And then some.
Freedom of Speech is being able to go on national television, and with no preparation or knowledge whatsoever, state that autism is a fraud and a racket, that 99% of autistic kids are spoiled brats. This is what Michael Savage did.
Freedom of Speech is also being able to say something like this: "Michael Savage is a sorry piece of shit that intentionally riled up one of the most vocal parental advocacy groups in the country in order to gain notoriety." That's what I just did.
You see, I don't have the burden of kindness that my friend Karla has, who wrote a very painful rebuttal to Savage's moronic rant, so I feel absolutely no guilt or remorse about calling him a sorry piece of shit.
I am one of the lucky parents of a child that has just mild autism. PJ doesn't rock himself for hours while staring at space, he hurts himself more by doing something stupid like climbing too high, than by hitting himself. He has made incredible advances in speech, thanks to the priceless help from the Fairfax County (VA) special education programs that he qualified for since he started school. He is emphatic, and most of the times he cheerfully meets new people. But he is still autistic.
My house is in an eternal state of disarray. We clean on one side while he wrecks havoc on the opposite end. He loves pizza, which means that he will ask us to order him two regular sized pizzas, enough to feed two or three people, and he will carry them throughout the house for the next day or so. Oh, and he is one of those people that like cold pizza straight out of the fridge.
When we have fried chicken, he has to be served exactly five legs. Not four, not six, five. He likes to fill up his own balloons with helium, a kit is $24. If he doesn't get at least two of those per week, he melts down.
Oh, yes. The meltdowns. Imagine a temper tantrum where the kid is not trying to blackmail you into doing whatever it is that he wants. A tantrum in which the child has absolutely zero self control. That's an autistic meltdown. PJ gets one or two per day, which is awesome. Almost everyone else I have checked with tells me of days with constant meltdowns from the moment the child wakes up until it is time to bed.
When the poor kids finally fall asleep, you feel sorry for them because you just can see that they are completely drained.
Karla is not exaggerating about the house damages. I also got the broken wallboards and the paint stains. I also got yogurt stains in my ceilings. Oh, and he is an escape artist. I am in constant terror that he is going to take off running and end up under a truck in Wielhe avenue. We have locks in all of the windows, the sliding door to the patio is blocked and the balcony is useless to us. The door has a lock on the chain.
About a month ago I realized that, if you don't count the kitchen cabinets, the fridge and the stove, and a shower sliding door, there is not a single thing in this house that is older than PJ. Everything else, even bathroom cabinets and BOTH toilets, have been replaced at least once in the past 9 years.
One autistic kid in the family is extremely expensive. Two? I can't even begin to visualize that. And PJ has no dietary restrictions, there are many autistic kids out there with serious gastric problems, and that means spending even more money for groceries.
By the way, the end result of this incident with Michael Savage is that he is going to come out and pour his heart out and tell us all how he did not mean to do that, and how he really feels the pain of the autistic parent. And it will all be a crock of shit.
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