Tim Barrus Blog
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Humiliation
They force me to strip naked in front of everyone. They are extraordinarily mean. That is my take. It is a toxic place. My take. Yesterday, they did it again. Why do I have to be naked. This is about my heart. Not my penis. I am absolutely in need…
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I Cannot Condemn Violence
One man has brought this country to its knees and he’s going to decapitate everyone he can. And we allow it. We encourage it. I cannot condemn violence because it is the beating heart of my country.
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Viable Gender Care Puts American Hair Aflame
Tim Barrus This all started at the New York Times. Then, it moved to FB. God help me. The piece we are all talking about is that gender change with kids is a pornography. This would be somewhat personal but why am I thinking that children living at the marginalized…
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Tim Barrus: Thermonuclear Weapons Unleashed
The unraveling begins. I no longer care about what Joe Biden says. He cannot win. The democrats cannot pull off a Hail Mary. They don’t have the drive for it. They are impotent. They don’t have the gravitas because their exalted leaders are so extraordinarily comfortable. There are democrats who…
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Tim Barrus and the New York Times
Tim Barrus and the New York Times Republicans are human slime. I have never trusted David Brooks. His faith in the goodness of the American people is toxic. The American people are not conflicted. They’re compliant. “Go kill those people over there because they are not like us.” And so…
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It Is Not a Dialogue
Tim Barrus and the New York Times A Dialogue You hate us. We are not all alike. Life is mainly making widgets. The neurodiverse are exactly that. Diverse. No one makes widgets like we do. Some of us can wear the mask on and off. I never take it off…
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NYT Aspergers
I was diagnosed as high functioning Aspergers as a kid. Asperger was a Nazi monster. I deplore even writing his name. I used to say: I Hate School. Now, I say: School hated me. Never unmask. Too dangerous. Never talk to teachers. Keep your hands folded on your desk. Do…
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Bikes In Rain
Tim Barrus: Bikes In Rain
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The Capulets
For personal identity to even exist, the original narrative self, a controlled humiliation, becomes entangled with participatory regret.
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Cross Walk
There is no one with crutches in this photographic collage. There is no one in a wheelchair Krossing the Street in this photographic collage. There is no one with a cane in this photographic collage. There is one person who is kinda lost here but I can still kneel in…