Drug Store Truck Driving Man

I need to go out.

The electric bill is overdue and the red letter has arrived. I need to go to the doctors too. In fact, I need to see a doctor more than I need to pay the electric.

But I'm too scared to go out.

My next door neighbour wants to fight me. He's a drug-store truck-driving man and wants to kick the shit out of (perhaps kill) the benefit scrounging scum his tax pays for.

One must never equate anything with the nazis..

Kaliya Franklin wrote yesterday of how

”The Welfare Reform Bill is not to be equated with Nazism, nor is it in any way appropriate to suggest the actions of any British politician are similar to those of the Nazis.”

The second however, is crap

 I'll grant K the first part; the second however, is crap and is called out as such, in the comment from Socrates

Volksgenosse, das ist auch Dein Geld!

“What is the qualitative difference between “Volksgenosse, das ist auch Dein Geld!”  and the recent headlines in the Daily Express and the behaviour of the Government ministers behind them?... 

Your assertion of 'no equivalence' is realpolitik sitting in the middle of the M1 waiting for the inevitable.”

The terrorism of the Sturmabteilung

What is the difference in the terrorism of the Sturmabteilung and the behaviour of the יוק that makes my life so frightening? For me there is no practical difference - the hostility is state-sanctioned and deliberate, the police unsympathetic and as likely to join in the fun as defend the victims.

Things have got worse

Today Scope releases the results of its quarterly survey of the views of the disabled, their parents and carers and they say

66% of disabled people say

Four months later, the survey suggests things have got worse:. 47% said people’s attitudes towards them have got worse over the past year. 66% of disabled people say that they have experienced aggression, hostility or name calling...

Government ministers are deliberately defaming people like me to make their benefit cuts easier to implement.

The newspapers trumpet their filth 

The newspapers trumpet their filth and as a result people like my next door neighbour are more likely to harass and assault people like me.

Iain Duncan Smith Dr. Walter Groß said recently in the 1930's

We recall the days of delirium, when millions of unemployed had been thrown on the street by a sick political and economic system, made superfluous.

A single person pried the tracks apart and derailed a train in the middle of the night. Within a minute he murdered 30 innocent people who had never done anything to him, and stole their money.

And what did the world of yesterday say? “He can’t help himself. He is a victim of circumstances. He has Beethoven’s hands and an artistic temperament. We need not put him on the gallows or in prison to protect us and our children.

One must NEVER equate anything with the Nazis. Ever. Period.

No, this poor Schlesinger is only sick because of his environment. Put him in a modern sanitarium, give him what he needs: radio, a library, a smoking salon, a language teacher, a pastor, a newspaper room, give him everything he needs to put him in touch with better things.

In a few years, this mass murderer of 30 people will leave as an ideal human being, so pure and innocent that one can put him in charge of a kindergarten.”

That’s what people thought in the past. Today that seems a bad joke to us, a crazy fantasy, but a few years ago it was government policy in Germany...

Disability Hate Crime Rises

There's a surprise.

With Government ministers secretly briefing against the sick and disabled, on the streets we are getting the hidings, to go with the removal of our benefits and community care, self-respect and security.

Fuck you all. I'm glad I'm a burden on you. You'd only spend the money you'd save on Special Brew so you'd be brave enough to burn downour houses.

Police say that disability hate crime is still under reported.

Personally I'm too scared to talk to them again, given what happened last time someone shot me with an air-rifle and I stupidly dialled 999.

I also stupidly called the housing association about my neighbours. For some reason I am now even more scared to go out now.

Perhaps something to do with the other next door neighbour whom is now taking up cudgels on behalf of the first.

Sort of tag team arrangement. So they can either drive you to your death with a large measure of plausible deniability.

Cunts.

Scary Story II - Going to the Post Office.

Of course it should really be “Going to the doctors”, but these big tasks need to be broken down into manageable pieces. Like attempting to register with a new surgery by post...

A long road to from here to the doctors.

I've needed to see the doctor for about a week now. The cycle of anxiety building to total collapse nears its climax once again, with the sleepless nights and sleepy daze blending into a grim, grey, continuous stream of exactly the same - endless days ganging up into weeks and even months...

I had to dump my last GP

I had to dump my last GP, Dr Lord. She infests the Magdalene Surgery with an equally superior male colleague Dr Jetson. After three years of no social care, two suicide attempts and one dead and one dying parent, the absolute lack of care and concern, and latterly the extreme condescension from Dr Lord, finally broke through my autistic bubble of Saint-Gobain Sully ballistic glass.

He was going to ask me kill him

I'd gone to see her about my dying father, I needed the Learning Disability Partnership to arrange transport to see him, and I was worried that he was going to ask me kill him. You see, he was dying in a very slow and quite horrible way and he wanted out quickly.

He'd already had one go and had only managed to nearly die, although achieved some significant liver damage and some nasty pressure sores to boot.

“And what sort of dogs do you have?” in the Voice

Despite my fraught state, the recollection of the consultation is distressingly acute and came to an end when she asked me “And what sort of dogs do you have?” in the Voice. The one They use for when they're attempting to communicate with dark-skinned foreigners and the mentally incompetent.

Attempting to communicate with dark-skinned foreigners

Anyway, he's finally dead now so we can move on...

Scary Story - Going to the Shops

Paedo, grass or nonce?

I had to go out today on my own.

Actually, I needed to go out about three days ago, but I was too scared.

All the cigarette and joint butts

I've noticed it usually takes about this long before I can work-up the courage. After two or three days, I've smoked all the cigarette and joint butts; creatively whipped-up a culinary masterpiece from the last of the 14 month old potato powder and 2 year old vegetable Oxo cube...

But often times it's the dogs running out of food that drives me out of the house. Over the years I've learned what human food they find palatable, and can often delay the inevitable for a day or two, when I just happen to have something in the cupboard to buy them off with.