1 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

YOUR INIQUITIES I’m not given to formalism for it isn’t entrenched in my routine ­­ for what lack thereof exists­­ in the slightest, so forgive the lack of conventional formatting or even reference to an addressee, it is simply not something I abide by, in the absence of recognition beyond that same fictio legis (“legal fiction”) of my own person, distilled thereto. I honestly can’t see much purpose to these sessions. There was clearly an antipathy that had brewn between us in the process of a sharing between yourself and my mother commiserations with the intended effect of using such marginalizing clusivity to the end of intimidating me. It had worked, and you wondered indignantly why I’d ever want to destroy the talisman with which you can engage in all manners of reputational destruction and damage control; the attitudes, though not within my direct exposure, as conveyed in those “observations”, must’ve percolated themselves through the crevices of other staff members’ reading thereof, translating into their dealings with me at the time (ACAST) consequently becoming extremely belligerent in the most intonatively crass and subliminally passive­aggressive of ways. You might think I’m too obtuse or otherwise deficient to have seen that otherwise transparent plot of yours, with enough reflection and abstraction in my decoding of those social wiles that otherwise come instinctively to the increasing number of even normative individuals who’ve come to view psychiatry in a politically intimidating light. It is all manners of matriarchal socialism’s forceful condemnation of my being in private ­­ that I had come to in my overheard eavesdropping of not only staff­conspirators’ deliberate antagonization attempts in April 2014 or the proscriptive aspersions against my deservance of certain expressive freedoms (speaking existentially rather than intellectually) in July 2014, and I’m sure you’re clever enough, as well as familiarized with my case sufficiently, to decode that verbiage, but also ofACAST admonitions of my “intensity” and their derisiveness thereto just this October past ­­ come to the fore as in proverbial allegory. More to this, in various police escorts to the Accident and Emergency, on one occasion of which (in late October 2015 if I recall correctly) I’m sure was attended to by the same junior doctor who had presided over my assessment in July 2014, ever

2 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

politico­ideologically motivated to misimplicate of me non­existent emotional states such as “anger” in a fervour of propagandized autistopathy (a neologism I’ve coined and come to use in many of my works), had there been inscribed notes to have been inadvertently read out by police desk reception­takers on duty, revealing the department’s general antipathy towards me and further elucidating the vendetta’s expansion from that of a personal one by you to themselves generally. Forgive my redundancies, I must ensure clear detail. One of the conclusive observations can be categorically classified a non­sequitur fallacy. Without quoting it directly, there’s nothing inherently leading from expressions of linguistic malpragmatism or in perfunctory desire to attend to detail indications of aggression. That inference was contrived from a wish to proliferate the mischaracterization of my character in the least sympathizable form possible such that the medical apparatus may be utilized in a further disablingly intimidating and persecutory manner against me. In fact it was probably the plan that I would come to these realizations so that you could engage in this DARVO­esque feigned ignorance of the antecedent so as to justify further misunderstandings such as deteriorations into paranoia when, in reality, these phenomena have most certainly been experientially surmised. Disgusting, perhaps; demoralizing of my trust in the system, most definitely and again probably an intended by­product of these institutional microaggressions themselves; surprising, actually no given a repeated historical precedent having been established by this juncture; ideologically revealing, and this is what I’ve been most thankful for, undeniably so, for your matriarchal hatred has been most reaffirming in my return to the faith of my previous positions, temporarily misled to their liberalization by subversive trolls, a certain one of whom was a support worker that’d stalked me (more on this to follow), who had furtive intentions of destabilizing me to desired effect. I want no participation in legitimating such a system, nor did I ever; the delusions of entryism serving a “threat” to this set­up of your collective which you’d ascribed in imagining my “attempts” thereof, back in April 2014, for reasons I’m sure you’ve previously researched and that I renege on mentioning to save the potential embarrassment of us both were honestly the most fucking laughable (at least retrospectively, though hurtfully insulting to no end at the time) bullshit my ears, lain

3 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

thereupon very, very closely, had ever heard. Now, additionally, I renege on what few sympathies I had for such a franchise of political subversion under the guise of an “egalitarian” movement. Why would they be warranted when you return them with crass backlashes such as the continuous parlances with medical science’s (or at least its most highly politicized sub­wing, largely metaphorical in the comprisal of its constituent concepts; per the Soviet Union’s invention of the category of sluggish schizophrenia, it was then revealed for the first time Western psychiatry’s entire agenda by extension, fucking Fabio­Trtoskyist scumbag lot) utilization as a tool of barraged bellicosity to perpetrate against me? I’m indignant, indeed. This is not the same thing as mindlessly belligerent and impotent rage per the fetishistic compulsion of the system’s in deliriously and feverishly caricaturing autists. It is something rooted in aggrievement. To have been aggrieved (transitive verb of the past perfect) means somebody must’ve previously imposed thisin order to aggrieve (the simple infinitive, though describing present actions, in this instance points towards an external cause, per the motivation of its carrier to then perform that later). You would have to be willfully ignorant to dismiss this, given it is not in a congenital idiocy of logic or even simpler heuristics of verbal reasoning that one chooses to deliberately overlook the origin of this resentment. No, yours is a magic of revisionism. Yet you had, and repeatedly, and quite openly, especially during our 21st October consultation, without even so much as restraint beyond that of overt mention (as if to suggest your derisive contempt towards my ability to see finer implications), interjected my explanations mid­sentence with interruptions in misdirection, which was to see their reciprocation, if you recall, in my deliberate over­talking of you (yes it was uncouth, no I can’t be apologetic in light of what I was responding to; to be honest, I regard it excessive of my politeness ­­ which I’m sure hasn’t been reciprocated on paper in the notes, making it even more pointless ­­ to even acknowledge the former as much, but if it’s any recompense to you). You may feel as if you are unanswerable to or unaccountable for this, since it is the work of your predecessors. Logically speaking though this appeal to temporality is moot, seeing, as I’ve mentioned before, that you’re perpetuating the damaging effects of their work. You can at least answer to your complicitness in this regard. Certainly, you may at least answer for your attempt to gaslight me, where you’d denied suggesting, even by implication, my silence the appointment before.

4 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

I’m sure all manners of conspiratorial machination have been unwreathed in their hatching, to every intention of your plans. You’re not seriously going to try and excuse under the confidentiality clause a tendency of speculative callousness, per the mandate and typical course of your profession? It was repeatedly attested to me by your predecessors ­­ some of whom are still working ­­ of all ranks that this speculation was their job; to take this with the full implication of its meaning you can thus abtrusively render my actual person to the dust of sophistical caricature, propaganda, calumny, and state­sanctioned­yet­unofficially­recognized libel, one which would have your sickly maligned Marxist ideologues and even the old Heeb (and I’m sorry if I’ve missed the etymology of ‘Hazelgrove’ as to have inadvertently insulted your semitic progenacy) himself shedding abnormally mirthful tears of joy. I’d used a phrase in my old writings a lot, it was something to the extent (I’m paraphrasing here) of “paper­encoded”/”scroll­encoded mythologies” or other. Put simply: modern material and philological progress has become a joke, ever since abandoning idealism in its prototypical form, taking an ersatz and poorly emulatory form in the manner of “post­modernism”, and selectively applying the latter to our otherwise slavish obedience of empiricism when concerning preciously politically anointed groups (the female proto­matriarch, transsexual neo­matriarch, etc.) just to abandon all pretense thereof in their application to groups whose hatred is state­sanctioned (my own). From about the time of Enlightenment’s close, we’d started insidiously taking to atavism, in a return to ideological Universalism, which, per Nick Land’s Dark Enlightenment, is merely a highly metaphoricized Christianity masquerading as philosophy: mysticism contained in any work that had reportedly been produced under the auspices of this newly reformed “scientific empiricism” is, as the idea in itself was, an extension of thematic typologies in Biblical lore and thus stand to untrustworthiness in their obfuscation of the true methods, in secretive concealment and probably so far so as to render an illusion the entire process of ‘research’ from the Goyim (Gentile/non­Jew), even those mis­educated doctors who practice it, merely implementing toyish doppelgangers of the real implements, are enacting what’s basically an overglorofied Freemasonic lodge drama, whilst those genuine advancements, being within the hands of an anointed, esoteric society (think something like a modern day variation of Sir Bacon and his league of acolytes, operating under the pretense of ‘science fiction writing’ a

5 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

technocratically­motivated, Soviet­esque political planning racket), are withheld; the scientific­technocratic conspiracy has been well known for its mere manifestation of the Talmudean agenda of the Novus Ordo Seclorem, the singularity of information as now gleaned with these entirely contrived rubrics and measurements merely allegorical of the “Temple of the Mount”, the last vestige of an enlightened pseudo­elite, in a manner close to the hoarding of the last refined literatures we see in the scene between Savage John and the Commander in Brave NewWorld (I used to call it the “Brave NewWorld Order” for this reason). Sorry to bore you with what might seem like the critical literary analysis of a rather trivially obsessed, interminably pretentious, and astonishingly paranoid rube but I do have a point here: You know autism is just a bullshit sociological experiment to stratificationally forge an arbitrary category of surreptitiously abused people (the perpetrators of the aforesaid being those claiming to help treat it). This is socialist subversion of society in action which you actively partake in with every bated breath of barely­concealed laughter with which you internally and derisively mock the viciously predatorial work of brutalization you carry out in your every “professionally”, “clinically justified” action every day. We’ve covered those concepts already; these are code­words for “in my homage to Sir Bacon and his pioneering work in the seminal construction of technocracy so I devote in my liege this societal devastation”. An Aspergian’s life, when all the implicative detail of treatment processes involved and the diagnostic archetypology, universally dehumanizing and patient­blaming in a ridiculous fashion (nobody who actually knows me would dare push the burden on my loneliness for a “desire” thereof, for example), is considered and examined scruitably, it reveals itself merely one of a confined prison of the domestically shut­in Gulag, to be tyranistically ransacked of mental autonomy and individualistic integrity through a series of deliberately disabling treatments, usually designed for other conditions (the deliberate moratorium on condition­specific research being the biggest clue of the contrived nature of this condition), that leave them permanently damaged, even when successfully circumvented after long (as in my case, the scars are mostly traumatic and psychological). The goal appears to just have them commit sudoku en­hikikomori (“suicide in complete isolation”), when the societal context of what agenda (gynocentric hegemony and all the highly intimidating trapping therein) has brought about the antipathy towards what their condition is purported to represent on sexual lines is considered.

6 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

It is especially the case in Britain, where most of this spin has been “indigenously” (for however indigenous you can call an Ashkenazi Jew) thought, taken otherwise unseriously in most of the rest of the Anglosphere, except, I’m told by acquaintances there, in socialist shitholes like Australia. Political ideology of the sort whereby you must espouse to the legitimacy of an illusory mirage of scientific progression will compel you to sarcastically dismiss my writings as a “rant”, and this much I’d myself sardonically rejoindered with similar disdain, to a similar accusation by a psychiatrist who’d interviewed me after the junior, on the ward itself, in July ‘14. It’s like Robert Mugabe’s former colleague, Joshua Nkomo, said dismissively to Western journalists at a post­conference dinner: it really all depends on your ideological opinion. You may bullshit that Zimbabwe is an economically failed basket­case, and your perspective will privilege you to cast such an aspersion on such a basis as the material fancies of what it means existentially to live as a Westerner, but for those superficial concerns, the average Zimbabwean couldn’t give a shit. I’m of a similar disposition when you speak of forcing acceptance of my autism in order to recruit me into the neurodiversitarian­matriarchal alliance. This membership of mine you are most certainly not recruiting. I’m far too politically well­trained (at least as far as one can in an informal sense) thanks to a series of mentors, all egregiously betrayed by the neurodiversity agenda, who’ve inculcated into me these insights into a neo­Fabian movement to make a post­classist society on psychiatrically codified lines (although I only came to the conclusion myself, after they’d imparted into me the constituent foundations). I’m sorry. If this atonement, as I no doubt you rather maniacally deem the necessity of its (the ideological capitulation that comes with acceptance of the conceptual basis underpinning autism as anything more than arbitrary politicism) nature, is to be entertained by me, I would be turning back on convictions and repudiating the principled internal consistency of my ideals, which would only further serve to reinforce the idea of my instability and undeservingness of recognition as a meaningful individual. Although perhaps only 2 years ago might I have never entertained listening to a Negroid (this is not a racial epithet, you’re thinking of a variation of this term by a different suffix) about anything, in watching a Mugabe speech out of boredom, one line of his struck me particularly profoundly: “Never, ever, ever, sacrifice on your principles.”

7 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

A sacrificial offering of this sort does nothing to redeem my perception in the eyes of the system, however much it might be stated to the contrary, so I won’t waste my time trying. I feel, in any case, that it may be obtained just by staying on the road I’m currently traversing. In the cyclical nature of its meanderings, rooted in a duplicity of neurotypical thought that can only be described by the Biblical proverb of “speaking from both sides of the mouth”, it would only be cynically taken as an affirmation of its current processes, vindicating the disaffirmation of my ilk under the context of pathology. And I know how vindictive the system has been to me thus far, a reflection of those who work under its auspices. You’ve used succession to abrogate yourself of a status wherein you represent via. personification the system itself despite my argument of this point, and it is in that vain which I use the pronoun ‘you’. You’ve killed me. You’ve murdered me. You did it silently with drugs, and covertly by its existential rather than physical nature, something from which I’m not certain if I’d ever fully recovered. You used the manumit of clinical misdirection ­­ disproportionately blowing above station the severity of an otherwise barely relevant condition ­­ in justification of the afore­said. You’ve extracted confessions by the misinterpretation of psychotropically­addled statements I can’t even remember having made in defamation of my own character, and you did this twice. You took perverse pleasure in knowingly committing all of the above, hiding behind a pretext of genuinely misguided and professionally ‘sincere’ concern. And you expected me not to break into tears the entire time, back then (I refer still to the same period, circa mid­’14), only to use it against me in further pathologization when I did so, without realizing its actual manifestation of my realization that you were collectively all in for me. These were the consequences, I began to realize, of my ideological abandonment abound; about half a year earlier (in the NYE of ‘13/’14), I had an intense hallucinogenic experience under the use of diphenhydramine in the failed attempt to commit suicide, influenced (my method rather than the reason for doing so) by bad information about dosing. Without going into detail, incanted were various visions; of police constables who’d presided over a previous case about my “hate­speech” dissemination (hardly, and it was directed to almost nobody, and nearly no­one cared except for one duplicitous woman who’d feigned fear towards my remarks, out to destroy me under the influence of

8 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

another I’d known at an institute of learning I’d previously attended: my first exposure, in effect, to grassroots radical feminist conspiracy) admonishing me particularly harshly about everything, right down to certain proclivities that I think have gone far too long in their open discussion with anyone as of now, and would’ve certainly never admitted to much of anyone back then, then those of fictional characters entirely, almost strawmen of their representative demographic contingents, giving me an extremely, violently castigating grilling with the intent to instill guilt about past beliefs I’d harboured about their natures. Frankly, I wanted to die, driven by an intensively renewed guilty regret, even more after this, combined with the impending sense of failure I’d felt. It was in light of this that I would proceed to renounce some of my more extreme former beliefs later on (only for their readoption to occur in the wake of the subsequent iniquities). Oh, and didn’t the system ensure it was known that, in their response to this, impassive and misunderstanding as it was, and suspicious of me as they were, they were only regretful that I didn’t succeed. In fact, so little did they think of the entire event that it was only to be rather impassively referred to by one nurse in an in­patient stay three months thereafter, the same one who had praised my writings initially, only to denigrate them a few days later openly in earshot of my awakening from sleep one time (hypersensitivity is about the only blessing of this otherwise bullshit cow­iron brandishing, I swear), as an “incident”, and this she did with what would be the aural equivalent in tone to a punch in the face, followed by an angrily demeaning utterance of insult. Intonations are something I never had a problem with growing up (actually, I’m pretty sure it was remarked in class by an English teacher once that I was the only one capable, and this was in a mainstreamed setting, of reading with any tonality at all, let alone a remotely passionate one; I might’ve been in my early teens), before you say my misinterpretation of such is something to be dismissed as a product of my non­existent talisman pseudo­disease. It is to say nothing of Euan Robertson’s (the support worker involved as my key one from the period of January 2014 until July of the same year, whereupon he retired in eruption of the debacle surrounding me towards the end) role in aggravating the conspiratorial and persecutory manoeuvres of the in­patient ward’s staff on both occasions of my April and July stays, including my pre­transfer April assignment to a ward in the south of the country in the Borders, which he had a delightful time of egregiously parlancing with a

9 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

member of nursing staff from whom he gleaned a number of secrets (adequately, in my view, disproving the concept of confidentiality clauses), spread numerous other ones to her and other nursing staff post­transfer back to West Lothian (mainly in those other instances, through percolation by a peripheral interaction with social workers to whom he had spreaded this conspiratorial damage control mentality, though if I am to be clear, it’s not as if Euan hadn’t participated directly in interviews with psychiatric doctors before, Dr. Waller is one individual who’d been open enough with about this to me ­­ forgive my descent into pseudo­Chinglish grammar, I’m tired ­­ so there had probably been at least one between himself and Dr. Marr), and had kept these proximally­perpetrated prevarications of his relatively furtive from me (though I had my suspicions from the very beginning) until making a particularly demeaning remark to me, a sarcastically backhanded mention of something I personally confided to the nurse at Huntlyburn. Despite concealing this in a false deflection of the same, whilst in reality, fuming with fury inside, I wanted to kill both him, and every personnel of both those wards, but this had soon faded to the kind of foreboding sense of miserably intimidated, received antipathy (it was unilaterally directed from them to me, a realization of powerlessness bringing about an awareness that not any of my hatred could change their predation against me) that had characterized my motivations to plan suicide later. He had, needless to say, gotten his revenge for my daring gesture to elicit any sort of compassion or respect from him to acknowledge my autonomous decisions, instead deferring to the all time favourite defense of socialism’s totalitarian imposition of arbitrary regulations against all and sundry: safety. “Listen and believe, that we must protect you from yourself, because your individuality and free will mean nothing; you may live in so far as you exist, breathe and eat meaninglessly, such is the perverse pleasure we derive from your masochistically­imposed cuckoldry!1” It wasn’t good enough that my convictions were sincere, and actually quite presciently predictive (seeing as nothing has changed a year and a half on), in a lack of viably prospective progression in life course, such as to rationally justify such a suicidal gesture. 1 Though this is a metaphor, I mean to refer in a respect very specific to what would be discussed outwith my intended recipience, again being overheard within my earshot, at a psychiatric assessment intermittent to my jail stay (Euan’s incident report, replete with pathological lies, the true nature thereof being confessed to me by Chris K, had landed me terrorism charges) in July 2014, whereupon a junior doctor and her senior psychiatric colleague went outside for a few hours, allegedly to call my mother, following with one to the police. Put briefly: Euan’s bullshitting in large part was a continuation of repudiations against me carried from those lies he had spread to Ward staff combined with new information about the same subject matter, the stuff I’ve glossed over thus far only allusively, gleaned from his internet stalking of me, which the police

10 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein discussed with this doctor. The casual naturewithwhich she opined the illegitimacy of thesewas a sentimental affront that, in retrospect, I didn’t feel outrageously violent enough about: put in plainly axiomatic terms, an existentialmurderer only deserves real, actualized murder in return, that fucking matriarchal privilege wielder.

I think the rest confines itself to history, when allowed to speak on its own behalf. Lastly I would like to cover briefly just two more anecdotes: another Accident and Emergency visit, to follow with a departmental waiting­room idling preceding an ACAST appointment, I think some time in September although I can never be sure, given my abysmal ability to track time (I haven’t had a solid sense of one in years, the diphenhydramine overdose killed it: the only reason I remember the date of our last consultation was because it was written for me by someone). My mother is an expert at using her manipulative, reptilian­esque guile, a characteristic staple I’ve come to associate with anything female or even phenotypically there­resembling, to use disingenuous pretenses of pre­calculated antagonism to rile me uncontrollably and furiously. I’ve come to call all magic of this sort, whether it be the lumpenprole using less sophisticated but still as­effective techniques to instill antagonism, or the professional using far more sophisticated, conspiratorial mores, “Chukjibop of the Female Caucasoid flavour”2. The name­sake of that power had originally been coined to describe Generallisimo Supreme Commander Kim Jong­il’s time and distance shrinking powers to traverse all continental expanses on the palm of his hand. 2 Though I’m aware racial egalitarianism is a popular paradigm in discourse, it’s politically contrived; I defer to the marginal but still nevertheless well­established convention of Rushton’s evolutionarily human bio­diversitarian hypothesis (often mis­referred to as “scientific racialism”), as well as preliminary observations by Grandin, one of the few things I respect her otherwise subversively sinuous ways for, about the relative socio­developmental impoverishment of young East Asian Mongoloid specimen of both sexes.

Similarly, to analogize with this, so can the duplicitous and prevaricative woman engage in a “mind­shrinking” magic (it semantically fits enough seeing as all temporo­spatial perception is just that, perceived), where you have all the emotionally humiliating, debasingly reducing, spitefully conceited subliminal mockery, usually in the form of lowly sass (the tone with which you had interjected “because you didn’t let them” in response to my explanation of AI’s unwillingness to support comes to mind), to the infinite avail of your disposal by the tip of your tongue.

11 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

This occasion bore no exception, and having elicited these egregities, so Masonic police­agents were dispatched, once again to escort me for yet another although uncountable time, whereupon I’m greeted after waiting a while by ACAST workers, apparently both named Lorraine. Don’t get me started on how clearly they’d expressed their disinterest in seeing me with all of the passive­aggressively disdainful evasiveness in the world. Fobbing off with all manner of furious deflectiveness the buck onto me, they had, in an admonishing way, stated conceitedly of the accurateness of pre­existing background reports (I semi­enragingly laughed to myself, internally at least), to proceed with requesting that I ask my own questions, in effect. No. It wasn’t even my idea to come here and I’m given a barrage of pre­emptive abuse from the offset. For telling the truth at least, the one instance that I recall in recent memory (that goes as far back as half a decade for me; everything before what happened at Occupy Edinburgh is a blur due to things that happened which I’d rather not mention) this has been beneficial, they’d relented. Finally, and yes, you’re probably sighing in relief, but it’d be misplaced, seeing as there’s still more to discuss in conclusive terms. At least, this is the end of anything recollective in value: I’d drawn myself up to the waiting room of the department and couldn’t help but overhear a conversation. You could tell contextually ­­ primarily a matter of hindsight I confess, though I had my suspicions as usual ­­ that they were referring to me in all but name. A new recruit must’ve started to ACAST, he was a tall and bulky male; his demeanour upon meeting with me was nothing exceptional, in either respective extreme of experience, to speak of. I recognize Lorraine’s voice, and though I could easily be mistaken, it’s been established that she has the greatest intensity of disdain for me out of all of them: she spoke derisively of my “intensity” in speculations exchanged with him on desk. You expect me, once more, not to cumulatively take this in reinforcing my sense of insult by the services, and I’d find it hurtful if I didn’t have a similar degree of rancour with which to exchange the sentiment. Multiple people have remarked that I’m incorrigibly whiny, and it’s not a lie, indeed. Given the opportunity (i.e. in the least mutually humiliating circumstance possible, hence I write this letter), I’ll let my contentions known without reservation, and I could never

12 ­ Your Iniquities: a correspondence on the role of the Fabian, Trotskyist, and socialistically matriarchal intrusions of strongarmed grappleholding against the neck of the last cognizantly

autonomous endorser of Aspergian spiritualism in any of its forms, per their constituent ideals’ advocacy by the author’s mentorship, their refusal of identifying mention herein acknowledged,

and how the addressee, and predecessors thereto, complicitly colluded therein

find appreciation for psychiatric intervention especially of chemical forms for it was clearly perpetrated in suppression of these righteous sentiments with no medical utility beyond thence. About these experiences, and their valuation by me in utility as useful forewarnings and allegorical, moral lessons, especially about what I believe they portend on the whole. It’s not as i I’ve deliberately drenched them up just now to find excuses. These are just the most frequent of the kind of suddenly terrorizing spontaneous recollections ­­ I’d use ‘flashback’ but it may demean in your eyes people more deserving of recognition for their traumatic experiences and with this, I’ll play ­­ that befall to haunt me on a regular basis, and I can’t help but find contextualizable connections that help bridge the points of individual experiential phenomena over a more widely biographically recollective, if immaterial (these only exist to me and their pertinence pertains such), plain. Yes, it may well engender distrust in the longer term. But what would engender even greater distrust, if I’m to argue the kinds of Devil’s advocacy just beginning to dawn upon people when regarding the autist, would be a continuation of that intervention which is akin, to borrow an analogy I’ve used before elsewhere, to beating a dog outside the cage where it is allowed to roam free­range, pretending the aberrant behaviour resulting therefrom is a consequence of the freedom allotted rather than the abuses exacted, and confining them back to captivity, where an observation they have “calmed down” had ignored the confounding factor of said beatings. It’s time to give up. Thank you for reading.