The friend who hasn’t been able to figure out in two years that I work started a full-time job today. I’ve already proposed three different outings she had to refuse.

Revenge is sweet.

Here’s an example of sensory issues.

We all know I detest masks and lockdowns. But there’s one aspect of COVIDiocy that I find irresistible. It’s the hand sanitizer.

I’m obsessed with hand sanitizer. I use it 6-7 times in class. Students must think I’m a germaphobe. But I don’t care about germs. If anything, I’m a germaphile. What I love is the cooling sensation on my hands. The classroom is hot, and putting sanitizer on my hands is primitive thermoregulation. It makes me feel sharper and more energetic.

Yes, yes, I know the darn sanitizer is carcinogenic. You probably don’t have sensory issues if you think this makes a difference.

This reminds me of how I always have to edit out the word “focus” from my talks because every time I pronounce it, it sounds like “fuck us.”

On the other hand, maybe I shouldn’t because it wakes people right up.

Based on huge popular demand, here’s the post on sensory issues.

I’m a lifelong sufferer from sensory issues that are clearly inherited and inheritable in my family.

The most important thing for people with sensory issues is to be believed that we are really experiencing what we say we do. Others tend to think we are being cute when we describe the effect that harsh overhead lighting or sudden loud noises have on us. It’s very frustrating even for an adult. A child can’t handle this frustration on top of an already existing sensory disturbance and reacts violently. So rule #1, take it seriously and don’t react like it’s bad behavior. When the child begins to freak out, think, “what’s causing this? Noises, lights, temperature, something the kid is wearing?” Little children don’t cry without a reason or to be obnoxious. There’s always a reason.

When I noticed that Klara had sensory issues, this is what I did. She would freak out, for instance, when she heard a lawnmower outside. Obviously, lawnmowers are on constantly in our long summer that starts in March and lasts until freaking November. It was no life to live because she’d have a massive meltdown whenever the noise would start.

So on a weekend I took her to campus and showed her a bunch of these gigantic lawnmowers that weren’t being used. We walked around them, touched them. I told her they were asleep and won’t make any noises. I let her climb into one of them and pretend to drive them. I told her a story about a family of lawnmowers, gave each lawnmower a name. The lawnmowers in the story had all sorts of funny adventures. She laughed. The adventures always culminated with lawnmowers making noise because they needed to mow the grass and help people. She started trying to imitate the noise.

The next time we heard a lawnmower, I took up the story from the place I ended it during the visit to “sleeping lawnmowers.” She still doesn’t enjoy the noise, of course, but she now has positive associations with it and there are no more meltdowns.

Cornell will force students to get “COVID vaccines” (aka experimental untested gene therapy for an illness that poses no risk to them) to be able to return to campus in the Fall.

Of course, as I said before, students won’t protest because this is a generation that doesn’t protest if the tech oligarchy doesn’t approve.

Now who’s the party of gullible idiots?

This is why ‘inclusion’ sucks:

The guy is desperately trying to be inclusive but ends up insulting everybody. I’m incensed both as a Christian and as an ethnic Jew.

P.S. Protestants are reading this post in great confusion.

The narratives that children create on the basis of comments we make in passing or things they observe are fascinating.

Here’s the story I heard Klara tell her dolls:

“At first we lived in Russia. But there were some bad people there who didn’t let us get baptized, so we came to America to be Christians in peace. But we were poor. We had to live in a small apartment because we didn’t have any money.”

I hope it’s understood that I didn’t tell her this story. She saw me get baptized in adulthood, and I pointed out the apartment building we lived before she was born.