Dear OCCUPY WALL STREET et al:

What if you ABANDONED WALL STREET?

Face it. This ain't working. You're just feeding "the man" at this point;

1. The media has descended upon you and is making more money off of covering you.
2. You have become your own future Superfund ecological hazardous waste site !
3. You have no more cohesive voice then the multiple talking heads on the networks.
4. Even though you count yourselves as THE NINETY NINE PERCENT, come on! We can count!!! Your numbers don't show it!
5. You're so Chock full o'Nuts the other 98.98%  of us don't want anything to do with you (but we love watching you in between episodes of the Jersey Shore and Real Housewives!) .

So, here's a plan for you. ABANDON WALL STREET! Remember that old Anti-war slogan "WHAT IF THEY GAVE A WAR AND NOBODY CAME?"? 

Put your bongo drums down and think about it.  Everyone goes home, but still carry on the fight.

Here's how:

PROTEST WITH YOUR POCKETBOOK! This doesn't just mean banking locally (so your money gets invested locally) but buying locally as well. Yeah, we all embrace the World Wide Web, and love shopping on Amazon and eBay -- then we wonder where our local stores have gone with their local jobs!!!! Your local tax base wonders what happened as well!

One young man has an idea that will also hit the big guys:

*Note: the wood shims he mentions just get broken in the mail and then don't get sent (therefore aren't paid for). The bonus of doing this is that it peripherally supports the U.S. Post Office and the people who have those jobs.

If there is a message behind the movement (no clear answers, just a message apparently) it's that you're mad and you're not going to take it anymore. There are other ways to get that message across without disrupting the economies of other working people - i.e. the businesses in the area where you are currently making it very difficult to conduct any real business.

Much like Return-to-Sender Mail boy, you can also:

• Call your bank and do all you can to speak to a person. This normally involves going through the hassle of the phone-system [hitting "0" often does the trick to reach an operator]
• Ask questions about your account balance, etc.
• Make small talk - remember - they're paying for that time.
• When the conversation is about ended, and they ask if there is anything else they can help you with, tell them what you really want -- an end to banking fees, the CEO in jail, and someone to come over and cut your lawn.
• Keep a bank account and make withdrawals & deposits in person (they love it when you come in!)
• Bring in your loose change.
• Ask to speak to a manager.
• See above - remember to go when they're really busy!  Great if you're unemployed and have time on your hands!
• If it looks like they don't have enough tellers on the floor - ask if they're hiring!
• The key here is to BE POLITE. Getting yourself thrown out for being rude doesn't win any points. (Make sure to drink plenty of chamomile tea before going in, you want to remain calm!).
• Even better! - buy stock in a bank then show up at stockholder meetings (as the 99%, surely there's the numbers to buy up some stock!) 
• Complain that you think the bank is making too much profit.
• Move to make board elections American Idol style.
• Nominate your high school algebra teacher to be on the board (apparently they are having problems with some basic math).
• Demand that if they are going to foreclose on widows and orphans, that they must send a guy with a handlebar moustache and a top hat to set the scene properly. 

As you can see, there are many ways to rage against the machine other than crapping up our public places.  Maybe, the "Arab Spring" movement had a nice ring to it, but an "American Fall" really, really doesn't sound too good now, does it?

Funny

Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve posted.

Wanna make something of it?

You know, the funny thing is that when I started this blog, I named it because I knew I had a “problem” with comedy. I had a tendency to blurt things out at inappropriate times. Jokes (word associations mainly) would come to my head, and I would share them with the people around me. Too often, this would end in disappointment -- people just weren’t getting my jokes.

Sometimes they would.

I lived for those moments - and tried to forget the others.

I also knew that I had a tendency to call things as I saw them - political correctness be damned! It would irritate me how often logic falls away in the face of a little emotional arm twisting.

Borderline Comedy Disorder – that seemed to sum it up. A sort of a quirky personality disorder of my own devise (not listed in the DSM!).

Funny.

Even funnier – a lot of these quirks are found under another disorder, with a funny name.

Asperger Syndrome. [pronounced ass-burger]

This one IS found in the DSM-IV

I'm not going to bore anyone here with a description, but if you want more info I really like this site and NIH gives a pretty decent description. 

Funny.

What's really funny is that – apparently, a diagnosis of Aspergers automatically makes you “unfunny” in the eyes of comedy writers.  Example A: Sheldon, of The Big Bang Theory . . . most certainly an Aspie if ever there was one . . . will not be labeled as such by the writers or creators . . no, no, NO!!! They might be accused of mocking a disability!

Funny.

I normally agree with those who say that no subject is off-limits to comedy, even while I wince at jokes that I feel aimed at me (namely fat jokes, but there are others). Yes, I've been personally annoyed/hurt/bothered, but I dismiss those feelings for they are only feelings. Yeah, call me Spock.
Humor is cruel.

Yes, humor in it's most basic form is cruel. Think “America's Funniest Home Videos” and you'll see the source of all humor: people laughing at other people getting hurt/surprised/splattered/dunked/yougetmydrift. This extends to animals as well.

The Germans call it Schadenfreude. Some could say we laugh because we each see in the “stooge” ourselves and take some humor in the situations that they get into – but if one looks at what and how very young children get their kicks (so to speak) you must understand that they have little pretense to introspection. They just like seeing “oopsies!”

Ahhhhh, but we have come further then The Three Stooges, haven't we? Has not humor evolved beyond slapstick and farce to humor of wit, satire and manners?? Farley Brothers films and pretty much anything on basic cable aside. . . Humor is complicated.

Sooooo, does this mean that I can't make fun of myself? No. I remember well working with a girl who often made jokes at her own expense, and when a guy in the group took a good (and funny) shot at her, she sniped back, “the key word in 'self deprecating humor' is the word SELF!”

The recent Glee episode caused quite a stir when it actually went out on that limb and put the AS label on a new character – or more precisely:

Sugar Motta: “I have self-diagnosed Asperger’s so I can pretty much say whatever I want…I’m pretty much like a diplomat’s daughter.”

Ironically, the same people who are making the stink are the people who asked for an Asperger character on a show that is full of stereotypical characters (gay, black, blonde, gym teacher, etc) and now they are complaining because the Asperger characters was stereotyped.

Funny.

Well, thankfully I have this blog and I will continue to make fun of not only myself but whatever I see fit. I don't see myself as a diplomat’s daughter, I just call things as I see them. I had a Borderline Comedy Disorder long before I had any other diagnostic label. 

My recent personal revelation (perhaps self-diagnosed, but professionally confirmed) is leading me to take a 2nd look at many things. For this reason (and the fact that I am obsessed with starting new blogs) I have started a couple of new blogs focusing on Aspergers. Please visit Aspergal (gad! something else to read!! ughh!).





~Kiss-My-Assperger!

A Real Pain in the Ass

Ahhh Carly, sing it girl!

All those crazy nights when I cried myself to sleep

Now melodrama never makes me weep anymore

'cause I haven't got time for the pain

I haven't got room for the pain

I haven't the need for the pain

Not since I've known you

Pain is a funny thing.  Ok, not funny-Ha-Ha, at least not when it's happening to you.  Although apparently millions of people still find other people's pain funny enough to keep watching shows like America's Funniest Home Videos, or any one of the millions of videos that have been uploaded online to YouTube, etc.

But, back to the main subject - pain, notably my experience with pain. 

Pain as a reminder of our mortality becomes so much more acute as we age.  I remember being asked "how does that feel on a scale of 1 to 10? with 10 being the most painful." and thinking -- well, I can only answer from my own experience, which at that point was limited.  I would tend to be cautious when answering such questions, as I assumed I've never really felt a 10. 

I think it was Carol Burnett who once described childbirth thusly: “Take your bottom lip and pull it over your head.”   Never having experienced childbirth, nor being able to fathom the pain of pulling my lip over my head -- I couldn't get it to touch my nose . . I had to assume childbirth would have to rate at least a "8" or "9" for surely there must be worse pains then childbirth, i.e. having your arm sawed off without anesthesia, being drawn and quartered, or perhaps being burnt to death would qualify as a "10."  A paper cut or stubbed toe must be a "1."   Maybe just a ".5".  

Point being:  How much could I really complain?

My most recent journey into pain began 2 years ago. It started with a ache in the shoulder that very soon moved down the arm.  Tingling, shooting, making me want to cut my arm off, it wasn't long before I resembled a pretzel - with my left arm in a sling and stitches on my leg from when I dropped a casserole dish on the ground due to my weakened right arm.

After being misdiagnosed as bursitis of the shoulder, given X-rays and MRIs, cortisone shots and a number of pain medications - it was finally diagnosed as a pinched nerve.  Chiropractic therapy, traction, exercise and drugs all helped and eventually I the pain eased and left my shoulder, neck and arm . . .   only to travel down my spine and land on my ASS!!!

Arrrrrrrrrghhhhhh!!!!!

I can't win. 

Sciatica -- or as I was to learn "psudo-sciatic pain" since it didn't originate in the spine -- but it went down the leg just the same.  Pain in my muscles and lower back, hips, legs.  Ahhhhh, just sitting down - something that should, in and of itself be a restful pastime, became exhausting.  Just sitting at a computer became a chore - the continual hum of pain made anything beyond the most basic work impossible. 

Yes, this is why I haven't written in the past few months - it just got to be too much bother.

What wasn't too much bother was ruminating on what the heck was wrong with me.  Watching Mystery Diagnosis and Dr. G: Medical Examiner doesn't help.  All I wanted to know was why my body suddenly decided to go all wacky.  Google is great help with this. 

Google is also it's own pain in the ass, because it can be so difficult weeding out the good information from the bad.   With a little help from my chiropractor and a pain MD, (oh, and my doctor dad)  I was finally diagnosed with myofascial pain syndrome.  Myofacial pain syndrome is kissing cousins to the "F" word . . . you know, Fibromyalgia. 

I'm working my ass off now to work-out this pain.  Progress is being made, and I am getting used to working through this.  I am even now, returning to work - writing.  Setting up a way for me to write and not be on my ass so much - and can be an ASS in my writing once again!!!