anxiety, aspergers, autism, changes, culture, democrats, depression, education, health, ideas, living abroad, philosophy, politics, psychology, republicans, travel

When Opposites Attract

things-people-say-they-dont-mean-754662862

Redder is Better than Ever

Not long ago, a women at the l corner store asked me in Spanish if I like the color red. The shorts, sneakers, and hooded sweatshirts I I was a donning were all red. There are myriad reasons I prefer it one of which I gave her. My Spanish isn’t that great so I used Google Translate on my smartphone. I could have told her I like red because it’s a conspicuous color that enhances one’s appeal towards the opposite sex, but I opted not to. I may have elucidated I’m tired of being ignored feeling invisible, and red is the most likely color to make people notice you. I didn’t do that, nor did I expound how it makes me feel bold and confident. The answer I gave is because I hate the military, and red is the exact opposite color of green which is what the Army uses. I elaborated how I like orange because it’s the antithesis of blue by which the Navy and Coast Guard are represented.

Their Promises are Lies

This became my modus operandi after being diagosed with PTSD and having my claim for such shot down by the VA in the spring of 2015. My representative whose name I won’t mention gave me false hope the same way the Coast Guard did. He’d blow smoke telling me my story was convincing and cajoled me into doing questionable things to make it work. What he asked me to do was extralegal for a lack of better words, but I don’t care to get into that. The point is my advocate was no better than the armed forces and the military academy I attended in that he did nothing more than overpromise. Those things for which I hoped caused me nothing but heartache. The VA I suspect denied the claim because my circumstance wasn’t combat-related. Their rationale is it must not be real if if you weren’t pounding sand in Iraq or Afghanistan and didn’t see anyone blown to smithereens.

No Brotherly Love from Philadelphia

My dad sent me to Valley Forge Military Academy outside Philadelphia when I was 15. This was long before I was diagnosed with Asperger’s. My mother I was unable to live with at the time for personal reasons. My father was in denial there was anything amiss about his son. He’ll never admit he made a mistake placing me in the public school system in Long Island where there was relentless bullying. We checked out a school in Vermont for troubled kids during our quest. That’s where my father should have sent met, but he decided in his that wasn’t the right place for me. Valley Forge likes to champion itself as a prestigious institute. I’m sure my dad would say the same. Apparently, I was supposed to be impressed because the movie Taps was filmed there, and Norman Schwartzkopf was an alumnus. Knowing my dad, I surmise the real reason he sent me there was because he didn’t want to deal with me anymore. We would often remind me of the tuition because that made it easier on his conscience.

Oh No! Not Again, Please!

My tactical officers and the other personnel would browbeat me each day. Yes, I know what some readers are already thinking. Welcome to the military! Stop typing and listen! Some get it worse than others. No matter how hard I tried fitting in, nothing I did or said was good enough. Nobody spelled it out, but the adults in a roundabout way told me I was a slacker who could never do anything right. There was blatant favoritism everywhere I looked. The powers that be and my own father would look the other way when I was bullied by my peers as if I deserved it. They liked to blame the victim to alleviate any culpability. Their whole objective was to pound a square peg into a round hole. I asked to withdraw the first spring I was there, but my father refused. Not only that, but he registered me for a second year to dump his responsibilities on someone else. I wanted to be expelled, but I had nowhere to turn. At least that’s what I thought. I even pondered asking to be barred from re-enrollment, but the school counselor suggested that might look bad on my transcript. Eventually, my dad got the message and didn’t sign me up a third year. I even got to move back to Houston to live with my mom.

Nobody is Perfect

Many former cadets like going back there for alumni weekend the first Saturday of May but not me. It took me awhile to get over my bad experiences. I smoked my first joint with my brother’s friend after my return to Texas. None of my former classmates know I burned my yearbooks three years later while I dropped some acid. One of my clearest memories of Valley Forge was when one of the class advisers asked me what medication I was taking. Because I was supposed to respect the officer, I divulged that information though it was none of his business. He asked why I was there in the first place. Many times I’ve rehashed that conversation regarding what I would tell him now. My response would be, “Because my father wants what everyone else in this room does – a perfect child who never makes mistakes or asks questions and always obeys. He wants another cog in a wheel.”

Uncle Sam’s Confused Group

That sums up the military down to a T if you ask me. One of my biggest regrets ever was signing up for the United States Coast Guard. I was more or less forced to join when my mother threatened to cut me off otherwise. Her boss’s son was in the Coast Guard then. Therefore, my mom became an expert in the armed forces and deemed that wise. I was flunking out of college, so I understand her rationale. The part most disconcerting was when she instructed me to lie about having Asperger’s to the recruiter. She would justify it saying there were probably other people with undiagnosed Asperger’s in the military as this had reached the mainstream just three years prior. Both my parents knew an awful lot about military life for people who never served. My dad weaseled his way out of the Air Force during the Vietnam War. My mother, whose father was in the Army during World War II, thought it’d be good for me while she moved to Boston to start over. No matter how much I loathed my it and told her that, Mom’s response was “Just suck it up and deal with it.” Then she’d turn around and toot her trumpet to the whole neighborhood how fabulous she was because her son was serving his country after 9/11.

Not this Way, That Way

I don’t know if Mom regrets talking me into it, and I don’t care. She likes to remind me that I signed the papers. The Coast Guard and others would do the same thing. The military always finds a way to justify the means while railroading people. It wouldn’t do me any good to explain it to a veteran or a lifer. All they’ll do is guilt shame me stating there are troops coming home in coffins missing limbs or compare me to medal of honor recipients. Now I’m a disgrace to my country because I couldn’t hack it. Originally, I wanted to join the Marine Corps, but one of my professors talked me out of that. He made the right call. Mom tried to convince me the Air Force was a bad idea because I had Asperger’s, yet somehow the Coast Guard was better. The real reason I did the latter was because I knew America was going to war the moment George W. Bush stole the 2000 election. I was convinced even before 9/11. I saw that coming a mile away. I know the Bush family and the Republican Party not personally but I’m quite familiar with their politics. Most people think the Coast Guard has the easiest job because it’s the least offensive branch of the military. Little do the know, it’s also is the most active and has the highest suicide rate. They trained us for things that will happen not ones that might unlike the others.

Bon Voyage, Northland!

The eleven months I spent on the USCGC Northland were the longest of my entire life. Every waking moment, I was bullied and ostracized by my peers. My superiors gave me the most work and used me as the go-to guy while others got away with murder. They’d tell everyone I was stupid, that I was gay, that I was incompetent, and the whole shebang. Nothing I did or said would ever make them accept me or dissolve that black cloud over my head. The Coast Guard would do the same thing Valley Forge would which is gaslighting. Not only would they try to make me question my own sanity thinking I was going crazy. They tried to assure me there was nowhere else to go. A lot of abusive partners do this in marriages. I saw Gene Simmons do that to Shannon Tweed. He tried persuading her there was no other way but his, and her life would fall to pieces if she left him. If I couldn’t make it in the Coast Guard or Valley Forge, I would be a failure the rest of my life.

All Hat and No Cattle

The military likes to showcase itself as the only option the same way each organized religion claims to be the only path into heaven. It’s a form of mind control to subjugate people. Eventually, I faked my way out of the Coast Guard when they pulled the rug out from me the last time. My mother assisted me in that process. I don’t know if she did that to make amends for making me lie to get in three years prior, but she told me she was impressed in that I lasted longer than she thought I would. They thought they could break my will and force me out in under a year, but it took them three. That’s why I say everyone who’s bet against me in my life has lost (including the Coast Guard.) My second year at Valley Forge, my tactical officer whom I’ll call Colonel Briggs tried to promise me I wouldn’t last until the rest of the year. If only he hadn’t left in January, I would have loved to have rubbed it in his face that I lasted that long.

Dynasty is Falling

Because of my past circumstances, I despise every sports team from the East Coast and the South as that’s where the majority of my provocateurs and their favorite clubs were from. I loathe every franchise from Boston in particular because many were from that area. Watching the New England Patriots win a Super Bowl would only set me off. That’s why I love reminding Pats fans of that season they went undefeated and lost the New York Giants in the Super Bowl. That’s the only time I recall cheering for the latter. Sometimes I’d remind them of Spygate just to heckle them further. I live for the day Tom Brady retires and the Patriots’ dynasty falls. I enjoyed every waking moment when my Houston Astros eliminated the Boston Red Sox from the 2017 MLB playoffs before winning their first World Series title ever. Seeing the ‘Stros knock out the Yankees from the ALCS was even more fun.

Anywhere But There

After living in Long Island where I was an outcast and serving in the military, the only good memory I have of New York is the thin-crust pizza. That accent makes my skin crawl every time I hear it because my mind subconsciously associates it with vitriol and hostility. The same is true about Boston, Philadelphia, and the rest of those locales. The only time I cheered for the Red Sox was in 2013 after the Boston Marathon Bombing. I showed what little empathy I had left for that place because innocent people were killed. My experiences in military school and the Coast Guard turned me off from living anywhere on the entire eastern seaboard or the South again permanently. I can promise you this much. I’ll never live anywhere east of the Mississippi River should I ever return to the United States. That’s a big if whether or not I come back, and that won’t be until long after Trumpelstiltskin leaves the White House. They didn’t push me forward, but they damn sure drove me away. I’m surprised Valley Forge never had a class action civil lawsuit filed against them from the hazing. When I reconnected with some of old classmates a few years ago, they seemed so appalled hearing that from me like they didn’t see it coming.

Good Morning, Vietnam! Good Night, Saigon!

Without further ado, I’ve never stepped foot near another boat or ship since my departure from the Coast Guard in 2004. The only military base I’ve gone near was Camp Mabry in Austin where I did a one-day temp job. That last part is inevitable as it’s adjacent to a major freeway. Were it not for its proximity to Mopac, I wouldn’t be sharing that. Since the VA, Coast Guard, and Valley Forge made it clear I was just a number to them, army green and navy blue are just colors to me. If only those folks knew I didn’t become a failure or bum like they told me I’d be. The past four years I’ve been living abroad killing it as an ESL teacher. Two of them I spent in Vietnam, the one country Bone Spurs, Ted Nugent, Mitt Romney, and those other draft-dodging cowards were too chicken shit to go near. I wonder how some of my former commanding officers would respond if they knew I visited the War Remnants Museum and the Imperial Palace in Ho Chi Minh City and took pictures.

Remember, Remember in November

In every election mid-term and general since 2004, I’ve voted straight-ticket Democrat. That’s not just out of spite towards the military. My politics have always leaned towards the left. I’m not a one-issue voter to set the record straight. That the vast majority of military personnel are Republicans is happenstance. It’s too bad half of them don’t realize the GOP is using them as cannon fodder to make the fat boys fatter. I refuse to be anyone’s puppet. Living in Southern Mexico makes it more titillating knowing I’m on the other side of Trump’s proposed law. I hope and pray whoever wins the Democratic ticket in 2020 wallops Covfefe in the next election, slashes the defense budget in half, and pours it into education, healthcare, infrastructure, housing, green energy, and scientific research.

My True Colors Shining Through

Now the readers know why I like red and orange. They’re the exact opposite of army green and navy blue. Red is the color of communism while orange represents Agent Orange from the Vietnam War. Red is the color of love which heals all wounds. I start with my right foot in lieu of my left foot whenever I walk. That’s contrary to how they made us march in boot camp and military school. I hang my clothes facing to the right whenever instead of the left like they made us do in boot camp. I even do it in the opposite order. I still tie my shoes together, but I place them in my wardrobe with the toes facing in and the heels facing out rather than the other way around.

Less Than A Hairy Situation

I would have loved to grow my hair long, but I’m going bald. I shave my head because I don’t have the money yet to get a hair transplant. One day I’ll have it done in Turkey, a predominately Muslim country. Islamophobia was rampant in the military like toxic masculinity the latter of which being the genesis of my affinity towards purple. Because I’m certain many of them consider purple feminine is all the reason more for me to wear it. My thinning hair didn’t stop me from growing a beard I incorporated into my repertoire after moving abroad. I know facial hair is verboten in the military. That, my thinning hair, and the fact that it makes me look more Islamic are the catalysts behind that. To put it bluntly, I do as many things as I can the exact opposite of how the military wants. Life is too short to hold grudges, but that doesn’t stop me from doing what I want at the expense of my former oppressors.

Advertisements
anxiety, aspergers, autism, changes, culture, democrats, depression, education, health, ideas, philosophy, politics, psychology, republicans, travel, voting

You Pray, You Pay

white concrete building
Photo by Thiago Matos on Pexels.com

Spiritual Imbalance and Global Chaos

Most intellectuals concur there’s no place in politics for organized religion. Sadly, we face this dilemma everywhere in the United States with the church overstepping its boundaries. America isn’t the only country guilty, yet we receive the most flack out of all western nations. That’s one of the perks of being the global superpower. What amuses me is how right-wing evangelicals pontificate how they don’t want sharia law in America, yet they’ve been trying to induce it the entire time. Banning abortions and gay marriage, censoring the media, and imposing the death penalty qualify under that curtain. Just because it’s not Muslims trying to implement this doesn’t mean the same rules don’t apply. This is one of the primary reasons I no longer live in the United States. Organized religion is poison. There’s no two ways about it. The only thing thing responsible for more wars and deaths in history to my knowledge are communism and the bubonic plague.

Theocracy is Hypocrisy

Religion I suspect was introduced to control people during a time when there was no government or law enforcement. Nobody knew jack about science. This was the most plausible method they had to rationalize every day phenomena. It never occurred to them the universe is comprised of random coincidences and such. That explains why in medieval Europe they’d scare people trying to commit suicide with eternal damnation. They can’t control and persecute people if they’re dead. George Carlin made the most astute comments about religion out of any celebrity I’ve known. He noted each contradiction in every Abrahamic holy book and explained there were too many inconsistencies. I will never forget how Carlin elucidated religion makes billions of dollars annually, and it’s all tax exempt. I find it ironic how Joel Osteen lives in a million-dollar mansion but couldn’t be bothered to let people take refuge in his church when Hurricane Harvey hit.

A Non-Prophet Organization

I was pleased to read Italy began taxing churches to pay off its debt after the 2008 recession. The child molestation scandals with the Vatican and economic crises I surmise prompted Italy to drop the hammer. This enticed me to comprise a new method regarding the church. I think they should pass a law in all 196 countries requiring churches to charge goers a fee to attend their services. Before anyone laughs at my idea, ask yourselves this. Would you rather the state govern and regulate religion or do you prefer it the other way around? It’s an honest question. Most religious zealots don’t mind theocracies as long as it’s not their own spirituality challenged or questioned. I figure the government can not only implement property taxes from the churches, mosques, temples, and such. They can gain revenue from the ticket sales as well as income tax from the clergy members themselves.

Freedom Isn’t Free

Many people go to church as a means of cheap therapy. We still live in a society where it’s more frowned upon to seek professional help than attend church or do drugs. I’ve lost count of every imbecile who told me finding salvation in the church would make my woes disappear. When I was in the Coast Guard suffering from depression and separation anxiety, I was referred to a chaplain in lieu of a psychiatrist or a social worker. My company commanders thought that wise and so did I out of fear that everyone would start gaslighting me and second guess my abilities. That said, I never disclosed I have Asperger’s to any of the clergy. Not only was I certain none heard of it; I didn’t think there was anything they could do but give false hope. I didn’t trust them because I didn’t think they recognized doctor/patient confidentiality.

Benito Juarez Reloaded

Two months ago, I took a tour of Chichen Itza. I visited Izamal, the Yellow City, along the way. I learned during that trek Mexico was once governed by the Catholic church. That changed when Benito Juarez came into power. He was the first President of Mexico to recognize separation of church and state. This is all the reason more I think they should start monetizing religion the same way they do movies. Half the role of an ecclesiastic is to entertain and keep everyone engaged. Religion plays a key part in molding our values like the media. If Hollywood rakes in beaucoup bucks to give people reassurance, the same should be done with religion. We can handle Sunday afternoon services the same way the cinema does weekend matinees in that the churches can give discounts. The services can still operate 24/7 like every other business in my book. I’ll bet if the powers that implemented this system, that would cripple organized religion in a heartbeat. This is my solution towards regulating religion. Imagine how quickly that would pay off the national debt and allow Washington and states to balance the federal budget.

 

anxiety, aspergers, autism, changes, culture, depression, education, health, ideas, living abroad, philosophy, psychology, travel

Asperger’s: A Cinderella Story

adult beautiful girl colorful dress
Photo by Spencer Selover on Pexels.com

When Do We Have Our Voice?

Everywhere I look, people have uncertainties about autism. They want to know what it’s like having Asperger’s. I’m convinced most are uneducated or by default deem someone on the spectrum retarded or mentally incompetent. Those that are educated know we’re just as capable of living successful lives like neurotypicals. The problem is we face discrimination like women, homosexuals, and minorities. We don’t have an advocacy group like third wave feminists, the NAACP, and GLAD. Nobody comes to create a media uproar when one of us gets in a pickle. I keep wondering when the day will come when Bono, Sean Penn, or some other celebrity with a savior complex will come sprinkle his/her fairy dust all over our cause, pull the thesaurus and label it with a new ten-dollar word, and hashtag it all over social media. I’ve lost count of the jobs I’ve been fired from for not fitting in or from those who’ve second-guessed my abilities the moment the cat was out of the bag. Sadly, we live in a society where the man with the most charisma and money is valued over he who has the most integrity or intelligence. Even in Western cultures, the latter two are underappreciated, undervalued, and cast to the wayside. America, like many Asian cultures, encourages assimilation over individuality.

Occupational Hazards

I’ve stated that the media has pigeonholed us as socially handicapped, criminal sociopaths, or a liability of some kind. Once I ran into trouble at work when an African-American co-worker compared me to Rain Man, mental patients, math geniuses, and computer wizards. He didn’t appreciate my retort when I correlated him with deadbeat dads, petty criminals, gang members, drug addicts, rappers, and professional athletes. I was making a point. That cost me my job, but that was no big loss at the end of the day. It was another run-of-the-mill position that paid menial wages and one for which I was overeducated. This occurred a year after I was let go from a security gig for which I was getting high accolades and non-stop praise from my supervisor yet terminated the moment it was revealed I had Asperger’s. My employer there had the nerve to ask me for documented proof. That was none of his business. Their excuse for sacking me was that I was backing up the golf cart while the national anthem was playing, but I knew that was hogwash. The dilemma I faced was Texas is a right-to-work state. They were covering their tails. What employer would ever admit to discrimination?

Maybe, Maybe Not

I’ve come to the point now that I don’t tell anyone if I can. It’s a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t deal. One of the main reasons I no longer live in Asia is because of how they perceive mental health. Those cultures don’t acknowledge it. They act like it doesn’t exist or it’s some kind of impediment. I remember applying for teaching jobs in Taiwan and South Korea for which I was insanely qualified. They started prying into my medical history. I knew I was a suitable candidate, and I didn’t appreciate the way they tried gaslighting me. The last one I told him where to stick it. The reason I enjoy working online now is because I can live wherever I want and not have to deal with any office politics. I don’t have to worry about anyone undermining my credentials, office politics, or any workplace bullies trying to sabotage my livelihood because they feel threatened or intimidated by me or want someone to knock down to feel better about themselves. I’ve had that happen to me as well.

Fun With Cynics

The point I’m getting at is I’ve spent my entire life being the underdog. Everyone had their doubts that I could succeed at anything. My own father and two oldest siblings thought I was a man-child with no ambition. They thought my mother was enabling me and holding me down when I lived with her. My other brother was just as guilty but not to the same extent. My sister, my peach of a brother-in-law, and now former Facebook friends would scoff at me moving abroad becoming successful. They were all convinced I would crash and burn just like I did every other job and with AmeriCorps in Chicago. They considered the idea a joke. Once again, I proved them all wrong. I’ll bet none of them are laughing now. In the spring of 2016 before I came back from Thailand, I was ready to rub my sister and her hubby’s noses in it and show them how it feels. Sadly, her beau passed away a week before my return, and then wasn’t the time to exchange blows.

Against All Odds

Unbeknownst to my skeptics, everybody who has bet against me in my life has lost including the United States Coast Guard. They were convinced they could break my will and squeeze me out in under a year. It took over three before I was discharged for unsuitability. By then, I was ready to go after I had the rug pulled out from under me one last time. My mother even said she was impressed because I lasted much longer than she thought I would. Everyone who knows me knows not to underestimate or second guess me because that’s when I become more dangerous. They don’t realize characters like Daredevil and Heisenberg inspired me. They went from being an inexperienced lawyer and underachieving high school teacher to an unstoppable crime fighter and ruthless methamphetamine kingpin. They looked harmless, but they were heavy hitters. To put it bluntly, my entire adult life has been one big Cinderella story, and I’ve overcome many odds. I don’t break barriers; I crush and destroy them. I’ve climbed an entire mountain range to get where I am, and I know how to get back up whenever I fall. So what is it like having Asperger’s? Always having to debunk naysayers and disprove every other stereotype is the most plausible answer I can give the reader.

 

anxiety, aspergers, autism, changes, culture, education, gangs, health, ideas, living abroad, psychology, travel, violence

You Gotta Keep ‘Em Separated

strike-51212_1920-1024x768

The Long Flight to Japan

Some segregation I find necessary. Before anyone screams bloody murder and accuses me of bigotry, hear me out. None of it pertains to race, religion, creed, or any of that sort. On my way home from Saigon to Texas, I changed planes in Tokyo before venturing to Houston. The trip to Japan was a nightmare. The seats were uncomfortable with limited leg room. They’re made for short Asian people not tall Westerners like me. The flight full, and I had difficulty sleeping. A couple across the aisle had a 2-year-old infant crying her head off. I know nobody can calculate how fussy their children will be. I suspect the cabin pressure made her ears hurt. She was probably scared of the turbulence, moreover. I wanted to catch rest on the plane, but I deduced that would be impossible with that baby wailing non-stop. It was hard practicing restraint and not yelling, “Shut up!” in their direction. Not giving the parents scornful look was a greater challenge. Being the nice guy I am, I said nothing.

Judge Not Less Ye be Judged

I shared a status on Facebook venting my frustration stating they should make families sit at the back of the plane in an enclosed area with soundproof curtains. I imagine the readers want to tell me the same thing one woman said – “It’s easy for him to say when he has no kids.” Like I haven’t heard that a thousand times before when I got irritated. It’s easy for them to scold me when they weren’t the ones who had to sit on that plane. None of those naysayers are on the autism spectrum and hypersensitive to high-pitched sounds, either. I’m sure the parents were embarrassed and felt they were being judged. Periodically, the dad would sing a tune or the mother would carry the tyke to burp her. Just because I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve doesn’t mean I don’t empathize. You wouldn’t believe the flack I caught. Left and right, I got bombarded with remarks from parents giving me the runaround about how insensitive I was. Despite what my critics concluded, I was thinking about that child. I was also factoring the well-being and comfort of the other passengers. I’ll bet if I spoke Japanese and took a consensus, most of those other travelers would say they wanted that baby to keep quiet.

Separate But Equal

Having a designated area for families in the back with a soundproof wall for a few hours is nothing like forcing African-Americans and other minorities to live in separate parts of towns with inadequate facilities. I don’t know where someone came up with this grandiose idea to use that strawman argument, but it holds no water; apples and oranges. By that logic, I guess we shouldn’t have people fly first class or coach. I don’t see anyone lamenting over the airlines allowing folks with greater finances to sit at the front of the plane. Oh, wait! That’s different! We’re supposed to give them preferential treatment because they paid more money, right? Like I said, having a region towards the tail of the plane is no worse to me than having first class and coach seating or smoking and non-smoking sections in restaurants. On that note, I say restaurants should adopt the same practice or have certain hours which children can attend. While the PC police might jump on this like white on rice, I stand by my point. Most people don’t want kids running around terrorizing the other patrons while they want to eat their meals in peace or kids screaming at the top of their lungs when people are trying to unwind. I don’t recall hearing about any time civil rights leaders caused that kind of disruption unless you count Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat on the bus in Montgomery, Alabama back in 1955.

Remember the Heysel and Hillsborough Stadiums

There is a time and place for everything. I don’t expect everyone to opine like me, but I’m using facts and first-hand experience to state my argument. I also believe they should separate fans of home and visiting teams during sporting events. Not only do I declare alcohol shouldn’t be served; I also feel there should be family and adult sections. I’ve been to more than one ballgame in my life to see alcohol brings out the worst in people. I’m more familiar with the mob mentality than I care to admit. One particular event that molded my standpoint is the Heysel Stadium Disaster in 1985. Several soccer fans gathered to cheer a match between Liverpool FC and AC Juventus. Numerous British fans assaulted the Italian spectators causing a human crush. In the end, 39 people were killed while 600 were injured. Something worse unfolded four years later during the Hillsborough Tragedy in Sheffield, England. Not only were the stadiums overcrowded, many victims in both cases were children.

The Long Track Record

There’ve even been incidents during NFL games where things have gotten out of hand and brawls have broken out. This is one reason the Oakland Raiders left the Coliseum in Los Angeles. They didn’t want to be affiliated with gang culture which was another causation towards their relocation to Las Vegas for the 2020 season. Philadelphia Eagles fans have a long track record of causing ruckuses, too. All the reason more why I think sports fans should be segregated, and alcohol should be either prohibited or at least limited during events. To put it bluntly, I’m more concerned about the safety and security of everyone around than I am the revenue alcohol brings in towards an organization, the feelings of emotional hemophiliacs who expect everyone to do things by their universal PC playbook, or entitled parents who want everyone to accommodate them because they have children. Nobody ever afforded me that courtesy for having autism, so I don’t owe them the same in return.

aspergers, autism, changes, culture, education, health, ideas, living abroad, politics, psychology, travel

Be Gone Daylight Saving Time

silver and black chronograph watch
Photo by Ayush Nishad on Pexels.com

Ben Franklin Wasn’t Always Right

As an Aspie, I’m finicky about certain things. One is time changes. Daylight Saving Time is one of my biggest pet peeves. Most people credit Benjamin Franklin with its genesis. Franklin spawned something similar, but the concept was in fact postulated by none other than George Hudson, a New Zealand entomologist. I get the purpose for which it was intended at the time, but that’s obsolete. They didn’t have streetlights most places when Ben Franklin thought this up. Those were also few and far between during the time of Hudson. Cities like New York, London, and Paris had only gaslights with limited range. Times have changed since 1895. Not only do most cities even in developing countries have sodium lights. Many are graduating unto LED’s which have greater visibility and use less wattage. If LED’s are unavailable, there’s always compact fluorescent bulbs as in the case with France. Even in Paris, they replaced every halogen bulb in the Eiffel Tower with CFL’s to conserve energy. Yes, you read this correctly. There are plentiful ways to save electricity without Daylight Saving Time.

Shine On, Shine Down

Without further ado, most people don’t live in farms or rural areas like they did in the 19th century. Even in Asia, Latin America, Africa, and the rest of the developing world, most folks reside in urban areas where there are no farms. No matter the rhyme or reason, you can always make hay while the sun is shining. That’s what alarm clocks are for. The sun will always be up the same amount of time regardless of what methods are induced. Nothing we do can slow down or speed up the rotation of the earth on its axis. If parents are worried about their kids going to school in the dark, there’s no reason why the faculty can’t schedule the school day for later times. As I mentioned, that’s what streetlights and headlamps are for. So far as I know, no vehicle comes without headlights and tail lights. Even bicycles have reflectors on them. Therefore, school buses can still operate no matter the altitude of the sun.

Power to the People

One thing I love about Southeast Asia is they don’t observe Daylight Saving Time. As you can see, the economy here is red hot. As ridiculous as some of their customs seem to me, I can’t deny I’m glad they left the clocks alone. I remember when there was a power outage in California during the summer of 2001. I lived there during that crisis. I was stationed in San Francisco with the United States Coast Guard. California had to borrow energy from Arizona, the one state that doesn’t observe Daylight Saving Time. Obviously, they had enough energy in the Grand Canyon State to supply their populous neighbor. Having the sun up one hour later made little to no difference in the Golden State. It was later unearthed Enron was behind that. I don’t know all the logistics, so don’t ask me. All I can say is it pertained to Enron Energy in Texas. Regardless, the neighboring state that doesn’t observed Daylight Saving Time was able to provide a service.

One Day Equals 24 Hours

The United States, Canada, Western Europe, Australia, and a few other western countries are the only places I know that adopted DST. Neither Japan nor any other Asian or African country obliged, and they don’t consume even half the energy America does. Studies have shown Daylight Saving Time causes health detriments like depression, insomnia, and heart attacks. The likelihood of plane crashes, traffic accidents, workplace injuries, and even miscarriages increase. But what do those in favor care as long as they get what they want? This is why I have another solution. I think they should replace Daylight Saving Time permanently what I believe is called Decree Time. Not only am I an advocate of Decree Time; I think we should replace a.m. and p.m. with the 24-hour military clock. I would have noon and midnight be at 1:00 and 13:00 rather than 12:00. The days would thereby crossover at 1:00 in lieu of 0:00, which would now be 24:00. Lastly I declare there should be 48 time zones with half-hour differences to attenuate all issues caused by Daylight Saving Time. If India has its own time zone and manages fine, I don’t see why the other 195 countries can’t function as such.

Welcome Decree Time

I remember watching several Astros games on TV in Austin. It would be nightfall in Houston while it wasn’t yet sundown in Austin. I recall another time in Chicago when I was with AmeriCorps watching a Bears game. They were playing a road game against the Chiefs. It was dusk in Chicago yet broad daylight in Kansas City though they’re both on Central Time. It made no sense to me, but that’s how it was. Earlier this year, I flew to Kuala Lumpur during Tet. Malaysia is in a later time zone than Vietnam though its farther west longitude. It seemed odd to me that the sun in K.L. would set well after 7 p.m. when I was accustomed to it descending not long after 6 living in Bangkok and Saigon all these years. There was a time I liked it better when the sun went down earlier, but I’m vice versa the older I get. Thus, the reason I’m an advocate for Decree Time with either 48 time zones with half-hour intervals; 72 with 20-minute differences; or 96 with 15-minute changes. To avoid confusion, I’d go with the 48 as planes and trains have schedules to which they must tend. I’m thinking like a geographer considering the altitude of the sun and the overall health of the general public.

Good Intentions, Bad Policies

A few years ago, I had a heated debate about this with some narcissistic idiot on Facebook who always had to argue and be right about everything. She insisted we keep the current system. She tried disputing that China is the size of the United States yet has only one time zone. China is also a communist country with a human rights violation record that could stretch around the globe. Most of their population lives in on the east coast. The Chinese government also has a penchant towards marginalizing the Tibetans, Uyghurs, and the rest of their population in the western provinces. I wouldn’t place much credence towards a government that allowed 70 million citizens to starve, has children working in sweatshops, and is responsible for the greatest amount of pollution on Earth. The woman was using a strawman argument. It made no difference when I explained India does well with their own time zone. Her rationale was everyone should be on the same schedule. Finally, I lost patience and told her, “Sure, why not! Hell, while we’re at it, why don’t we all go by Greenwich Meantime worldwide? That way the sun won’t come up in Texas until noon or go down until midnight. They can even use the same schedule in Australia. That way midday in Sydney will actually be midnight while noon is the darkest part of the day. But hey! What do we care as long as the oligarchs get what they want and the whole world functions around their schedule?”