Men Scare Me…Part Seven

Scott Galloway has been a reoccurring character in the Men Scare Me theme. Just over a month ago, the podcast with fucking Liz Plank (since I should be fair since I call Jordi – Fucking Jordan Peterson) said some of the worst damning stuff that I didn’t expect from a leftist that also didn’t care for the woke culture. You know why?

Because I remember the moment of where I was on the night of my 34th birthday – Friday, March 12th, 2021 where he appeared on a live episode of Real Time with Bill Maher while I was rebuilding a Lego Police station from like 1996 or something. I basically stared at my iPad when I heard his critique of “woke” people – on that very same episode.  He has also appeared on freckin Megyn Kelly’s SXM show/podcast, and then he went to these woksters at The Man Enough Podcast. Of course Liz Freckin Plank couldn’t help herself to conflate blowing up massage parlors to incels (wait is that how the Feds caught Bob Kraft back 4 years ago they had to engineer a “b0mb” to get into the parlor at the strip mall in Jupiter, Florida?) Elizabeth needs a fucking editor!

After listening to barely 10 minutes; I was screamin mad and demanded that BCOP-TV start to do the Crisis in Masculinity after this point since I just started to be part of Special Projects at the station, then not only that I spooked that very same Boston newsie yet again. I didn’t even want to look at the Twitter stats of how many others I spooked out yet again.

I don’t even follow Man Enough anymore. And Liz hates men in recent Twitter rhetoric. And Galloway is a fucking attention whore.

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Men Scare Me… Part Six

Jordan Peterson recently had a discussion on narcissism with Generation Z (also known as iGen), sometimes referred to the Millennial Generation as well. The episode interviews an expert on this generation and the narcissistic outcomes that social media brought…

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Almost 3 Years of Boundaries… Where have things gone?

In early 2020, I started to develop the skills naturally to combat against a state full of narcissistic types, that is New Hampshire. The people who are typical and Caucasian really do feel like they can “Live Free or Die” and if you’re atypical then it’s literally Live Free or End your Own Life (just don’t post this on Facebook because they can put you in Facebook-jail for implying self-harm – to you!)

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Suicide as a Topical Discussion

I thought I’d discuss a very sensitivte topic that may be offensive or disturbing for some. If you are someone whose not feeling that hopeful for people in the U.S. to contact the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800.223.8255 or 9-8-8. That alone being a 3 digit number says a lot about our state of mental health.

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Is There a Such Thing as Conservative Feminism?

I have had this concept before the election. For those who don’t know our NPA area code, New Hampshire dials as 603. This state has traditionally been conservative or libertarian, but it has since gotten more political and more moderate. In New Hampshire it pays to be a woman, our three media institutions puts women on top of the queue, the adult contemporary radio station in the largest city is not shy of being all women and overtly singling out men. Women in my opinion (WITHOUT THE UNDERTONES OF BEING SO CALLED “BITTER”) are very snobby, extremely standoffish, and are easily scared.

Well that would make sense if you get your news from WMUR-TV Manchester’s Newsnine and if you get your news from “WMUR” well then your world view is very skewed and that’s all I can say to that.

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December 1999: The Time I Saw My Life “Flash” By…

23 years ago roughly in 1999, I recall an attempt of suicide, thanks to testosterone, taking Paxil and a botched transition to the local Middle School in ltown. The location? It was Seacoast Learning Collaborative, a private school, I believe acting as a non profit entity, off Exit 8 what was then the new extension of state highway 101, (IIRC the 4 lane highway was just completed either weeks or a month before.) I recall the construction and being stuck four years before in traffic going to Hampton Beach. Ironically seeing the Castles of Brentwood, where many local shops got displaced when 101 was completed. When I left Seacoast in 2002, virtually they had all units of about twentysomething at The Castles. Two other programs were not affiliated,  but rented it. The New England Dragway owned the building; unsure what the status is as time goes on, the tress cover up the visibility of the Castles, of which I think is a good thing.

I have not discussed SLC as a separate blog post, or the details of my experience; but basically a private school doesn’t have to comply with state rules, and SLC’s ethos is to straighten troubled kids because because students like to blame their disability for everything not that the disability is truly controlling them unfairly. The two most outrageous students  I recall aren’t on Facebook. Perhaps they see a therapist like the one I see because they break the law or go to jail or do stupid stuff, making me perhaps a more saner of the bunch of the PDD program of the ol SLC.  Continue reading

Respite Trip: Seacoast

I took an out of office time from Friday night to Sunday morning to finally clear myself from the 3 years of hell I had to deal with.

https://twitter.com/MinifigNewsguy/status/1589820369673879552

 

My therapist suggested going someplace just before the time of COVID19, but as things have settled and the virus as still deadly, but more manageable, I decided to go out of my comfort zone and gone to Portsmouth, with financial help from my mother and for logistics, but for all intensive purposes this was the first time I was away from family without being forced.

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Non Autistic Mothers Trivializing Autistic Sons (for Power?)

The headset port on my Mac mini (as you may know if you own one from the early 10s) “pops” out audio as probably for some energy consumption to only send audio electrons when it thinks there’s audio to playout. Because your’s truly forgot to turn off the receiver for hte stereo system the Mini was plugged into, as I use that to playout edits, my grandmother didn’t get sleep last week, called the mother and the ol woman went to check it out. It does sound like a critter noise, but regardless overnight, my mother doesn’t just go in the room, she goes right to where my keyboard is in the heart of the edit bay, the sacred location to where i am now just doing editing for newsgathering.

I did believe the claim the following morning the old woman said that she didn’t look, but that center spot where my Aeron sits on, is something that only a true professional amateur would get. My mother is like the ignorant director who thinks magic can be done by a keystroke. The living room is a screening room. Critiques for the sake of critiquing. The passive agressive nature has gotten so bad, that I wouldn’t even share my work – even to my own grandmother who often is like the middle person in many of these spats.

It makes me wonder how much I got fucked over in the last couple of decades where the crown was given to my mother and any king status (that is nothing in 2022 compared to the stereotype of being a “brat”). Worse is just how I have less support than I had 3 years ago. I also have people who are just so out there. It’s like I am cheating with two women (my mother and a support staff) that are almost identical, but it varies by day. But I can’t bitch about either one too much, because both women are allies and enemies at the same time.

It’s so crazy.

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Late 2001: The time I realized becoming a man would be physically difficult

In the fall of 2001, not too long after 9/11, and a few months before puberty was starting to percolate, I remember yelling at the school yard. I realized my voice went down at least an octave. It sounded angry. I had a baby-face because of my Japanese genetics. I remember yelling again not too long after, and again hearing the octaves go lower. It wasn’t just a voice change that I felt I needed to avoid, but among many other things the transition to manhood was going to be an ongoing situation for more than 20 years after the fact.

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Where’s my mother?

If I had to point to a lineup to identify my mother, I wouldn’t be able to.

Nor can I identify her presently. I am not sure who my “real” mother is but I am lonely and confused, but such fuzzy memories of being a toddler has since vanished in reality.

The other day, my mother was supposed to go to work up in Manchester, but overslept (which was highly ironic because MNF ended early, for a Monday Night standard, 11:10 ET if you are keeping tabs.) So I was expecting to do some work in the basement to tidy up the place because I have too much crap and not enough time to do anything w/ them.

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