speak your language but if you hummed a few bars I could fake it, and faking it is all I was ever really able to do. Because I never really felt a member of your species. Growing up, everyone my age started getting interested in things I simply didn't, rode bikes while I never learned, played games that didn't interest me, couldn't wait to start dating while I stayed alone, learned to drive cars while my family didn't even think about teaching me, planned futures while I didn't even have any such notion of how I could even begin such a task, for college or jobs or such. I just floated, unguided, and with no notion of what I would need next.

Like I didn't get "the memo."

"To give you an idea of what it feels like to be on the Spectrum," she'd said a little earlier in that special, "basically it feels like being the only sober person in a room full of drunks, or the other way around. Basically everyone is operating on a wavelength you can't quite key into ... why didn't I get the memo? I never get the memo. I never do. I've always missed the memo."

I've said things exactly like this to therapists. Some of these almost word for word. Not a one ever even introduced the idea of autism. Not a one. But I do know what they introduced to me, and that was the possibility that I could work if I just wanted to, because in the end I think that's all they seemed to care about. I wasn't saying I didn't want to. I was trying to find out why I couldn't. And I didn't need pep talks.

And don't get me wrong, some people with autism do very good work, and some don't, and the one I'm quoting is a goddamned stand-up comedian who stands in front of an audience (I could NEVER) and entertains them with amazing skill. But it's not called the Autism Monolith. It's called a Spectrum.

I might have done just fine on a job if someone might've understood how to guide someone with autism like mine to doing so, but unguided isn't where I can function. Assuming I'll understand what I need to do isn't the way. Hell, the part time job I shined at, working in that metaphysical bookstore in Acworth, was because Wanda guided me in just a way that worked for me, while no other position ever did so.

And when she was gone, I could not continue it. Not for very long.

Nobody really understood what it was I needed, nor cared, nor owed it to me (save for my family who, also, didn't care). I couldn't count on that guidance to be beside me in the stable way I needed. I probably never will. And without a sense of safety and stability, you can forget me being able to do any damn thing, and that's what I've never really had. Or okay, FELT I had. I hadn't keyed into the wavelength that where I was was safe, even if I were in a place of safety, but I'm not entirely certain I ever was, because I always remember being proved that I really wasn't. And what I hate most is my self-doubt that I'd even really know this.

Without safety, with chaos or a sense chaos was coming, my ability to function crumbles, my mind panics, my entire self melts down, and all this happens while I'm masking the living SHIT out of my inner hell so I don't bother anybody with what's going on inside of me.

I can't turn that off any more than I could turn off that I prefer dick over vagina. I can't make that part of me vanish any more than I could go into shock therapy and turn myself into a breeder. I simply am gay, and I simply am autistic, and I simply have no idea how to function as a part of anybody's team.

This is me. This is my other coming out.

I'm here, I'm neurodivergent, get used to it.

If there's a flag for that, please let me know.

The difference is, I'd actually choose gay. It's pretty fucking awesome. I've seen the alternative, and eww. But I wouldn't have chosen autism. You have no idea the things I wanted to be, wanted to do, wanted to accomplish. The years and years of loneliness that I would've done anything (if only I could) just not to feel. I don't even get the superpowers of autism like Sheldon Cooper has, to solve massive equations and unravel the secrets of the universe. I just get the kryptonite parts: human interaction drains me, connection is impossible, I can't recognize red flags, I cannot keep promises or fulfill obligations, and I don't just go out and meet people without it being a terrifying endeavor.

And I'm just too tired, after decades of trying to fight this, to continue to do so. To paraphrase Will & Grace, I've heard the neurodivergent version of Jack tell my denial version of Will, "Aren't you tired yet?" And I am. So very tired. I can't do this cycle any more. I can't mask and entertain and make people laugh and then find myself baffled why they suddenly get angry when I don't just magically get better, find work, and sustain, or they accuse me of excuses, or just being lazy, or just......

I don't know. I don't understand your world. You all talk to each other in terms of, "What do you do?" and money troubles, and your house or your car or your business, and I'm sitting there trying to not tell you I'm still floating like I have since I was in fifth grade, no work, never really owned a car, will never have a house, scared I'll end up homeless at any moment, having no idea what to do, how to do it, how to hold it together as I try to do whatever it is I simply don't have a map for in the first place!

I didn't want to become this alone. And now it's practically the only thing I want IS to be alone. Because I need now to learn how to be this, figure out who the fuck I actually am without the mask, so I no longer feel the need to wear that damn mask. So that if and when I should choose to try to be with people again, it is by choice rather than desperation and need, and I can show you who I am, without committing those same failures of my past.

But also, because I'm hard for people to take in the few minutes they have to take me, but I need you to know, I take that part of me everywhere, and I find everyone always hard to take all the time. For me it's a 24/7 job to try to be one of you. I'm bad at showing the usual niceties that are expected amongst you, but also, I rarely feel them anyway. Step in my head. See if you feel like saying "thank you" and other formalities when you're in nonstop fear and uncertainty!

And as I already stated, professional tests defended in a court of law found that I can't sustain work. It is no wonder I melted down. What's a wonder is, how I kept going as long as I did.

[rayinberkeley]

Stefon on How to Apply for Housing...

So, with the rising costs of rent and homes due to lack of supply and gentrification of neighborhoods, here to tell us about the hottest way to get off the street is our own Stefon! Stefon, have you a suggestion for us?

Stefon: Yes yes yessssssssss......... if you're some baglady looking to not get mugged, the hottest hangout for you is called the PHA.

The PHA?

Stefon: Yesssssss......... the Public Housing Authority. Also an acronym. PHA, pronounced Fa. Like, "Fa, a long long time to waaaaaait!"

Okay okay, so what's there?

Stefon: Located in the sketchiest neighborhoods of any nearby area, where the deer and the antelope carjack, this place has everything....... rude workers....... that television in the waitroom that just runs videos all day trying to convince you you're just not trying hard enough........ MTV's Dan Cortez for some reason...... vendgits....

What's vendgits?

Stefon: It's that thing of where they make a mdiget vend food to you. You just stick the coins in his lapel.....

Okay okay, but what if you've already been to the PHA? Do you know what happens then?

Stefon: Yeeeeesssssssssss.......... have you already had that PHA lady talk down to you the same way your aunt Fran used to when she caught you peeing in the yard? Then have I got the new thing for you........ it's called waaaaaaaaaitlist!

Wait list?

Stefon: No no, you have to say it like you're entering damnation and you've abandoned all hope, it's WAAAAAAAAAITLIST!!!!!!!!

Okay okay, so what is this..... waaaaaaaitlist.......

Stefon: You tried so hard, didn't you, hunk muffin? Located between heaven and hell and filled with the echoes of tortured souls, the waaaaaaaaitlist has everything: Eternity........ more eternity....... Dan Cortez, who's actually wearing Eternity for men, ironically....... no straight answers from anybody ever.......

You're not gonna do another midget joke, are you?

Stefon: You take all the fun out of everything.

Okay, but what do you get at the end of......

Stefon: Come on, say it.......

I'm going to.

Stefon: Use more tongue this time, cuz you know how I like that.

Stefon, stop.

Stefon: Really wet those lips.......

Okay okay, what do you get at the end of...... the...... waaaaaaaaitlist......

Stefon: You just can't turn the sex off, can you?

Stefon, stop! Not here.

Stefon: Finally reached the end of the waaaaaaaitlist and have this crazy thing in your hand called a HCV, or a Housting Choice Voucher? Still stupid enough to think it actually gives you any real choice in your housing? Well have I got the hottest new place for you. It's called SHITTYittyittyittyitty...... APARTMENTartmentartmentartment......

How did you get that echo?

Stefon: You try not echoing at the end of waaaaaaaaitlist....... it's very very empty in Satan's butthole, ya know?

Yeah, I guess I can imagine.

Stefon: This place has everything.

MTV's Dan Cortez?

Stefon: Not yet. He's still waiting. They're all waiting. They aaaaaallllll..... FLOAT down here.......

[rayinberkeley]

I CAN’T STOP KILLING HOMELESS PEOPLE IN BLIMPS!

Look, if you’re gonna come for me, have more than 3 memes, and word salad, and buzzwords from your dumb bubble, or we’re gonna have fun with you. THIS. WAS. HILARIOUS!!!!

[rayinberkeley]

I fear I'm in need of a couple of these numbers. Please also donate to them. This is becoming more important with the insane attacks on us.

[rayinberkeley]

There’s Simply Nothing Creepier than “Pro-Life” Bitches

Hi, Zelda Gargamel, you little rancid twat fuck, I’m the guy you called creepy. How ya doing? Like I give a fuck. Anyway, as I’m in 7 days Twitter jail because of your mass reporting, like that’s any skin off my back, I figured, since you all said I was "obsessed" with you or something, I thought I'd bring some motherfucking receipts.

You've a nice act on here and all, or a "brand" as the morons say. You harass people and then pretend they're harassing you when they snap back at your harassment. This oh so clever question you kept asking showed up on my feed at least 30 times:

I mean over and over and over... till I got sick of it and chimed in. In which case your mob hopped on and all sorts of homophobia followed.

You see, we all know what your oh so clever as shart question really stemmed from. A notion that women just have abortions willy nilly. In case you don't know, THAT is misogyny. And you are the fucking misogynist.

It's sick reasoning that your base premise relies on somehow a woman's health having to pass some test of debate with you. It is not Pepsi vs. Coke, Tastes Great vs. Less Filling. It's a woman's healthcare, and fuck you for acting like she must pass your test.

Which your mob thinks is me just being "clever". It is not. It's fact. It'll never be your damn business. And more misogyny... oh dear.

So then you ducked behind this adorable little act of yours. That I'm giving two shits about your sex life, when in fact, I'm answering YOUR harassment with the insult it deserved. If you were, you'd be out of other women's business.

You wanna talk about what's actually fucking creepy? It's YOU sticking your damn nose into the business of women at the moment of the hardest choice they have to make. Nobody is obligated to answer to YOU for their abortion choices.

And nobody is obligated to answer your question that YOU think is clever. But you want an answer to your question? Fine, here's some other ways babies are made.

A woman who WANTS children but ends up in a fallopian pregnancy. That fertilized egg will never be a human, but she will die. Ya'll anti-choicers think it's "a baby" and it's "God's will she just die."

Source: CBS

Ya'll anti-choicers even want to force her to have a fucking funeral for it. THAT'S FUCKING CREEPY.

Source:

Self

Here's another way babies are made. Since sex education is out, boy pressures girl, girl gives it up, girl doesn't know that's how she's preggars. Baby will ruin her life. But who cares, right?

National Library of Medicine:  Abstinence-Only Education and Teen Pregnancy Rates: Why We Need Comprehensive Sex Education in the U.S

Another way babies can be made: boy meets girl, they fall in love, get pregnant, then find out they have the same estranged father. This has actually happened. Mostly likely you'd know, since you look like the product of it.

After 30 Years of Marriage, Couple Discover They Have the Same Father...

Another way babies are made? Drunken sex, consentual but careless from poor judgment, and is simply not ready for a baby. It isn't rape, but it also is still not your business.

There are all kinds of scenarios. These are off the top of my head, and there are endless scenarios I can't know because I don't pretend to be an expert, which is why I DON'T, unlike you, rule a judging finger over abortion rights.

After all, to save those clumps of cells ya'll wanna track little girls' menstrual cycles, but I'm the one who's creepy, huh? (Thankfully that attempt failed)

Source: NBC

And even fucking social media is turning women in for seeking abortion care now. But who's the creepy one? Of course it's me, right? Suuuuuure.

Source:

Business Insider

What really matters is, DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!?!?! I'M ENGAGED!!!! (No, I don't know who the fuck you are, nor do I care, and ducking behind that shit was pathetic.

"He's sexuwawwy hawassing me!" you yelled, and your little mob of monkeyfucks all fled in to save the poor little victim. 

First, being cursed out because you won’t mind your own fucking business ain’t sexual harassment.

But you felt attacked? Good! I'm glad you felt so victimized, because as said in my mission statement earlier, you're part of the mob that harasses innocent women, calling them murderers. I want you to know HALF of what your crusade puts them through.

I mean ya'll are some sick fucks doing this to women you don't even know, but you act like I should know, or care, you're gettin' some disabled chick sex action?

Hon, I'm disabled. Crippling PTSD and Major Depressive Disorder. I live on SSI. Don't pull that damn card on me. You having your damn mob of people thinking "woe iz me nobody finks disabled girlz get any," girl, I do porn stars.

Think I’m lying? Don’t care what you think. But:

So you’re getting some. Not good enough to get your nose out of other women’s health decisions. And what a stupid fucking deflection. 

Your act is stale, but you do have quite the mob of SICK-ophants, I'll grant you that. And such a lovely assortment of MAGA and Nazis and transphobes...

Oh, it kept going...

And going... and this was but a fraction of your delightful friends.....

That shit right there? Not even close to the full amount of your little mob that came at me. I’ve had that shit all my life. You got ONE comment at you that made you fucking cry. I want to apologize to you for what I said.

I’M FUCKING SORRY...... i DIDN’T SAY WORSE. I’m sorry I didn’t say something that would rock your entire existence to its core, that I didn’t manage to make YOU experience depression, suicidal thoughts, terror, the likes of which your fucking little sick Nazi mob makes women feel for having to make a choice, or LGBTQ people for any reason. I want you to know a fraction of the pain your kind brings into the world, you skank ass bitch.

I’m especially in love with your minions that screamed at me that there are only two genders. I see what really gets you off. Stupidity!

But of course, ya’ll have nothing to worry about. Not a one of the idiots on that list "violated Twitter's terms" (even though transphobia very clearly is in the list of things you can report). A fact I've documented quite thoroughly.

Source: My own blog

Oh you think I care I get penalyzed on Elon’s newly acquired Bird App? Ain't even close to the first time, and I regret absolutely none of it.

Source: Still my own blog.

Notice that’s a lost account, where I referenced another lost account? Been at this a while, shit-chick, and social media ALWAYS punishes the person fighting back, never the person harassing them.

And we all know WHY they don't enforce actual standards on Twitter anymore. Big billionaire daddy bought ya'll a Nazi safe space to harass and hate with his exploding murder car money. It only cost him a few billion. Worth it, right?

Source: NDTV

He also lost his daughter. His trans daughter, by the way. He thinks it's due to "Marxism" but it's because she's embarrassed by his disgusting bigotry.

Source:

Mercury News

Any decision from this shitshow site is hardly a football for you fuckers to spike. Gladly be penalized a million times to get in the faces of rancid crotched losers sniffing in other women's business like you. 

Because again, you can cry victim all the live long day, but you ain't the one being forced into this shit. You're just the one hurting these women. 

RECENT CASES ON VIOLENCE AGAINST REPRODUCTIVE HEALTH CARE PROVIDERS

Which brings me to another of your posse...

Delilah somethingorfuckingother screamed at me to "stay in my lane" (bodily autonomy is very much an LGBTQ issue) and accused me of "White Knighting." Okay, let's talk about that one.

She's right. I totally forgot all about when the German theologist, Martin Niemöller, said:

I notice she isn't telling THESE men to stay in their lane, right?

Sorry, but you gotta know, after all that prying into other women's business in such sick ways... creepy takes on a whooole new level with you motherfuckers. I mean, and then there's THIS fact:

Of COURSE you want everyone to stay in other lanes, so that the women you want to harass will be alone. While you have Twitter as a safe space to harass them. And SCOTUS. And the entire GOP to stay in their crotch.

Source:

Intelligencer

And who's white-knighting here? Ya'll are doing all this because you wanna save a bunch of undeveloped clump of cells, thinking you're some fucking hero. 

THAT'S White Knighting.

Source:

Harper’s Bazaar

Just like ya'll "White Knight" saving kids from the horror of "WOKENESS!" but you ain't saving shit. You're just hating on those ya'll already abused, blaming them for your own fucked up shit. Tell ‘em, Shea:

You don't care about life. You care about control. A clump of cells has no agency and can't tell you dumbfucks to STFU and go away, and ya'll want soooo badly to be heroes about something to distract from:

Not to mention the shit ya'll do to trans people. You of course think hating on them is some sort of act of feminism. It is not. Trans women are women. You are not, however, cuz you'd have to be human first.

But you're not. You're adored by MAGA transphobes and love harassing women and assuming if they need an abortion they must just fuck and abort like bunnies. It's what you were implying, which is what started all this, Turnip.

So in conclusion:

You're the harassing person in all this. You're the creepy one as well. Your back up mob of freaks ain't covering you from wrongness any more than your disabled card did.

You can't play a victim while victimizing other women. No abortion decision is ever your business except your own.

And trans men are men, trans women are women, and don't need your permission to be who they are.

These things are not up for debate and we will not be debating them. We don't have to answer any questions you think are clever but are incredibly stupid, no matter how many times you verbally fart them. And we DON'T have to be nice to you.

And threats of reporting and Twitter jail ain't gonna shake me from it either. Elon may have tried to make a safe space for you Nazis, but NAZIS DESERVE NO SAFE SPACE.

Now stay the fuck off my feed because you ain't gonna get anything from me but worse than what I said before, and as you did then, YOU'LL DESERVE IT.

[rayinberkeley]

Ya’ll need to give it up.

Hakeem Jeffries has a place in politics, because unlike Bernie, he got the votes and worked with the party and accomplished things for the people. 

Ya’ll going on and on with the Big Lie that predates Trump’s Big Lie, that somehow the DNC not only has this power to block Bernie, but did so, makes you fucking sad, stupid, and shows why we just want ya’ll to go the fuck away already.

[rayinberkeley]

You think I’M the monster?

So, hi everybody. Um, yeah..... I guess you all saw the massive explosion that I got stuck in, that leaves you thinking I'm a giant monster, wishing cancer on a poor, innocent lady who was swarmed by hate from a mob of evil people you think I'm a part of.

Alright, well... no. I’m not. And no, I don’t just go around wishing people die of cancer. You'll probably ignore this and go, "tl;dr lol" at me, but I'm gonna show you some shit anyway. Because there really is a lot more to this than you think. And I don’t mean about what really started that drama. In fact I still don’t even know what caused it. But you need to know, this is the entire exchange, and the reason why I was angry enough to say so.

And yes, you can be driven to that level of anger, and yes, by a poor lady you think did nothing wrong (but totally did).

First, because I just want to get this out of the way, here's a little about your girl Gamma. Some interesting pertinent tidbits in here... because since then, I've seen ALL this said about your girl:

Do I know anything about these incidents? No. I don't know her at all. So if you wanna defend the poor little thing against these accusations, take it up with the people who said it, not with me.

My entire point here is to show you want happened with ME. What drove me to saying what I said, and why I'm not sorry.

I was told it's always wrong to say what I said. Like nobody else has ever been driven to saying something ragey. And that there’s no justification just because I was "having a bad day." Actually my day was just fine. I'd just seen Book of Mormon on stage, enjoying my coffee and a football game, and while upset that five gay men were murdered in a nightclub the day before, I was doing just fine.

Again, I don't know her and didn't follow her. I only know for some reason Twitter saw fit to put her tweet, the one that started it all, on my feed, just like they do a billion rightwing motherfuckers I don't care about. You've seen me scream at Twitter about that multiple times.

And here it is. And this should be enough, because apparently many of you need to be informed of this fact: it is offensive as fuck.

This screenshot was taken as it appeared on my feed. A million of you told me, "Well he started it!" and that it isn't what I think it is. As you can see, whatever she was Quote Tweeting is not visible to me. If I want to look at WHY she said it, I'd have to tap on the quote-tweet and scroll up to what led to it, but I can't do that if I’m "unable to see this tweet because..."

What I see is a woman yelling at a gay man about not doing something for the wrongly imprisoned Japanese. I didn’t even know what Greg she was talking to. Just that she’s got a gay kid, and she’s not homophobic at all and fights for the gays, but...... on the day after five of us are murdered, she wants to know what this one gay person named Greg did for Japanese internment.

What. The. FUCK?

What I don't understand is, how do you even justify this? You all had a chance to tell me why it's justified and you instead chose to yell at me. I could get no answer from any of you other than rage and stupidity, and I damn sure didn’t get anything from her.

Are you not aware why it's offensive? 

Would you listen to me if I told you? 

Because I'm going to tell you.

Tit for tat, she says. On the day after five murders of gay men, somehow gays were supposed to, "tit for tat" do something about..... what? Something from a century ago? So random. So off the wall out there, and I'm hardly the only one to think so. Lots of people expressed how bizarre this was:

This has the smatterings of the incident recently with Sarah Silverman. You may remember, as it JUST HAPPENED RECENTLY (unlike Japanese Internment from FDR) that Silverman accused people of not saying anything about Kanye's antisemetic remarks, and she was demanding we do so. You all swarmed her, as did I, that she must not have been following good folks if she hadn't seen the outrage Ye received. Not just then but for quite some time now.

But for devil's advocacy, for no reason other than to demonstrate a point, let’s just say: what if nobody WAS saying anything about his antisemetic remarks? She'd have been right to say so. She's not, cuz we did, before you have a kneejerk reaction to that. My point isn't that. My point is that at least she’d have a point if she were right.

What Gimble (or whatever her name is) said... was worse. Way worse than Silverman’s statement. No, not just because Japanese Internment wasn't nearly so recent. But because there's no way for her to be right even if no gays did anything about Japanese internment.

Why didn't we gay men just put on our thparkly little thuperhero tights and rethcue those poor Japanese a century ago? I want you to think about that for a second. Why didn’t we?

(And one of you decided to come at me and go, "Um excuse me, it wasn't a century ago. It happen in the 1940's which is less than I DON'T GIVE A FUCK, CHAD.)

But no, just why?

Well it might be because WE WERE IN FUCKING HIDING!!!!!!!!!! This little point didn't occur to a single one of you as to why what she said was INCREDIBLY FUCKING OFFENSIVE? Not a single one of you?

Gays were in terror, hiding in speakeasies, drinking watered down cocktails that the mafia sold us because those were the only places we could feel slightly safe. How do you all not know this? Our hangouts would be raided by police with batons, who'd then shove us into the back of police trucks, all while reporters would shove cameras in our faces to catch the fags. We had to try to hide our faces with handcuffed hands, because if our face was recognized our entire life was ruined. Because the people of America were shown such wonderful things about us, that we were praying on little boys, much like we're being attacked and labeled as "groomers" every single fucking day now. We are under attack RIGHT NOW, not just by murders like at Q or at Pulse, but by nonstop rightwing radio and media, and with legislation and groomer propaganda. Right now. Not (slightly less than) a century ago. Oh, even the raiding of gay bars wasn't just a thing of last century. Ask the Atlanta Eagle. Oh you can't. It was shut down.

You wouldn't hear George Takei blame gays for not rescuing him from that camp. Maybe you should have a talk with him about it.

Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is wrong with all of you that you didn't see how offensive that was? 

Oh, but you ALL screamed at me, that’s not what she MEANT!  And "She's not homophobic, how dare you say that!" except I didn't. I don't reach for low-hanging fruit like that, and I don't need yet another motherfucker telling me she didn't mean that, because there it is, her saying exactly that, and her demanding some fucked up "tit for tat" from a gay man.

Yes, she did, motherfucker, it's right the fuck there and stop saying it isn't.

But you think she’s being “attacked” and “for no reason”? I don’t even know why I’m cropping the person’s name out who said this, because he damn sure didn’t give ME any courtesy:

You all instead kept yelling at me that I can't be offended by that. Every one of you would have said, at least at one point in your life, that you don't get to tell someone what can and cannot offend them, and yet you DON'T afford that to me. You do realize that, don't you?

No. Apparently I've no right to tell her that horrible thing I did, no excuse, no reason could possibly justify it. I’m not trying to justify it. I’m explaining why I said it. Because you all think I just right out told her to die of cancer ‘for not reason.” You DO know I didn't just say that, right? 

No, in fact my reaction was simply this:

It could've ended there. She could’ve recognized that I was offended, if she’d had any sense that what she said might’ve been even remotely wrong, or at the very least come across wrong to others. If she’d been thinking about anybody else’s sensitivities. (I remind you in the tweets above she had no sensitivity to the man with PTSD wanting a trigger warning). 

But instead of that, she had to go and do this:

I don’t get why I’m not allowed to see my own tweet, but it’s my tweet she’s quoting there. As she makes a joke out of this whole thing.

And that's where things really began. You see, you should all know how Twitter works. You can reply easily enough. She could apologize. She could explain she didn't mean what she said that way. Or..... you can quote tweet someone so as to say, "Hey everybody, look what this person said to me!" because you wanna fish for attention. 

And that, I hope you realize, is exactly what she did. As you can see, she quote-tweets my comment, which was supposed to be, "Take your tit and go" except my phone keyboard decided to "autocorrect" it to tits by adding an s. Having already outraged me, instead she's all, Hey everyone, look what he said to me, How do I take them off? LOL... like this is a fucking joke to her.

Alright, well..... if she wants to talk about removable body parts..... I just suggested she do whatever she did to detach her brain before she said that offensive as fuck thing she did. And.....

Hey everybody, look what he said! Those are words! LOL... laughy emoji!

Does it look like she’s someone who cares a damn about other people? It sure as fuck doesn’t to me. I’m obviously gay, it’s obviously the day after the murders, and she’s obviously making all the fun about how outraged I am at her comment.

And I’m outraged at her “for no reason at all.”

This is the second time she pokes the bear that she’s already just offended. And now, I'm fucking livid. So, “Becky with the fucked hair” (and no, I’ve no fucking idea why her hair looks so fucked, and I don’t CARE!)

One more poke, and this one with an added attempt at acting like, “I’m on base!” cuz of some victimhood thing she pulls out of her ass. Now, she's already hidden behind her gay kid which is despicable enough. 

I have a gay kid so I can't possibly be homophobic, BUT...

You all know what it's like when someone says, "I'm not racist, but..." and this was no different. And apparently she said this about Japanese internment because she claims some Japanese heritage, so she's using that as well. Now she's using chemo, like I’m supposed to fucking know that about her.

And I've had my last ounce of chill at this point. Cuz she’d do anything to protect gays, except you know, not joke about them after murders. NOW I drop my rage bomb. I don't JUST say horrible things to poor, poor women. I have to be driven very, VERY far before I'd lose my shit like that, and she took me all the way there:

And I blocked her. 

Okay, NOW I'm having a bad day. 

So no, I didn’t just tell her I hope she dies of cancer because I’m a big careless misogynist meanie and a monster. I was pushed there. And I am not some fucking child that needs your reprimand about what you don’t say to people. Especially people too stupid to see why I was offended. 

Don’t fucking insult my intelligence.

By this point, I wouldn't give a shit if she tried to tell me she has a week to live. I'd have probably said Then speed it the fuck along, because as far as I'm concerned, this person, I don't even know, is yet another Twitter troll who'll throw up anything to excuse their shitty behavior. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You've seen them. First name bunchanumbers, jumps in, says something that pisses you off, and no matter what you come back with, they throw up something they make up, entirely out of their ass, to insist you “assumed” something about them, and finish off with an obligatory “lol” instead of punctuation. They always try to disarm you with random and irrelevant shit, and you know anybody can say anything on Twitter. And it’s already real clear to me, she’s not taking anything seriously.

So I don't even fucking CARE. And I shouldn't have to. Because this was some serious bullshit. And if you can't see that, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Did I overreact? Well you would probably think so because this woman, who kept quote-tweeting me for your attention, had just been given the MOTHERLODE of sympathy-getters to get all she wanted from fools like you, who wouldn’t even give it a second thought to condemn me. Why? Cuz I lost my fucking shit, and I couldn’t even think straight. The crime is not that I said it, but that she got me there. 

But you don’t care, cuz she shows you, you saw red, and she gets exactly what she wants. Ta dah! This is how Karens work.

If I have one more finger-wagging, pearl clutching, self-righteous person come at me with, "Now Ray, you don't wish someone dead of cancer!" like I don’t fucking know you don’t, I was gonna fucking lose my goddamned shit worse. I particularly like "Do better!" Better? Okay fine, she can die of cancer AND the clap. How's that for better?

As you can see, I’m not sorry. I didn’t ask for this shit.

All the excuses ya’ll made for her! I got to see them and they were so insane. Oh but that's not what she meant, you said, and But HE started it (whoever HE is), and my favorite: But the poor thing was just being swarmed! 

Oh please. Hello, welcome to fucking Twitter. You have all participated in swarming people who say offensive shit, yet you’re clutching your pearls cuz I wasn't nice to her for saying whatever the fuck that was? Nothing justifies what she said. And it doesn't even have to be JUST that she said it on the day after five gay murders, but also that she not once, not twice, but three times tried to use me for her entertainment. She was using me for cruel fucking jollies. Do you not see that?

And don’t act like saying that is new just because lady tears activated your heart strings. Do you have any idea how many of these Bernie-or-Bust little brats have told me they hope I keep smoking my cigars and die of cancer? Did any of you defend me? No, and I didn’t need you to.

Did any of you have anything at all to say about the esteemed “Mr. Weeks”?Maybe you don’t know, because I didn’t cry and beg for your attention. But he blocked me and told me to STFU because he's offended by the word "cisgendered," and when asking what it even meant, I simply told him the Latin meaning, and why it's really no different than "HETEROsexual." Well to let you know, he and several of his followers insisted (and these are not my words)  that their Black ass don't need no more words stamped on them, sending actual trans people on here to feel absolutely abused. I was there for them, but I don’t remember a single one of you. 

We LGBTQ truly cannot trust any of you.

Ya'll saw what you wanted to see, and just snapped right into your little narratives about men being monsters to women, and tossing me right on that pile without hesitation. And I might expect that from people who know nothing about me. But those of you who coddled her, ignored her offensive as fuck thing, and fell for the Karen tears, I have to say, I honestly thought you knew better.

Oh yeah, and I saw a certain lesbian activist's little diatribe about "toxic white gays" and their misogyny, and how they use the term "Karen" wrong as though they don't know what it means. I mean you had to fall right into your little script of your hate for the gay boys, didn't you?

Gurl please. See if I don't know what a Karen is. 

A Karen is a woman who throws herSELF onto the hood of your car and then screams at people, "He's trying to run me over!" to get sympathy and bring unjust harm onto the accused. A Karen pokes a bear and then tries to get you to hate the bear because she got her ass bit.

I've even said, a time or two, that while the blood of Jesus is supposed to wash away your sins, the tears of a Karen washes away your humanity in the eyes of the fools who fall for her shit.

Goombah, or whatever her name is, cried her little Karen tears and showed you all what I said, supposedly for no reason at all, and not a one of you saw any humanity in me whatsoever. No reason to hear a word I said. No reason to consider my case when I provided receipts. No reason to wonder why I might have said it. Just run to comfort the poor little thing that the big meanie attacked for no reason at all. How could she possibwy be wrong in any way at all? Why, she was just being all innocent and defenseless and minding her own widdle business, and along came one of those tOxIc wHiTe gAyS, right? Who needs to know any more? I don't have feelings. I am not allowed to be offended. I'm nobody. Toss my ass in the garbage and go help the crying little thing. Guilty because well I just am and that’s all there is to it.

Hopefully you understand, that's how she treated gay men the day after the murders, and the rest of you gave us, in this supposedly evil mean monster swarm you all told me about, exactly zero consideration. Exactly zero agency. Exactly zero humanity. Zero benefit of doubt. Zero reason to care at all that she just said, and yes she fucking did, that gays should "tit for tat" have done something about Japanese internment in the 1940s as though that’s perfectly okay to say.

Every. Single. One of you.

I honestly cannot believe how, in a split second, in a beat of a heart, you ALL fell for this shit, and my entire standing goes up in flames. That’s fucked up.

Gays are always used by straight women who want safety, and then when they’re done we are disrespected, and so damned disposable that even those of you who should know better toss us aside the second we're not useful. Oh hello, it was just a week ago or so that a story came out of a bachelorette party in a gay bar got out of control and some woman bit the fuck out of one of the gay male patrons. I said something about when Jack on Will & Grace said, "Grace honey, I'm not like the other men in your life. I... WILL slap you." Because in that moment I totally would if you fucking bit me.

And oooooh some of you did not like that. And I don't give a fuck. I have a right to defend myself, against any Karen. We have to learn to be. The abuse from straight girls is unfathomable. Some of you might not know this, but in fact gay men are being shamed into giving up our spaces constantly to women because if we don't we're oh so misogynist and mean, even to the point where women are supposed to be allowed (I'm not making this up) to compete in MISTER Leather events, but there is no tit for tat there for MISS. Leather events. You didn't know that, did you? We have a lady Mister San Francisco Leather recently and men were made into monsters if they were against it, because how dare they be!?

Me? I get that gender isn't binary, and I stayed all the way out of that quagmire, because I've already been made aware I am not allowed to have a thought on that. But I do feel for how ripped-to-fucking-shreds some of my friends have been over that. Because like gender, it's complicated.

I don't honestly know how much more I am expected to take before I'm allowed to be mildly annoyed, let alone excused for snapping. Five more of us murdered? Called faggot a two hundred more times? A few more million tweets insinuating we're all groomers? Before I'm allowed to have even the slightest ounce of humanity, that you don't all toss me the second some Karen tears fly, as though all I do is just abuse women all the time, so that the Man-hating Lesbo Lady can have another lengthy lecture to nodding bobblehead people about what monsters we are.

That's what I've just gone through. Thanks to Gumby or whatever she's called, and every... single... one of you. In an instant I still can't believe happened. From a woman who apparently has beaten up on PTSD people before. Remember, I have been quite open about my own crippling PTSD. My own difficult journey not just as a gay man, but as a disabled one, that has me constantly tied up in knots. So that all these little shits on Twitter who call me boomer and wish me dead from cigar smoke think they're "punching up." Like fuck they are. My PTSD is flaring up real bad right now. Defending myself is NOT easy, because every single time I did as a kid, I was abused harder, AND condemned by nearly everyone around me for fighting with women. Because I was male, and my abusers were female--my mother and sister. Never mind I was a little disabled boy and they were older, evil and used that relentlessly against me.

There is nothing more horrific than knowing you can be abused and beaten and have absolutely no right to defend yourself or run. It's why as a child, who shouldn't even know WHAT a complete nervous breakdown IS, I'd had multiple instances of them before I'd even reached the age of ten. I'd feared for my life many times even from a death threat from my own mother. You want to know why I can identify with the terror Black folks must feel with dealing with police abuse? Why the videos are traumatizing to me in a way I couldn't even put into words? That's why.

But no, I'm an unfeeling monster who just abuses women, huh?

What all just happened, condemnation from all of you because of Karen tears, because I dared defend myself, is resulting in a category 5 PTSD maelstrom right now, but you think I don’t feel. All because of your innocent little Googlymoogly, or whatever her name is, wanted some sympathy attention, and every single one of you gave it to her. And every one of you coming at me to tell me, "Now Ray, it was wrong of you!" have no idea.

When I get to the point I’m saying DON'T COME AT ME I don’t say it because I'm a mean person, but because I don't WANT to be mean, and I’m on the edge, and it feels like more internal torture than I can take. I’m not prone to being mean. In those instances I’m actually prone to curling up and crying. The fact I lashed out in defense isn’t because I’m some toxic white male, but that I finally learned I do deserve to defend myself. It was not easy for me to get to that state of self-pride. You did not know that. Now you do.

All I know now is that I can never again trust any of you. I know where I really stand with you. And I guess all this time I've been there beside you fighting the Bernie-bitches and the RoseMAGA motherfuckers means absolutely nothing. I never demanded your attention or "a cookie." I just enjoyed making you laugh and supporting you against those little demons, because for a brief moment I didn't feel alone. I never asked for anything from you. Just being seen as a person meant everything after how I'd been treated by the Right for so long, and then by the Left because I didn’t hate Hillary like they wanted. I’d fled the east coast to get away from my family’s abuse, from Obama haters who threatened me because I had the audacity to say he wasn’t a Muslim who’d behead women he didn’t like (seriously, deep south Georgia in 2008 was scary), only to get to the west coast and see representative get shot (Tucson, 2011), to see my Pride parade sabotaged by extreme Leftists in San Francisco each year, to see Russia turn my side of the political aisle into crazed haters.....

After all that, I thought I'd found safety with you on here, and clearly I was mistaken. I didn't even expect you to defend me. I just didn't need your finger in my face and your insult to my intelligence. I just needed the allowance to have the agency to decide what should offend me.

But you didn't even give me that. 

Far as I'm concerned, you can all die of fucking cancer with a side of butt herpes and some scabies on the side. You know, because all I am to you now is someone who said that one thing that one time to that one person “for no reason,” and I’m nothing more.

Thanks a fucking lot, folks. 

Really thought ya'll were smarter than that.

[rayinberkeley]

DO SOMETHING, BIDEN!!!!!

This Tweet thread of fabulous receipts comes to us from @Qondi, who just did more work informing you what the president and this administration IS doing, while you scream at him to do something. She has done more than anyone on CNN, MSNBC, NBC, CBS, ABC, FOX, OANN, or any other sources combined. How fucked up is it that she has to do this? Go give her thanks. And share this information, because nobody’s getting it from our media.

Link to this entire thread: https://twitter.com/QondiNtini/status/1545527303333199879

Link to HHR.gov document: https://www.hhs.gov/live/live-1/index.html#8089 

Link to tweet with video of Vice President Harris Participating in a Roe v. Wade Roundtable with Attorneys General : https://twitter.com/VP/status/1540013830650183682

Link to tweet with video of Vice President Harris Meeting Virtually with Abortion Providers: https://twitter.com/i/broadcasts/1vOxwyZjBQWGB

Link to VP Harris’ tweet with video: https://twitter.com/VP/status/1534223662403923968

Link to @Qondi thread explaining Executive Orders: https://twitter.com/QondiNtini/status/1545459067791056896

Link to Qondi thread about voting: https://twitter.com/QondiNtini/status/1540376312820416512

Link to thread about how COVID proved we have no excuse not to vote: https://twitter.com/QondiNtini/status/1540442614117302272

See video with Raphael Warnock on the Stephen Colbert show; https://twitter.com/QondiNtini/status/1540760131666837504

Go to iwillvote.com and make a plan.

Because you sure as fuck ain’t gonna learn the truth from the media, who wanna give you controversy and excitement about Hunter Biden’s laptop and white male rage!

[rayinberkeley]

Taking on Twitter - Part II

After that dust-up with Twitter Support, where I tried doing anything at all to get their goddamned attention to deal with how they were fucking up enforcing their own rules, I finally just cursed out Twitter Support all together.

That got me suspended for seven days. And the reason for it was utterly stupid. So I came back and dropped a thread that, big shocker, never got their answer:

I cannot retrieve the picture from this, but suffice it to say, I told @TwitterSupport to go fuck themselves. They then sent me a notification that I was suspended for seven days because, as their site informed me, you are not allowed to threaten someone based on their race, creed, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, etc....

Well, I have my answer. That account was suspended forever because I called someone stupid, who called me stupid first.

Twitter is run by fucking idiots.

[rayinberkeley]

Insufferable...

Tonight the Berniebros finally won one in Pennsylvania. They're all happy they got a racist vigilante to win a primary, so after a billion losses, they're gonna be super insufferable tonight. 

LOL... one little win and they think they’re taking over. Alrighty then. They’d been simultaneously hedging their bets saying he’ll win, AND they’re ready to scream “rigged” if he doesn’t, as well as insisting the world is against the “establishment” blah blah blah...

So I pointed out that we can lose without yelling rigged...

And one of them thought he'd come for me. Let’s just say this little clown boy got a bit more than he could handle.....

So he, who supports a racist vigilante who held a black man at gunpoint and has changed all kinds of details in the story about it, tries this...

So now he’s gonna change tactics and try to say......

I had to retweet him to show everyone what just called ME “cringe’

So he decided to try this......

So bring Trump into it? Okay then....

And so he tried THIS new tactic:

Yeah well........

.

.

.

Here we go......

.

.

.

This is where he got more than he could handle.....

.

.

.

If you can’t handle it, turn away now.....

.

.

.

I’ve warned you...

.

.

.

I’m not kidding...

.

.

.

Okay, but.......

.

.

.

.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!

[rayinberkeley]

Ignorance is Grooming

The entire "grooming" accusation is, precisely as expected, Republicans accusing others of which they themselves are guilty. They want kids to be "innocent" (ignorant) and "clean" (silent). It's real simple. Kids aren't groomed by knowledge. They're groomed by being kept ignorant.

A perfect case study are two incidents I know personally. One brother and sister, and one young boy, both sexually molested. But what's different about the two cases demonstrates the extraordinary power of knowledge.

The brother and sister I knew would frequently accommodate their mother, my good friend Luna, to pagan gatherings that were clothing optional. They were not kept ignorant of sexuality, because pagan beliefs celebrate sexuality quite openly, and so they asked about it and their mother told them all about their own bodies, where babies came from, and even quite openly about me, their gay friend, and how different sexualities exist.

  Sadly, and nowhere near our gatherings, she had a friend babysit for her and he turned out to be a pedophile. We were all devastated when we found out, but the point is that we found out. Both kids, without feeling ashamed or fearful they'd done something wrong, immediately let people know what had happened, immediately knowing it was wrong. He is in prison. They were traumatized, of course. I'm not saying they weren't. But not by the terror of ignorance. Just by the fact a grown person abused them.

The other little boy I knew had no such notion of sexuality. He grew up not so much in a religious household but in one where the mother was inwardly religious, believed keeping kids ignorant was Christlike, didn't talk about "those things" around children. And at the age of 47, I still have no idea what happened to me, who did it, and still go through months at a time when I inexplicably don't want people to touch me.

  So yeah, at the risk of cliche story telling, that second boy was me. But that's how much I know the difference on a personal level. I was kept ignorant, my mother didn't believe in homosexuality, and I suffered guilt and terror and ended up gay despite her (I blame all that Captain & Tennille music she forced on me).

  Ignorance makes the assaulted child afraid, ashamed, terrorized to speak up, trapped in a mental hell from which they are too afraid to even cry for help let alone scream as much as their soul desires. Republicans want to force kids to be easy, silent, defenseless prey, not protect them. And that's why I'm so glad my friends say GAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rayinberkeley]

Dear Mother.....

Ever heard therapists say it’s a therapeutic thing to write a letter to someone even if they’re dead or gone and they’ll never read it? I just did that. I wrote a letter to my own mother. I don’t know if her, or my father, or my sister, or anybody in my family in fact, are alive or dead. I ran from them right about the time of Obama’s first presidential term, and I haven’t spoken with them since.

But I needed to write something, because PTSD won’t let you run. Not really. And I’m very seriously considering finding her and sending it to her. And ruining her whole fucking world.

It’s long. But it’s all real. And I needed to do this.

____________________________________________

Hi. This is your son, Ray.

I know it's been a while. I've hidden myself to get away. Running is all I knew to do. Staying and enduring things would never have worked. I'd already lived it all once. I endured more than enough.

But the problem is, you take it with you. And with PTSD, your mind relives it and rehashes it over and over, so you really can't run, other than to not stay and have to endure more. The memories remain, to further punish you for what was done to you.

Even now at age 47, my mind remembers stupid details and stupid things that made no sense. But eventually you put the details together and they do.

I'm on disability now. A court finally decided my diagnosis was strong enough. But I didn't have that diagnosis until just a few short years ago, finally getting someone to analyze me to give an accurate description of what I'm suffering. These terms are horror shows, each one of them, but I didn't have words for them, meaning I struggled decades with not one, but three nameless enemies:

F43.10 PTSD with Dissociative Symptoms of Derealization F23.2  Major Depressive Disorder, severe, with anxious distress F60.6  Avoidant Personality Disorder

Those who understand these terms would, and have, told me they are severe. They are not to be taken lightly. Did you know I was trying to describe these symptoms of what I was suffering to the principal when I was still in elementary school? That is how long I’ve fought them. But I was a child. There was no way for them to know I was explaining PTSD flashbacks, trauma, derealization, only that I was a little boy they thought was just making excuses. I didn't have words. They wouldn't have listened anyway. Complete and total nervous breakdowns don't happen to children, right?

How could they know? How could I?

My memories bugged me. I remember so many dumb details. I remember you telling me, much later, after you realized how much of a liar Holly is, that you told Ruth and Nadine I was the good child after all. And they didn't agree? A backhanded compliment that, I guess, I would've said thank you but it came with the sting, telling me you discussed how awful I was and they thought I was the bad one? Really emphasized how alone I was.

Because, as Holly shouted at me once, I'd written "Kill mom" on something? Another weird memory that jumps out at me. What in the world was she talking about? I couldn’t remember at the time. I do now. A memory made it make sense, and it opened up a rage in me, enough to write to you.

Memories flooded in: how she marched friends in and out of the house, but I didn't really have any. Or know how to have any. How she flaunted her (delusional) popularity at me, in this scrapbook of memories she had been making with them. Pictures. Stupid little things teenagers in their very early teenage years would write. I for some reason remember word for word one of them:

Country sucks Disco will pass But rock and roll will always kick ass

Why would I remember that when I can often not remember what I had for breakfast that same morning? And why was my mind pushing it back into my thoughts? Why wouldn’t my mind leave me alone about this stupid scrapbook?

One with stupid things like pictures of Daniel and Erin. Remember them? Daniel was of age, dating Erin who was early in her teenage years, and her mom, Mrs. Rocker, not approving. I think they had a boy named Zed. Makes sense she'd name it Zed, cuz she liked being weird and she loved the Beatles and all things British. The English call the last letter of the alphabet "zed" while we call it "zee.”

Stupid memory until suddenly I recalled that scrapbook.

This is probably something you never knew. This is going to break your world wide open though. It did mine. Just a stupid little memory but now I know why my mind wouldn't stop throwing it at me.

In that scrapbook were two photos of Erin and Daniel, Holly's friends. In the first photo, they're in bed pretending to fool around. In the second, they look up at the camera, hands up, looking fake-scared, going "ahhh" because they were pretending to be caught by Erin’s mother. And there, on the page, someone had written, to be interpreted as Mrs. Rocker's voice, something like "What are you doing to my daughter?"

And then words that baffled my young mind... because I'd paid attention in English class, and I understood the rules of grammar, and that the order of words changed their meaning. The words were: "Daniel kill."

My young mind thought, what? That makes no sense. Why would Daniel kill? Mom's the one that's upset. Mom's the one with a reason to be angry. Mom, especially a crazy woman like Mrs. Rocker, would be the one doing the killing. Daniel isn't going to kill. MOM is going to kill.

"Mom kill," I wrote, correcting their grammar.

I corrected grammar, and that's all there was to it. Seriously, I remember this now, quite clearly. I remember I was looking at the scrapbook in Holly's room, the bigger of the two bedrooms in that trailer I grew up in. So since she was in that room before you changed the rooms around, that means I was still going to DeChaumes, so I was still in elementary school. Weird how I can piece together the when. That means I was ten years old at the latest.

Pay attention, because that detail is important. That means Holly was 14 at the latest. And I think it was earlier than that.

So if she showed you a page in a scrapbook, and told you I wrote "Kill mom" (it's actually "mom kill") for no reason, just randomly on a page, then something also occurs to me. She would've taken all of that off of the page. She would've taken the pictures of Daniel and Erin off, so all the context is removed, and probably taped something over it. And covered everything up except those two words. And then showed you those two words so as to make you think I wanted to kill you? Is this what she did?

I'll bet if that scrapbook still exists, you could take an Exacto knife, cut away whatever is covering it all up, and find the fake words of Mrs. Rocker hidden underneath. Then you would've seen the actions of a girl not even 15 years old, and how she schemed and manipulated you into thinking I wanted to kill you.

Holly was a manipulative, narcissistic, borderline-personality psychotic, a person of incredible evil and ego. She was who tortured, assaulted, abused, and tormented me with words, manipulations, brutality, until I was scarred so badly that even now at the age of 47 I am finally diagnosed and declared disabled. I've endured enough. But it's one action on a mountain of many. And it apparently did its damage, because, I’d like to think, it’s what turned you into a monster towards me. I remember so many other things. Things that have no other excuse.

I remember Heather Anderson. I had a friend for a few minutes. And she liked to make prank phone calls. But I was never the one who dialed the number. I just participated at her direction, since this was a whole new concept to me. She dialed a number and I mimicked the weird things she'd say on the phone with people. Apparently one of them was the number of Moon, the guy at work you fancied. Remember telling me he knew I'd called him? Remember? How she ended up dialing his number is beyond me. Apparently though, it happened.

I don’t have the luxury of forgetting this. I was a child. And suddenly my mother calls me from work and tells me, in a frightening yet sadistic calm, that I'd better run away and never come back, because if I'm home when you get there you will murder me. You went into detail how you would slice me with a knife, and hide the body, and nobody would ever find me.

I cried, and I ran, but I had no idea where to go. I went in terrified circles trying to think of where I would go, but I was still in the neighborhood when complete panic took over, and neighbors saw me and took nearly an hour to calm me down. And when I could speak and explain, all I got was, "Oh Ray, parents just say I'm gonna kill you, but it doesn't mean anything."

Just another example that nobody really heard me. Nobody ever really heard me, nor ever would. I'd known that throughout the entire time.

But then, we weren't back on Cooper road yet, still living on Trickey, when you would tell me you hated me. This means I wasn't even 8 years old yet when you said you hated me in front of Craig. So really, that scrapbook page didn’t begin it all. It was already well under way. Holly just gave fuel to that fire.

How do you say things like that to a child? How? What possible excuse is there EVER to say to your child that you hate them? Or that you will murder them? Or another thing you’d said: that you can't wait until I'm 18 so you can throw me out on the street and never see me again. Oh, Holly can stay, you said, but me... you can't wait to get rid of me. You said that. It tore me to pieces.

And you think I wanted YOU dead?

Let me take you through another memory. Living on Trickey, so again, I wasn't even 8. I'd seen dad get out of the car and hit you on Trickey road. And at some point we were at his home on a weekend visit, that other trailer he was in, who even remembers where. And he tells me he wants to kill you. He would murder you, and then do some time, and then the three of us could live happily without you. (He tried to deny it in Arkansas, saying I must’ve misunderstood him, but I did not let him get away with that.) So that's two parents now telling me, as a child, something horrible. And how was I to process this? I couldn't. You have no idea how much this also damaged me.

I didn't even know how to say it out loud, but I know this. I know it tormented me. I did not want my mother dead. She was telling me she hated me, but it still scared me because I was a little boy and you were my mother.

He had a friend named Tom who owned all those bars. T's Lounge, Tom's Bar, and of course, TNT. He would take his young kids to these places. And one fateful day TNT was having some big event, with the bar packed with Houstonians, dancing and listening to a live band, having chili and happy hour prices.

And of course, raffles. And what better way to kick off a raffle than to have a cute little kid come up and pick the winning ticket out of a jar? I did it one of those times, and wouldn't you know it, I picked dad's ticket! I did! What are the odds? And the prize was a shotgun.

It was Texas, so I mean, come on, of course it's a gun.

Do you know that all of a sudden I felt like I'd just given my father a weapon to kill you with? That it would be my fault? Oh don't act surprised. Everything was always my fault. You and Holly always made sure everything was always my fault. So one night I didn't know how to act, and you were screaming and Holly was screaming (because she couldn't shut up or stay out of anything) and I broke down, completely broke down, in yet another of a child's complete nervous breakdowns. And I told you what he said to me. About wanting to kill you.

I was losing my mind, because I did NOT want my mother to die. And yet you think I would just write "kill mom" for no reason at all? That I wanted you dead? Holly was able to convince you of this?

Holly? You once told me about how some analyst asked Holly to draw a picture of her family. And there was tiny little you, and slightly bigger dad, and this sad little dot that was me, and this GIANT PERSON THAT FILLED THE PAGE, THAT MATTERED MORE THAN ANYBODY ELSE that was Holly? That narcissistic child, you even knew her to be one because analysts informed you? And you told me when I was analyzed I had almost no self esteem or self importance whatsoever? You think I'm the one who would want you dead because she said so?

Because this is something I don't think you know. I think this is what would rip your entire world apart, and I don't want this memory anymore. I want YOU to have it. Dad did not just tell ME he was going to kill you.

He told us both. She was there too.

Notice if you will, she did not say a word to you. I'm the one who had a complete meltdown over it. Holly, however, didn't care. In fact when he said it and went over the fine details of it, I sat in silence, horrified. Holly, a tiny little child herself, was asking how soon he could do it. When would we be together again? She seemed thrilled. Because she’d be daddy’s little girl again.

You never knew that, did you? You let that girl torment me for my entire young life, and blamed me for everything. But at least at one point you told our aunts that you thought maybe, just maybe I would turn out to be the good child.

Thank you for that vote of confidence, I guess.

And how significant was I? Dad thought you were so awful that he wanted you dead, but he abandoned me with you. You thought a man who would murder you was so bad but you still kept saying, "Do you wanna go live with your daddy?" when you were sick of me. I was so awful that I should be thrown away to a killer. Eventually I said sure.

My time in Arkansas was my second vacation away from that abuse. The first, of course, was DePelchin. You figured I was so intolerable I should be thrown away into a 24 hour institution for kids. And I'll never forget that first family therapy session with Karen Selby, telling me both sides will be heard without interruption, and I knew immediately that this was useless. I would not be heard. What the hell could I even say? In one hour session? So I didn't even try.

But I could've told so many things. I instead sat and was lectured, by Holly, who felt so victorious because I was thrown away into a crazy-kids home, so clearly she won and I was the bad one. And she just talked about how I broke her jewelry box, or her this possession, or her that possession. I said nothing.

I regret only that I didn't break more. Because I was the one being broken. I was a child, and I was being broken. Every day. That place wasn’t filled with kids who were the loser of the fight with siblings. That place was filled with abused children who barely knew how to function. That was me.

They asked why I wrote that letter to that kid that time, the one that caused so much ruckus. One of the many kids I'd been bullied by, because bullies are always able to find abused kids like me and abuse them more. I told Karen the truth. The idea for my ill-fated revenge plot was, in fact, something I saw in the Porky's movies. It was almost exactly word-for-word what I'd seen from that movie. And when we were away from Karen, you were angry with me because you'd gotten yelled at for letting a kid watch Porky's? Apparently all the yelling must be done towards me? And what, I'm supposed to say that letter was from my own imagination? I didn't even understand the words I'd written! And you did let me watch Porky's. The real thing they should've yelled at you for was the fact I'd been bullied and beaten so much I resorted so desperately to any way to defend myself. I certainly couldn't have done it by physically defending myself.

Did you know I wasn't just small and weak? I was born with a deformed spine, three different deformities in fact. There was always a risk one good hit in the right place could've left me paralyzed, but I didn't find out until an X-ray in my late 30s. That part of my spine always hurt when any tension was experienced, but I didn't know to tell anybody I was always hurting, because nobody cared. P.E. class was dangerous to me. Riding roller coasters hurt like hell but everyone just thought I was scared and they didn't like hanging out with the scared little kid. I mean I can't even count how many ways I was judged for things I couldn't help.

I lived the first decade of memory in a delusion known as solipsism. A terrifying way to describe solipsism is to watch the movie the Matrix. I really thought I was in a fake world being punished, and the whole world was in on it. I wasn't even 10 when I first fell into this horror show of a psychosis.

Doctors tell me delusions like that are a person's desperate attempt to make sense of a world that simply does not make sense. Other kids would be grounded for prank calls, but I was threatened with murder. I think that counts.

They also tell me that memory problems like I suffer come from repeated head trauma. I asked them if repeated blows to the top of the head with a closed fist would do it. They said that would definitely have caused it. Guess what Holly's favorite way to beat me was. Go on. Guess. Nearly every chance she got.

And if you think I didn't fear for my life, let me remind you of a man named Donald Lewis, and that fateful time our cousin Cathy visited. Somehow Holly and Cathy and Donald and other friends went out, not even of age, to a bar. Cathy got into a fight with Holly, over what we’ll never know. Holly accused Cathy of starting a fight between Donald Lewis and some other guys at the bar. Remember, if you will, he was found dead in a ditch somewhere that next day? She always accuses others of what she herself did. We went to the funeral home for a viewing. You all saw a friend who left the world too soon.

I saw Holly find out she could get someone killed and get away with it. No, I've no idea if she had a hand in it. We’ll never know.

Donald Lewis is but ONE of the many boys she had sex with. After Erin had Zed, she figured a great way to get all the attention was to have a baby, and she tried REALLY hard to have one. Tommy, Lisa's boyfriend, Leann's boyfriend, all her girlfriend's boyfriends. Holly was an easy lay so they all took a turn. There are things I know that you did not hear about. I overheard so much.

Nick was born because she wanted to use him as a weapon against me. How in the holy fuck could I tell anybody this without it sounding insane? But it became evident the more things passed, and you threw me in DePelchin cuz she convinced you I would hurt the baby. And then she kept trying to get Nick to bother me in hopes I'd lose my temper and hurt him. And she told DePelchin she feared for his life because of me. (You actually screamed angrily at her over that, as I remember.) Of all the boys she banged, the only one with a working sperm had to be Johnny the scary drug dealer. Of course it was! Johnny, who was feared by other gangsters and bad boys. (And, as I later understood, who had slept with and dealt drugs to Aunt Wanda and her daughter Dee Dee both? According to dad anyway. What kind of white trash Jerry Springer bullshit was all this?)

So she tried telling him I hurt his son because, and I will never be convinced otherwise, she wanted to see me end up like Donald Lewis. I was TERRIFIED. And he did, in fact, threaten me. I saw her smile. It sickened me.

I am the one person who never hurt Nick in that family. And his younger brother, Mikey. I wouldn't. And yes, this includes you.

That’s why I left. Now pay attention, because this is all going to make my departure make complete sense. That is, if you didn’t already understand.

I called you from work that one time, and you were at your work, and we talked, and you told me how much you were tired of Nick's troubles. And I said to you that Nick had come out as gay to me. And I knew he was probably in danger and needed you, like maybe contracting HIV if he's not careful, or being bullied beyond belief at school for his sexuality. That made you say to me over the phone, if he's gay you just didn't care any more about what happens to him.

You said that. And I said to you, "Now you know why I've not talked to you."

You took it as me coming out to you. Well, I did, but that's not what I meant. When you can just carelessly cast off a child like that, you must surely know, at least now, this wouldn’t sit well with me. But there you were, doing exactly that. You told me you couldn't condone homosexuality, and it hurts you because parents want grandchildren. Well you have two, one was gay, and you were casting him off, and me. Why the hell should God bless you with more kids?

Yet again, a little boy needed you and you decided to dispose of him, but Holly still lived at home with you, safe and sound, protected. The girl who actually told her son if he turned out to be gay she'd cut his penis off and put it in a blender.

To his face.

In front of a LOT of people.

I mean that’s the absurdity of all this. Remember when Dad moved me in with that woman, Carloyn Dickerson? Her nephew, Rick, went to high school with me. I kept in touch with him on Facebook and he went into the military and now suffers with PTSD from his time in war. He decided to belittle me once, telling me my PTSD wasn't as important as his, because he thought I claimed to have it because people were mean to me at school. For being gay. Isn’t that a hoot?

Nobody had any idea I was gay. Reread this entire letter and you'll easily see being gay isn't even on the top 100 reasons that got me here! And if you think I wasn't contacting you because I thought you'd be mean to me if you knew I was gay, that is just adorable.

After all that, you were all living partly subsidized by Nick's money, I was told. Money that he made working as a gay go-go dancer at Swinging Richards in Atlanta. Guess you can't condone gayness, but you can sure take its money. All that time Holly wanted to get him into modeling but he made his fortune as an exotic gay dancer instead. I cannot tell you how much joy that brings me. That must have eaten you two up.

Truly I hope he's doing okay. I did hurt him once, when I saw him hurting Mikey. I snapped. I will never forget it, and it kills me that I did. Not so badly as anything she did to me though. But enough.

You have not one, but two grandchildren. And Mikey also later had problems. And once again, you were standing by Holly, and disposing him. You call me to ask me to pick him up, not telling him where you were dropping him off because you were going to dump him back in Georgia. Underaged. Unaware I’d be there. So I told you to take him to the same Starbucks he and I went to hang out. I was hoping this would clue him in on the idea I'd suggested it, when you got there, so he wouldn't get there terrified out of his mind.

I called his friends to let them know what fucked up thing was about to happen to him. Apparently they got there and took photos. I was happy they tormented the two of you. I was happy that in this conflict he had someone on his side. I never did through all of my wars. Didn’t mean I wasn’t blamed for it all though, later on, so I understand. Of course I was. Sure I was. Knew I would be.

So you see, this was strike three.

I used the $100 payments you were giving me to get out of there and I never looked back. I dropped all contact. We were done. I was in Tucson long enough to see the political war chased me down, to watch my representative (who I’d just met) gunned down at a parking lot right next to where I worked. Gabrielle Giffords’ office was on my street. I was on TV worldwide holding a candle for her.

When I was still in Tucson I called dad one last time. I didn't give him the privilege of knowing it would be the last time we would ever speak. After all, that thing with Carolyn was pretty much a drop in the bucket of reasons I was done with him. You shouldn't have to blackmail your own father to care about you and let you stay with him, telling him if he didn't lay off of me I would just call you and you could have his wages garnished to pay off owed child support.

But I needed to call him. You see, the things I suffer from, I recognize many of them in him. I mean I don't go around wishing people dead and talking about it to children, but we all know he was brought up in an evil family of his own. Maybe that's how he ended up with you? I don't pretend to know.

I needed to let him know I forgave him. Tell him what it is he's experiencing, that they have names, and that some of those symptoms are not his fault. He didn't know it would be our last talk. You see, I needed to forgive him. But I also needed to forget him.

Which brings me to why I'm writing this. I mean, deep down I'd like to forgive you, but I mean Jesus, how does one do that? I tried just forgetting you, but you see how well THAT'S going.

The best I can do is to tell you that this is what I still go through. These memories. This struggle. My adult life has been me trying to survive, but not being able to work or function, nervous breakdown after complete mental meltdown whenever I tried, sleeping on the couches of friends until they weren't friends anymore, always having to find somewhere new. I lived in constant fear of homelessness. I’ve had seven partners, each less suitable than the last, until I realized I needed to be on my own in my own place of my own power. And that will be a struggle with financial services, Social Security, HUD, etc. that keeps going nowhere. But I won't give up. I have survived too much to give up. I joined a cult to get out of the house and away from you, and it is not something I regret. I mean those people were different but they were some very nice folks who, for whatever reasons of their own, also fell into a cult. So I could relate with them. And they were my first taste of having people I cared about, who cared about me, who guided me in some way. It began with bible studies that seriously forced you to think about who you were, face your most horrible facts about yourself, and take a good look at who you really are and how you need major fixing. All under this stupid idea that every bad thing you’ve ever done is responsible for a man, who lived 2,000 years ago, to have had to be brutally murdered so you wouldn't go to hell for eternity. I mean that's pretty stupid. But I survived those studies. They were like a mental boot camp. They broke me open, made me become a man, made me able to face myself in a mirror. Made me take a good look at myself.

Just not how they'd hoped. See, they want you to feel guilt, break down and cry, feel like a sinful little worm. Usually people in them think they need forgiveness, blame themself for Jesus' torture, pray for forgiveness in tears. No, I looked at myself and realized, he went through torture like I did. He didn't speak when people hit him (according to the story, because chances are he didn't even really exist), and I didn't get to speak when I was tortured. What I came to realize is that I survived monumental torture, and somehow I survived.

I realized, I am fucking amazing.

When I realized that about myself, I realized I deserved love. I deserved peace. I didn't deserve a damn thing that happened. In a way, I escaped death. Not unscarred. But without the worst scar of all: I did not blame me anymore.

I survived off of hate and a vendetta. I refused to give up because that meant Holly would win. It is no way to live but it’s how I had to. I saw people stronger than me face a tenth of depression and mental illness that I did, and several of them could not take it. Friends named Jody, Lionel, Tim, just to name a few, all took their own lives. They didn't have my rage. Apparently it saved me. I sure as hell can't say I am still here because of strength, virtue, or any other reason. It was all because I refused to let her win.

My one regret for so long is that I never once got to hurt her. That seems like an awful thing to say, but she started a billion fights knowing she would win, and that I would be defeated, and I would slink off hurting and suffering. I never once beat her and made her feel the same.

And what hurt most was that I was in a world where nobody cared, and for the most part everyone who had any say in the whole thing always seemed to take her side. She had the friends (notice though, she can't keep any), and she had you, and nobody knew nor cared how badly I was hurt, because back then everyone piled on weak people, because beating the crying kid made him cry more. It was so much fun for them!

I have one moment that finally gives me satisfaction though. A truly weird, vicarious instance of victory. When a child is bullied, and the world turns on the bully, that makes me feel fantastic. It finally happened.

Remember? She would always get her words in, and when I tried to speak, she would shout over me and interrupt me so I wasn't heard at all, and then you would just yell, "BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!" Which is what she wanted you to do. Then it was over and she won and I was never heard. Remember that?

I saw man who had suffered with a stutter as a child, grow up to be a world leader, stand in a presidential debate with another Narcissist bully by the name of Donald J. Trump (and I do not thank you giving me the same first name as that evil piece of shit). He interrupted Biden, belligerently, poking at him until all Joe could say was, "Would you shut up, man?"

I would yell shut up to Holly and she would go into: "I won't shut up, I don't shut up for 'shut up,'" which is bullshit because she wouldn't shut up because she's just fucking incapable of ever shutting the fuck up.

I could not watch the debate. I had to go outside, walk, breathe, as every fight, every screaming match from memory flooded back to me. But I got to see the world respond. The world watched that debate. And the world was horrified, outraged, disgusted at how Trump bullied him. Many who were also abused found themselves similarly tormented by memories of their abuse. I was not alone in this. And the world told me this was not okay.

Okay yeah he has some rightwing assholes on his side, but everyone with any sense of a heart, the majority. 81 million more voters, in fact. I never got that from you. Thankfully I no longer need it from you. I have it from 81,268,924 voters, all saying this was not okay, and sending that piece of shit back to Maralago. And I have it from myself, saying to myself, with every ounce of certainty a person could possibly have, it was not okay. I did not deserve any of that.

I am fucking amazing, and you never got to know me.

Remember how that felt, I feared people wouldn't see Biden, but would only see him as he responded to Trump. Trump filled the entire room with himself so nobody else could be seen, just like Holly always, always did. (Come on, tell me I'm lying. Tell me Trump isn't Holly but with a tiny little mushroom penis. They are the same fucking person.) You never got to know ME. You only knew me or heard me as I was responding to her, filling the entire house with herself and snuffing me out so that all I could be was a person responding to HER.

You don't know me. You never got that privilege. I am fucking amazing. And I will stay that way, over here, way away from the two of you, struggling what I have to struggle, fighting what I have to fight, and never again being in one of those moments where I see you two doing the same shit to yet another child.

I amazing, and you wasted your life instead with the girl who didn't give a shit whether or not you were killed by dad. Nick is amazing, but you chose the girl who threatened to Cuisinart his penis. Mikey is amazing but you dropped him in the middle of nowhere because he hit her once, and let me just tryyyyyy to muster up a single tear for her being the one getting hit, FOR ONCE.

Despite my challenges, I’ve traveled to Europe twice, seen things in this country and abroad I never could have dreamed, participated in things that would boggle the mind, and have been admired and loved by several in ways I never thought I’d ever know. I’ve lived in several states, met amazing people, witnessed things that you couldn’t even guess at. I’ve flown over the north pole, looked down at Greenland’s amazing beauty, splashed in nearly every ocean, learned how to look up at the night sky and identify virtually every constellation, and well….. I know it’s supposed to be the sign of someone who doesn’t “have a life,” but if Jeopardy comes on, and I never miss it, I can answer so many of the clues. I have personally known four different contestants (one of them dropped me off when I came home to Emerson that time from Kentucky in fact….. probably the only contestant ever to put Alex Trebek in a headlock to demonstrate his love of wrestling, although I’m sure he didn’t tell Alex he enjoys erotic wrestling). So much for that being not having a life, huh? I can converse about nearly anything and leave people laughing and wondering and questioning things they never thought about.

You wasted your lifetime instead with the other child, the most disgusting, manipulative, narcissistic piece of shit that ever walked the earth second only to Donald Trump, and you listened to her yammer on endlessly about the importance of her oh so saintly work at Taco Bell, or act like she wrote some words on a paper and that somehow makes her a great songwriter.

You cheated yourself from ever knowing ME. I am not the one who wanted you dead. I am the one who couldn’t stand the thought of it so badly that I suffered internally. I am an amazing person. And I became amazing all on my own. And it was a terrifying journey to have to take on my own, but it would have been a thousand times worse had I stayed.

I just needed you to know that.

I think I just needed you to know, in however much a few pages could possibly accomplish it, who I was. Who you missed knowing. And maybe, just maybe, I can get these memories to stop bothering me.

But even if they won’t, I will still survive and I will still be an amazing person. And in this brutal, sickening contest with her, that I never asked to be in, I want her, and you, to always know this:

I won.

[rayinberkeley]

Twitter has Standards..... April fools!!!

That’s what they say, anyway. The deleted Trump’s account (well after he’d done a ton of actual damage), and Marjorie Three-Toes, and every now and then someone else, at random, but only when forced.

Did you know I called someone a honky one time and lost an entire account  with about 1,000 followers forever, with zero chance to challenge the ruling? Apparently some fragile little white fuck who was being super racist reported me for it, and Twitter’s like, don’t you worry little white man, we’ll protect you!

So, yeah, they’ve even updated their reporting system (rolling out to accounts but not all have this update), and it’s very easy and user friendly. Takes you step by step through what, very specifically, you are reporting:

So you see the things I’ve checked. Would you like to know why? Because amazing as fuck Amy Schneider, from Jeopardy, the trans woman who won over $1.3 million and scored 1600 on the SAT went to the White House.

Yeah, you can imagine what kind of replies haters brought. You don’t have to. I’ll show you:

That is absolutely, 100% misgendering, which Twitter, in their reporting process, says is something they won’t permit because they have standards. The result, after a day?

Yeah. In addition:

But.....

I’ll keep updating as more roll in.

And this one is a real confusing one, because who the fuck was trying to say gay men are mommy and daddy?

You’re lying right the fuck now. 

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???????

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!?!

I seriously lose my fucking shit.......

And...........

I wanted to see if they’d even ANSWER to their hypocrisy:

Apparently asking them to answer for it is what they won’t tolerate.

Twitter needs to get its shit together and it go fuck itself until it does. All of a sudden, after finally being let back on Twitter, they ban ME for seven days over this:

Here’s the thing though. I’ve threatened NOBODY on the basis of "basis of race, ethnicity, national origin, sexual orientation, gender, gender identity," etc. but have, in face, expressed OUTRAGE at Twitter Support for their outright failure to do ANYTHING about people who have been harassing transgendered people, or at a guy screaming the N-word, but instantly knock me off their site over “honky,” like white people need soooooooo much more protecting!

What the fuck, Twitter? WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?!?!?!!?

[rayinberkeley]

Don’t Believe Everything You Meme

Sigh...... okay, memes are fake. They are NOT how you lay out a policy. So let’s take this own down a peg:

 I get the energy and sentiment, and it plays well on ignorant ears, but this meme has LOADS of problems.

First, the worship of Guy Fawkes. Don't get me wrong. V for Vendetta was a great film and I love the Wachowskis like you cannot know. But what they used was for England, and I don't entirely understand England's desire for Fawkes to be a hero. He is a fake hero. He wasn't trying to blow up the House of Parliament for some grand goal of an egalitarian society full of truth and justice and pet unicorns for everyone. He wanted to overthrow the government so the Catholic Church could rule over it, and I'm more than sure all the ones wearing that mask wouldn't enjoy a return to that level of theocracy.

I mean seriously, how real is a theocratic society? That Catholic society is full of uptight housewives with dirty secrets trying to root out everyone else's dirty secrets. Their food is a cracker they think magically turns into flesh. And look what THEY do with their money. Not feeding the poor, that's for sure. There's a reason their opponents were called PROTESTANTS. Luther protested the fakest society of all.

But we have built a society of choices that people make, and I hate many of the choices they make, but they are making them. They want fake people on TV. I am so sick of "reality TV" but ya'll keep watching it, and that's on you. Not on some big boogeyman called "Capitalism," a monster that hides under your bed and makes all bad things happen, as I keep hearing the C word being used.

We constantly give healthier choices for food, and they don't sell. No, don't go into how unhealthy is subsidized and healthy is not, because it simply does not sell, and they subsidize what they know people will want and eat.

And money is a standard of trade. Bartering isn't the just and perfect system you think. It is an exchange, and will follow the same problems as monetary exchanges, such as supply & demand, cheating, scams, the major difference is money adds a measure by which anybody can be recorded and held accountable for such exchanges. Yes, I wish we were better at it, but if we suck at this, we'd suck at bartering accountability too.

It's all nice and good to blame every problem on something, until you come to the simple fact that it's not the boogeyman capitalism that makes you all make bad choices. It's you. And it's not some burn-it-all-down revolution that will fix the issue, considering the horror shows that always fill such a vacuum. It's a government that governs, that you get involved in, and people would rather hate the government and just wanna burn it all down in a damn revolution than to do the work and be a responsible person studying the actual problems and sensible solutions, because rage feels good.

As the meme I saw goes, "Who wants change?" Everyone raises their hands. "Who wants TO change?" All the hands fall. "Who wants to lead the change?" All the seats are empty as everyone runs from it.

We have to do better. And lemme tell you, we had a good chance, but scapegoating was more fun, and people were duped into hating one woman, Hillary Clinton, than they cared about the actual, sensible solutions to these problems.

Mic.... dropped.