Vacation in Normdom / I see what I’m missing

Not a vacation exactly; house and dog sitting while friends are away. My dog and theirs are buddies. Compared to my 95 year-old “cabin” their house is a 5 Star hotel. Notably a DOG DOOR, a “vast screen TV” for NHL playoffs, plus Netflix. I’m marathoning not-historically-accurate historical docuseries. Lots of magazines arrive in the mail each day: Women’s Magazines, with instructions for EVERYTHING. Reminds me of the poster above. I tried scanning a couple of select “neurotypical” advice pieces, but my friends’ computer lacks almost any useable apps.

Here’s a favorite: Topic? Tricks for not thinking about work while on vacation.

Before going on vacation, I write down what my intentions are for going on the trip.”

I might write, “I desire this to be a really rejuvenating time.” Or “I hope to be at ease when going through check-in.” I meditate on those intentions and put them on an altar in my house, which is where I put all the things I want to come to fruition. I also take crystals and stones with me. Rose quartz  for love, citrine for happy energy, and carnelian, because it’s grounding. Anytime things happen on vacation that agitate me, I take out my crystals and hold them to help me stay in a restful state.” –by a “business attorney”

Other “essential” advice that warrants wasting paper, printing ink, fuel costs for delivery and USPS manpower?

How to maintain sneakers: Don’t bleach your dirty white sneaker laces. It may damage the fibers and lead to breaking. Instead, soak laces in warm water with an all-purpose bleach alternative (like OxiClean Versatile Stain Remover, $8.00;

How to maintain a stand mixer: “Pay special attention to the nooks and crannies where bits of food and batter can get lodged….”

Gifts for grads: Whether or not her career path involves chemistry, give her a trio of scented candles in quirky chemistry lab beakers. $75.00 for 3.

Are you putting on enough sunscreen? Find out at

Freeing oneself from “phone addiction” – Investigate the Impulse (ACTUAL title)

According to a study by the research firm xxx, the average smartphone user touches her phone 2,617 times a day. Troolie Bonkers, a mindfulness and meditation teacher and author of “Stupid People Need to Buy My Book” advises: “Before you reach, take a deep breath. How do you feel? What is leading you to reach for the phone? Is it just habit? Loneliness? A desire to escape a particular feeling?” Taking that pause offers a sense of freedom and empowerment, so we can be more intentional about checking our phones…

“When uncomfortable feelings arise, acknowledge the emotion but accept it as normal and healthy, suggests psychiatrist ThreeHundredBucks PER30Mins, MD, author of “DIY: Fix Your Child’s Brain using Simple Electrical Kitchen Gadgets,” $39.95

“You should feel good about the fact that you’re letting your brain stretch, rest, resolve a problem or work through an emotion every time you resist using your phone.”

Two things are true: 1. the American Empire is being destroyed from within by the Psych/Psych Industry. 2. There is something terribly wrong with the NT brain. 

Let’s end with a feature labeled “Lists I’ve Been Meaning to Make” I KID YOU NOT:

Things to do with avocados before they go bad.

Things to do with rotten avocados.

Reasons I need to let things go.

Witty come backs I didn’t think of in time.

Ways celebrities really are just like us.

Ways they are totally not.

Vacations I will never take but like to plan.

Bikinis vs. One pieces: Pros and Cons

Gyms offering discounts for the first three visits

Another list of lists to make.



Wonderful Website / Go There

Body language: The crotch displays of men (primates)

Right: This is one area where I’m relieved that “social conventions” restrict males from walking around naked. If they did, we’d have to put up with this type of behavior. LOL

Bipedalism was not a result of the crotch display, but it gave male bipeds a great opportunity to enhance traditional primate displays, and to threaten and intimidate other males. 


The original “blue balls”

Body language: The crotch displays of men

(nipped for brevity)

One way in which males display dominance is by displaying their crotch…this behavior is something that we’ve inherited from our ancestors. The most common way in which men display their crotch is by taking up the thumbs-in-belt gesture.

Thumbs in belt or pockets

This gesture is used by men to display a dominant, sexually aggressive attitude. It’s perhaps the most direct sexual display a man can make towards a woman. (You’ve got to be joking!) Men also use this gesture to stake their territory or to show other men that they’re not afraid. This gesture communicates the non-verbal message, “I am virile, powerful and dominant”. 

The Obama White House criticized Putin’s posture. I guess the seated crotch display, when done properly,  does intimidate the Hell out of other males. LOL

In a seated position, it becomes kind of difficult for men to assume this gesture but they don’t shy away from displaying their crotch if they want to communicate the message of dominance. They’ll spread their legs and lean slightly backward so that their crotch comes forward and in full display.

Watch any group of young men who’re engaged in an activity that requires them to display a macho attitude and you’ll notice that they often stand with their legs apart and their hands somehow highlight their crotch.

For instance, when sports teams are ready for ‘action’ you may notice the players continually adjusting and re-adjusting their crotch as they unconsciously try to assert their masculinity. Interestingly, this crotch display gesture is also seen in apes and some other primates. Even though the apes don’t wear any belt or trousers, still they highlight their crotch with their hands when they have to stake their territory and show other apes that they’re unafraid.

Some primates such as baboons are a bit more direct. They display dominance by spreading their legs and displaying their penis, giving it continual adjustment or even waving it at their enemies.

What’s even more mind-boggling is that the same penis-waving tactic is also employed by some New Guinea tribes even today who are essentially cut off from modern civilization.

This clearly indicates that such a behavior is an evolved tendency in homo sapiens.

Dropping the pants

I must have been around 11 or 12 years old. It was a bright Sunday morning and we had arranged a cricket match with some schoolmates. Everything was normal as the game progressed and as usual, both the teams rejoiced at the high points and wore disappointed expressions at the low points of the game.

A rather strange thing happened when the game was over. It was a narrow contest right to the end but our team lost. Needless to say, the other team was elated. They jumped with joy, yelled and screamed. But one particular boy was over-excited. He felt so powerful and dominant due to the win that he dropped his pants and showed his penis to our team. (Why not to the other team?)

My team-mates laughed it off but I was taken aback.

I never forgot that incident. I wanted to know why he did that. What possible motive or desire could force a person to resort to such an extreme behavior? (Was the writer really so naive?)

It remained an unanswered question, an unresolved problem in my psyche for a long time until years later, when I read about human evolution and body language, the whole picture became clear to me.

Another similar and common incident that men experience at least once in their lives is when they jokingly question the size of their friend’s penis, the latter usually gets defensive and retorts with something like, “If I show it to you guys, you’ll become afraid and run away”. (Really? Guys say this?)

He may not realize it but unconsciously he knows that the penis display is an effective way to display dominance, and so do his friends.

I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to understand, by now, why people display their middle fingers when they want to offend someone and/or to feel dominant.

It’s not an acceptable behavior anymore in a civilized society for adults to drop their pants and show their penises so they use their middle fingers to symbolically convey the same feelings.

Some of you might ask, “Why do women who wear jeans assume the ‘thumbs-in-belt’ gesture?” or “Why do women show their middle fingers, when they have no actual penises to display?”

Well, it’s most probably a behavior that they’ve learned from men. (Ya think?) Penis display, symbolical or not, has come to be strongly associated with offending someone or showing dominance in the human psyche, thanks to its effectiveness.

I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to understand, by now, why people display their middle fingers when they want to offend someone and/or to feel dominant.

It’s not an acceptable behavior anymore in a civilized society for adults to drop their pants and show their penises so they use their middle fingers to symbolically convey the same feelings.

So, women are just using a tool from men’s psychological repertoire because they know how effective it can be.

Subtle forms of crotch display

No, no, no, never…


Belt and crotch grabbing while dancing is a subtle (?) form of crotch display and men across different cultures do it- from Michael Jackson to Salman Khan. Other subtle forms include wearing tight fitting pants, small-size speedo swimming trunks or even dangling a large bunch of keys/chains on the front or side of the crotch.

Baseball players are particularly “crotch grab prone”. The NHL crotch grab: a puck to the nuts. 

Rather ambiguous message, don’t you think?

The wallets that have those chains dangling on the side of the crotch became popular among men because it helped them draw attention to their crotch. 

To conclude consider what George Carlin, the late American comedian, had to say about wars:

“War is nothing but a whole lot of prick-waving. War is just a lot of men standing around in a field waving their pricks at one another. Of course, the bombs, the rockets, and the bullets are all shaped like dicks. It’s a subconscious need to project the penis into other people’s affairs.”

Are Japanese women tired of neotenic males, perhaps? 

Caption: REALISTIC male mannequins. How pitiful…

“Wired Brains” / STOOPID Neurotypical Headlines

Intelligent people’s brains are wired differently: Researchers say ‘smart minds’ are more likely to be happy, well educated and earn more (EXCEPT IF YOU’RE ASPERGER, then you’re doomed) 

  • Scientists who analysed brain scan data on 461 volunteers 
  • Found patterns linked positive aspects of life, such as having a good memory and vocabulary, feeling satisfied, and being well educated
  • People at the other end of the scale were more likely to display negative traits including anger, rule-breaking, substance use and poor sleep quality (Dumb people are criminals)


CAPTION: Male, Female Brains WIRED Differently

The problem with atheists: Not wired for direct connection to “God”

Bring your kids into AUTO CENTER to have their electrical system checked. FREE tire rotation with tune up. 

CAPTION: How millennials are WIRED. Note the little bridges connecting hemispheres of the brain. How cute!

Well, no wonder men and women can’t connect. “Red” electricity and “White” electricity originate in different universes.


Neurotypical wiring: DANGER



Unwritten Social Rules / Attending Weddings – Mother’s Day

I don’t know why the memory of a particular wedding I attended many years ago popped into mind this morning, but I think it has something to do with Mother’s Day advertising – all those weepy, teary, heart-tugging moments when Mom gets handed one of millions of cheap diamond pendants sold as “unique” and “just for her” by retailers  from Walmart to the “junk jeweler” at the Mall.

As I’ve related before, legislated holidays were a problem for the emotionally inept members of my dysfunctional family. My father was Asperger and utterly clueless as to romantic or social gestures, so leaving to him the challenge of selecting a gift for the Mother of his Children was “asking for it.” The gift would be guaranteed to hurt my mother’s feelings rather than help to cement their relationship… a card was about as good as it got; maybe brunch after church, except that Dad would forget to make a reservation and we’d have to trudge from eatery to eatery, crowded with joyous, flower-bedecked women and their family entourages, only to end up at the “seat yourself” Pancake House.

When I recall my mother’s face, she’s perpetually on the verge of tears; life seemed to be a long, long journey of disappointments. There was a conflict point, a turning point, when she had chosen my father for practical reasons that were perfectly reasonable at the time, during war time in the 1940s. She had been the Belle of the Ball in her small town; lots of suitors, presenting ardent affection, presents, offers of marriage. She turned them all down as not “good enough” to get her out of the small town she hated and into a middle class life of social respectability.

Her “eggs” were getting old, not that she would ever say such a thing. She was pushing 30 – a disgrace and sign of doom in those times. “Beaus” were becoming scarcer;  everyone was married. A chance visit with friends to a bigger city; a chance meeting with my father. A “catch” in her eyes. College-educated, a good job, conscientious and not terribly experienced with women. They married within three months. My mother “sealed the deal” by getting pregnant immediately, despite the two having agreed to wait at least a year. I have no idea what the birth control situation was; one didn’t discuss such things with parents, or at least my parents. They must have had access to something, because I was “planned” and didn’t appear until six years later.

My father’s parents had divorced; it affected him deeply, and he had vowed to make his marriage work for the sake of the children. My mother knew that once a child was born, he would never leave. That’s an Asperger, for you. Loyal unto death, like a Rottweiler. But, that wasn’t “good enough” for her, even though that’s “the deal” she had made. Where was the fawning romance, the constant attention, the man that she could “retrain” to be a constant suitor for her affection, the type of affection that would not ever be forthcoming from an Asperger male?

The marriage sank into routine: my mother’s constant dissatisfaction – and my father’s satisfaction in his work as an engineer, became two anchors of contention. Life for my father was designing wonderful gadgets in a secure, predictable universe of mathematics and engineering two feet from his nose on the drawing board. Then home, precisely at 5:30 p.m. Dinner on the table, the house clean, the kids scrubbed and dressed and “normal”. My parents had date night every Saturday, going out dining and dancing with other couples from church or the neighborhood. He really did try to conform to a social routine that was typical in those days, but fell short on social “niceties” – he didn’t drink or smoke; play golf, go bowling, or hang out at the bar with the guys, or play poker, gamble or fool around. He worked, he provided, he loved his children, a bit awkwardly, yes, but consistently, attentively and devotedly.

My mother secretly wept over her “lost world” of ardent boyfriends and became a perpetually resentful buzz killer for all of us. Not surprisingly, my brother never married. I tried it once, but the “picture” of my parents marriage was too cruel: as an Asperger female, it was apparent that I could never “settle for” the prison each of my parents had volunteered to commit to for LIFE.

The “wedding” anecdote that popped into mind this morning is really of no consequence; it was my parents’ wedding that I was forced to attend for the eighteen years that I lived with them. After my mother died, my father stated that after one month, he’d known that the marriage was a mistake. But he’d given his word, his promise, his vow never to divorce. I stifled my own opinion: Without marriage to my mother, my father’s life would have been miserable: he wouldn’t have had children or anything, really, except his job. She agreed to “put up with” his (undiagnosed) Asperger-ness in exchange for a nice house and strange gifts on holidays. They lived out a destiny that they both committed to back in the 1940s, after knowing each other for three months. The fact that they never came to know each other is simple destiny, given the circumstances.

But – let it be a “warning” to Asperger types; extreme loyalty is not always the best policy.

I do not blame my parents for my aversion to marriage, although it certainly didn’t help. My incessant curiosity about “what’s next” in life made sticking to one person, one career, one location simply impossible. And it precluded having children. If I had, there would be one or more “screwed up adults” screaming at me today, Mother’s Day, claiming that I had ruined their lives, that is, if they were speaking to me at all, and those accusations would be true. Parenting necessitates so much sacrifice, even in “happy marriages” and I wouldn’t have been able to do that.

Life’s Lessons / Warning: Unladylike Language

There is some shit that I will not eat.

There is some shit that we all must eat.

There is some shit that we choose to eat.

And then, there is our own shit…

Gone Wild expanding on EE Cummings

The Hell Reserved for Asperger Females

Traditional Judeo-Christian Myth goes like this: Women are inferior to men and therefore ought to be submissive in all things. Why? Because God said so.

As a young child on the track to being socialized into the Sisterhood I soon discovered that it is a crime against God, Nature (not actual Nature, but some trumped up feeble concept of nature) and of course, Men, for a female child to wander the world freely, displaying equal confidence, intelligence, and expectations for success – indeed the personal fulfillment that males automatically demand. 

What really irked me was being told that when I encountered a male who was less intelligent, I was to pretend to be dumb and helpless. If I didn’t, his feelings would be hurt and his penis wouldn’t work.

This is a real advertisement. Women were openly called stupid and incompetent.

This is a real advertisement. Women in the 1950-60s were openly portrayed as stupid and incompetent.

If social people had known at the time (1950-60s) that I was Asperger, my life would have been over – my brain handed on a platter to the Priests of psychology for re-education, retraining, and possible water-boarding. I would have been forced into soul-killing conformity. I would have heard ceaseless condemnations about how I was born without empathy, a theory of mind, or the ability to move my eyes properly. I escaped destruction by being born in the pre-Asperger era.

The sad irony is that many males (grudgingly perhaps) did accept my peculiar female presence in the world without much more than an initial statement of surprise. Male coworkers and friends often noted that my confidence and abilities were unusual, but not unwelcome; a few discovered that it was possible for men and women to have real conversations about real things. 

As expected in a hierarchy, low-ranking males must continually adapt o being pushed around by higher-ranking males; the “disturbance” I caused was about where to place a female like me in the male gang hierarchy. The favored tactic was to treat me “like a girl”; expecting me to do menial chores like bringing coffee for everyone to meetings. I put salt in the coffee pot the first time I was asked: end of battle.  


The Hell that awaits Asperger girls is the special hatred that comes from the Sisterhood of “socially normal” female killer-cannibals who defend the status quo of “female inferiority” as required by infantile social rules (netoney) Women are expected to fight to the death in a tiny segregated social arena, and not to succeed outside that combat zone. No one who has seen “normal” females gang up on the nonconforming female can deny their blood lust. 

No female who has been the object of their wrath can shake the shock of vicious betrayal by her own sex. The fair treatment and trust that Asperger individuals crave from birth are dashed. It’s like being clubbed to death by a gang of cheerleaders in scary make up. Yes Ladies, that’s what it’s like to be attacked by NT females. 


University requirements for aspiring cheerleaders. A little obvious? White gals preferred.