Back to Why You Can’t Trust the “Experts” on Things They Know Nothing About

Alright, how ‘bout this? (Nice segue, huh? I just gotta keep blasting away or I’ll forget what I’m supposed to be writing about!) They are not experts in making such determinations about if hyper people are mentally ill or not, know why? Cuz I can take a pill that makes me ‘normal’, yet normal people can’t take a pill that makes ‘em hyper. Well, wait; maybe they can.
Dang it, I wish I didn’t run off all the normal people so early on! I have some questions for them about the effects on them of caffeine or meth or coke or the Ritalin they swipe from their kids. If you know any normal people you trust that you can grill for me, wouldja ask them these questions?
1) So when you take stimulants, do you turn into a happy little bunny with a safe, clean world, invisible details, yummy food that you like to eat and no dangers?
2) Is the world fun and exciting for you when you are on that stuff in a way that doesn’t preclude driving, shopping, holding up your end of a conversation, functioning, etc?
3) Do you ever feel like doing incredible, awesomely creative stuff, like develop complex theories that win you a Nobel prizes or curing crazy dangerous disease?

Cuz if you answered no to even one of those questions, then no, drugs don’t make you “hyper” they make you “have lots of energy”. Sheesh, only a normal person wouldn’t know that!
Now I’ve never done meth or coke or any illegal stimulants, cuz I’m WAY too afraid to. Speed makes my brain function like I’m normal, so I always figured if I took those, I’d get MASSIVELY addicted. To the new ability to find my car in the parking lot, to remember where I put my cell phone and car keys, to make it to appointments on time, and other such stuff all the normal people are able to do without altering their mental state.
But enough about me, back to normal people.
No. Back to ‘why you should believe me, not ‘the experts’ on the classification of ADHD and ADD’. OK, who is going to become a more proficient speaker of a foreign language- someone who learned everything he knows from a book or someone who moved to that country and picked it up as he went along through his exciting new life?
Duh.
If I can take a pill and be normal, yet I doubt they can take a pill and be like me (or even more cool stuff would already be invented and discovered by now) then why are they ‘right’ about what I am (‘mentally ill’) and I’m wrong and dumb cuz I didn’t finish college or go to med school?
So that right there should make them automatically less credible in your opinion. Add that to the shocking college expose on higher education that I’m gonna write one of these days, and you’ll have another piece of the puzzle.
Hey! Let’s talk about normal people, since they don’t read this anyway! How many normal people did it take to not only discover a way to extract radiation from wherever they found it, but to also figure out a way to harness it and make it do something useful like inventing x ray machines rather than merely dying of cancer from it; who then give birth to a normal person just like them, a daughter, who has stuff she discovered named after her on the periodic table of elements in addition to the stuff her parents named after her cuz they loved her?? Yeah, I know I’m so mean! NONE! The freakin’ hyper Curies did all that!
J’ever have a broken bone? Could you imagine if normal people had run medicine in the early days? Man alive, we’d still be at, “I’m gonna grab this arm you landed on when you fell out of the tree house, lemme know if it hurts!” for diagnostics! WHEW! Aren’t mentally ill people awesome?!? What month is hug a crazy person month? The whole year should be made entirely of ‘adopt a lunatic as a cherished member of your family’ days!
Sigh… what to tell you about from my wonderful, excellent life? I forgot what I’m supposed to be writing about!!
Oh, yeah. The experts. Yeah, they’re great.
Oh my stars, wouldn’t that be cool if I became an “expert” at something? Besides just being an expert on it all, I mean. I’m not going back to college, forget that. If Harvard called me tomorrow and offered me a free degree with no strings attached, I’d get a restraining order and change my phone number. I hope I don’t become a sell out when I’m fabulously wealthy from writing, laying on my bed, counting my diamonds and laughing in a new sounding way that I train myself to practice so I sound richer. Cuz I want to die without a diploma. If I die with a diploma? I’m really gonna hate myself.
I suck; I know exactly what’s gonna happen. There I’ll be; glaring darkly at the stable boy cuz he isn’t mopping the polo pony’s poo off my marble sidewalk fast enough. The phone will ring. Little Lucinda that I imported here illegally so I won’t have to pay whatever tax or benefits rich people are always getting trouble for not paying when they have household staff will answer it.
“meeses Deplunger?” she will timidly query, terrified I’ll beat her with a hair brush again because I’m mentally ill and only occasionally taking medication for it.
I will whirl around furiously. Then I will RUN toward her SUPER FAST cuz I’ve been standing around glaring darkly at the stable boy and now I have energy I need to burn.
She will cringe, shrieking and cowering, bringing her hands up to protect her face and head.
“I only leave internal bruising, I NEVER HIT IN THE FACE OR HEAD!” I will snap, raising my arm threateningly. In my hand will be an iron rod, coated with oil and diamonds, to help me remember how rich I am.
She’ll tearfully begin to stutter, “You hev a fen cell”, her eyes glued to my whompin’ stick.
“GET TO THE POINT BEFORE I BASH YOUR BRAINS IN YOU STUPID BEAST!” I’ll shriek at her in rage, wondering why I only have problems like this with the household help when I’m medicine free; wishing I could just slash her memory of the phone call right out of her head so I could just read it myself; it’d be so much freakin quicker that way!
“someone wants to give you a free diploma!” she’ll scream, fast; in perfect, accentless, unbroken English.
My eyes will narrow; sizing up the shaking, weeping girl curled up in a fetal position in front of my feet; I will feel a rush of gratitude that she remembered that I like to kick her along like a beach ball when I get explosively angry cuz being on hyper drugs makes me SERIOUS AND GRIM all the time!
All at once, I’ll realize she just told me I had a phone call. And I will ask myself the important questions that such an event demands. Like, ‘oh yeah; what did she say it was about? Why am I outside, anyway?’
“Lucinda!” I’ll snap firmly; a mounting disgust filling me as I realize she has just urinated on herself in terror. “LUCINDALUCINDALUCINDALUCINDA!” I’ll scream at the top of my lungs; “I don’t have the patience to wait for you to hear me, comprehend as slow as a normal person that I am saying your name, process as slow as a normal person what an appropriate course of action is, and then answer me! When I say your name, before I get to the second syllable I expect you to interrupt me just like I do all the time! Get it right, or I’ll get the tiller…”
At the mention of the word tiller, Lucinda’s eyes will grow huge with horror; then they’ll start to fill with tears, then before I can ask her ‘what’s going on? What question did I want to ask you again?’ she’ll repeat the phone message.
All at once, an immediate silence will blanket the yard. The ponies will stop nickering, turning their long necks around to look. The giraffes will stop stomping the coyote to death to look, turning their even loooooooonger necks around to look. Even the guy on the other side of the road will stop running his chainsaw, because he is finally done cutting his house in half cuz he is mentally ill and we do crazy stuff all the time!
I will look at Lucinda, making no attempt to hide the tears of gratitude welling in my eyes as I say, “you finally get me!”
Then I’ll take the diploma and write books about how college is super important and I was just kidding about all this to test the normal people to make sure they’d tow the party line and hate me for my anti college bias.