SHE PROBABLY HASN'T NOTICED

As anyone who knows people who are the spectrum realizes, the things that come out of an Asperger syndrome mouth paint pictures in the mind that weren't there before. Their observations are, sometimes, acute.

My apartment mate is somewhere on the spectrum, far further there than me. It's like living with a keen observer of humans from another reality.


Wisdom from the apartment mate:

"One cannot smack the seasonal clothing store help, it will spoil their prettiness. Sometimes that's all they've got going."

"He's a bigger asshole than the president. It's a pity he ain't rich, otherwise he wouldn't be sleeping in the doorway so often."

"He can't be a pretty little wahini, but don't tell him that; the idea makes him feel good."

"Oh sure, there are plenty of Republicans there, but only a few can spell their own names. They're not all named John or Bob, though."

"That constipated grunting may be evidence of mental activity."

"We think the poor girl's kind of cracked, but whatever."

"One man's dog poo is another man's dog poo."

"Does anyone feel an aura of menace?"


And, angrily exclaiming about food ads for white people:


"Who the hell wants fat-free bouillon, for Christ's sakes, shit, dummies!"


She's often a bit pissy about white people and their queer attempts at cooking. Deservedly so.

I have cleverly not let on that I too am white.
I'm flying under the radar.




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================