Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything … 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs … damned humans.
Quite simply, March has been a dick, the Ides of Dick, a fiddlefuckstick of a month that just seems to want to linger well beyond its 31 day confine and this is on the heels of February being equally dickish and January as well.
Yeah, this whole year so far has been such a dickturn that I’m not even sure any longer what ISN’T in the realm of dick.
I’ve even considered awkwardly wearing ill-fitting suit jackets and one size too small belly pop T-Shirts and comical billboard ballcaps with dumbass slogans like I am totally new to hats, even truckers are admonishing me for making them look bad, and I might also consider just firing a bunch more people just to get a little joy out of life and maybe even break out a golden chainsaw again for dramatic effect because who are they anyway? They’re no longer the populous I appeal to, they served their bought purpose and they ain’t me so I don’t care, plus they’re affording me ample opportunity to rob them even more blind (don’t tell me I can’t get blood from a stone) and be even more in dick mode.
Well, I’m not gonna let March bleed into April even if April promises to be more of the same, tens of thousands more people forced out of work for specious reason and with no real receipts to justify, legal folks getting “disappeared” in broad daylight by masked, unrecognized, unannounced gestapo (MTG’s favorite gazpacho secret police force soup she eats with a fork while never understanding why it’ so difficult to eat soup with a fork) with no explanation other than they’ve suddenly been proven to not be fans of genocide (I mean what’s that all about? Like suddenly that’s a “thing”?
They ain’t us right, and they are somewhere else so what’s the matter? (we just have to have more kids to fill the global void and plan a vacation) more acquiescence by every bigwig and news organization imaginable, more unaffordable trips to the grocery store or the doctor (will be more attempts at that real soon, making up science’ll do that, it’ll most probably be a rush) or even the car dealership, like any of us could afford such a trip anyway, maybe pass new laws allowing kids to work overnights during the school week hoping they just drop out and become faceless, lifeless worker bees for the greater good. Even continue to re-write history in a more white way and maybe make voting down the road more dickly as well and … blah blah blah the litany of ills that want to blah blah blah us to death like a blah blah blah cudgel (too much shit intentionally blah blah blahed at us all at once).
Oh, and re-name the Lincoln Center after Andrew Johnson or William “Tariff” McKinley or something like that and plan recitals of treasonous pardoned ex-cons who can’t sing for shit.
No, I’m gonna turn the calendar page on a new month a couple of days ahead hoping that maybe starting a new month with a day of comedy and practical jokes and even funnier cosplaying in too tight shapely tops and flak jackets with pockets full of important looking flak jacket shit for photo-ops might just do the trick.
I’m just gonna start April a bit early and pull the covers back over my head and hope I wake up to a better month that is hopefully less of a dick (good luck to that I say to myself) and just turn the calendar page.
So, there was, this weekend, a writing prompt from Sammi Cox who offers these on a regular basis. The latest was to use the word “revel” in a piece of prose or a poem with a goal of, this time around, exactly 69 words.
.
The Race At The End Of Three County Fair
She was the finest horse across three counties, four if you included Wayneer
No one ever included Wayneer
.
Her name?
Tomorrow
as she was fast as
.
She was entered in Three County Fair’s grand finale
Ya know I have been Jonesin’ for the longest time now to get to a new tune, doesn’t matter what, a parody maybe for these current fucked up times, maybe something that rhymes with tariff or Canada or Greenland or King or Vlad or Orban or other small minded little men dictators or ethnic cleansing for a new Riviera or muck Musk muck about with self interest the priority and conflicts be damned even those in China (don’t worry, I can police myself, even in China he says while snaking for China) a something to a cool instrumental I’ve found, maybe, with original lyrics in tow, possibly from a recent poem or short story, something silly even, anything, but I hadn’t quite found a comfy enough studio space in the new digs just yet with a tall enough chair … don’t ask, it’s a thing.
But I did find one.
To “Hit The Road Jack” then.
Hit the Road Facts
Hit the road facts and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more
Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more
.
Wha’d Zuck say?
.
Hit the road facts, time to show you the door, the door, the door, the door
Hit the road facts we, don’t need ya round here no more
.
Ol’ Zucky, Ol’ Zucky don’t treat facts so mean
You’re a coward t’wards the truth like we’ve never seen
If you say facts must go, we’ll prioritize speech ya know
.
What’s that?
.
Hit the road facts, with a barker in tails magaphone and black magic rabbit hat
Hit the road facts and don’t ya Zuck ‘round no more
.
Wha’d right saaaay?!!
.
Hit the road facts, true lies’ll have a brand new day and say and sway the way
Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more
.
Now baby listen baby this is newest Reich way
Won’t be stifled by the left who hold lies at bay
Don’t care if they do ‘cause we know the real truth
It’s what we decide, don’t need no sleuth
instead in this brand new age, we’ll paint facts just as we say
.
That’s right!
.
Hit the road facts, and now it’s your time to act, to act, to act, to act
Hit the road facts and throw some money in that hat
.
Wha’d you saaaay!!??
.
Hit the road facts, we’ve reached a new judgment day, this day, no other way
Hit the road facts, ya best get new truths all straight
.
Hit the road facts, and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more
Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more
.
Now Donnie ol’ Donnie and executive O’s
He’ll decree a new future with his MAGA in throes
He’ll rename Gulf’s of Mexico
With a straight face ain’t that beautiful Oh!
.
Hit the road facts, the truth’ll no longer know where’s it’s at, where it’s at, where it’s at
Hit the road facts and don’t bother tippin’ your cap
.
Hit the road facts, an Autocrat’ll tell ya his truth, his truth, his truth, his truth
Hit the road facts, cause democracy he wants lose
.
Now baby baby baby there’s a billionaire class
Who trip over themselves to lipstick his ass
They even paid for the right to grovel new Reich
Hoping keep good his side not dogs he might strike
‘Cause that’s just the new way
Truth’ll have a forced holiday
.
That’s right!
.
Hit the road facts and got’s keep this all straight, all straight, all straight, all straight
Hit the road facts while he makes liberty quake
.
Hit the road facts and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more
Bjorn at dVerse Poets has a prose challenge this week to write prose of 144 words including the line ‘There’s a lullaby for suffering‘ from Leonard Cohen’s tune “You Want It Darker”.
Last Pot Luck
Maggie brought a faux beef stew, she had an extra provision card she’d nicked, Selina brought chicken though she was saddened by it, Constance brought her last small vegetables thinking why not, Angie brought a State song with altered lyrics as There’s a need’s new lullaby for suffering, Maribel brought small sweet lip smacking things baked in her basement’s hidden basement that were presented on trays like old days, ones with views of the sea or dreamt flowers, Caroline brought pictures from slots in window sills in plain sight, her William was held somewhere because of them but he always said “un-hide them when you can”, the rest of the girls brought what they could for the Pot Luck, maybe the last one.
When we all received our first Covid checks, 12 hundred bucks I think it was, back around the time we started mainlining cleaning products and shining ultra violet lights up our asses according to the expert who knew all the sciency shit we needed to know to try and combat this new scourge of the planet, never even considering that WE might be the scourge in the first place and that maybe mother nature had finally figured out a “Fuck you” that didn’t involve great fires or great floods to put out great fires after great floods I bought a new computer.
I know, sorry, a bit anticlimactic there, but I bought a new computer, while sitting uncomfortably on a hot light bulb and feeling a bit lightheaded with a little blood on my tri-cep, to replace my old girl who was just limping along then, holding on to me only for the cat pictures and the power cord and asking that I please not forget her.
Don’t worry girlfriend, I said to her, I will transfer you into this new device and you will have a new life like some new freaky that is just around the corner. Then all the local wildlife started acting a bit wonky, repeating a lot of things that I sort of recognized from half-finished and half-baked things that I had started to write until I realized I was probably doing something wrong.
I mean, it might have just been me, but I don’t think raccoons spouting partial sentences of stuff I had only just started and almost only just remembered I wrote surely wasn’t quite right. Plus they also started taking breaks from their raccoon shenanigans and instead began hanging outside the convenience store with their right hand feets pressed bent kneed flat against walls with remembered cool cigarette wall leans.
Everything went swimmingly for a short while, for like 5 short minutes, until … well, they didn’t. It was then that I realized that of the 9 out of 10 Dells that are, from some old time’s old slogan, still on the road today, the internet and simple word document road, that mine had driven itself off into a ditch.
I weathered and gray haired and took naps (I’m old after all, so the naps were welcome) and I waited for little Delly to catch up with me.
It didn’t happen.
So now I am kind of back at square one as I have, again, bought a new computer, a one that I’ll figg’r how to pay for on Tuesday with an owed hamburger and a one that I am sure will lead me into the promised land of a new PC or laptop in this case, one that actually works with speed and efficiency and doesn’t have me windexing my internal organs for any reason.
Even now though, I am reticent to preach too loudly of the joys of something new that works as it should but I am still excited, like a little kid, and I even started smoking again against a satisfied propped pillow like in a movie (no I didn’t do that) and texted a couple of best friends of my joy, even sending them a picture of BellCrick (the registering of this new wonder asked me to name it … that’s what I gave … BellCrick though I know that sounds like a stream somewhere in Appalachia that don’t take too kindly to the new fangled of ya’lls and ya best watch yawselves
But I was still excited.
Ok, so a pic from a new computer land, a world of speedy wonder now and no longer a halted mystery as to when shit might actually open and stop having me teach innocent cats human words they should never have to learn.
Ok, heavenly horns you ready?
What?
Jesus … (sigh) … Larry are you ready on the heavenly horns?
For what?
Are you high again Larry?
Ummmmm … we’re in the clouds Bill, yeah I’m high
Fuck you Larry, no the horns of the big reveal?
Oh yeah, right, that … On it. Yo Stephens! Wake up, hit the horns!
What??
Ahhhh, son of a bitch (muttering …sometimes ya just gotta do things yourself) … just go back to sleep Stephens. Here ya go Bill …
HORNS OF AN ANGRY TRAFFIC JAM
SHIT!!! Sorry Bill, wrong horns
Never mind Larry (muttering … don’t listen girls, close your innocent cat ears … useless motherfuckers rasser frasser) …
Bella: Innocent cat ears?! Dude, seriously?! I’ve been living with you for 13 years, word innocence is long, long lost on this cat.
//////////////////////////////////////////
My sister, Beck, every holiday season, goes to Shutterfly with a boatload of pictures in hand and builds a calendar. She’s been doing this since even before Shutterfly existed, she just waited, patiently, builds a calendar as a “stocking stuffer” Christmas present for all of us, each month of the year replete with family photos, about six or seven or so per month.
It is such a welcome calendar relief as opposed to the last minute calendar gifts you search for at the mall to check off your last minute end of list lazies at the kiosk at the bottom of the escalator “Oh, I’m sure cousin Janine would love this one of puppies or Uncle Frank would like this one of frogs, or maybe long lost cousin Constance who you just discovered wasn’t actually dead and would be a new guest at Christmas dinner, this one of “Fight Clubs from ‘Round the World” would fit her present bill as you had heard rumors.
No, my Sis puts these together every year and to tell ya the truth it is the one gift that I look forward to the most. It is the one that truly just keeps on giving, every month, for a whole year, and I don’t look forward, instead waiting on monthly surprises of the reminders of fun and family and friends and for this year, as you look up to your right at your desk, you find your Overlord, Jillian in the Month of March (a band name there if there ever was one).
Yes Overlord Jillian, I believe in you in Overlord Jillian, can you stop looking at me like that Overlord Jillian please, your mocking, scrunchy lipped scrutiny of this simple man is most unwelcome and unwarranted Overlord Jillian. NO, I did NOT do something stupid … well, not this time.
All hail the Overlord!!!
//////////////////////////////////////////
Started my day earlier than usual today, around 5am, a Friday, a one where I couldn’t sleep and just said fuck it and peeled a Cricket the Cat off my chest and, after I showered and got set, I grabbed a pair of of cargo shorts from last Spring/Summer. Let’s just say that if I had attempted to wear them for an entire day I would have been singing in a higher pitch by the end of it.
They no longer fit, not by even a mile or a pants size or two or three by even a three mile couple of hundred feet. I really, as per my last post, need to do some walking, at least, just start.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Went to Ocean State Job Lot for some new shorts then, armed with the realization that my old has caught up with me, that I need to get my fat ass out of the house and do a walking circuit or two around the neighborhood on a regular basis. Maybe even say Hi to people and pet their dogs along my way.
My sister has three cats, one of which is Rikki who I call “Chunky Pants” a furry, wobble wobble walk wobble wobble walk wobble wobble furry bowling ball with the head of a cat who has now said to me, with her upwards look “That Chunky Pants shit ain’t really all that funny anymore now is it Mister? And I am a lady thank you, don’t be talking about my weight!”
Oh, Ocean State also had some sneaks, just past the foreign crackers and foreign fruits and nuts and just before the rugs. And it does some fine rugs by the way, Ocean State does, but never ones large enough to roll a body into so you know they are legitimate, at least I don’t think so, but, to be safe I’m not really gonna check. But the sneaks? They’re London Fog, whodaknew? I mean I could make deals on bridges in WWII or Cold War flicks for state and military secrets not only in a trench coat and but in cool (ugly) kicks as well? Nice!.
I’ll assume that London Fog also sells fedora’s to complete the look. Have to keep my eyes open for that.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Stopped into Dollar General earlier for some sponges and Tums, industrial lubricant and Heshey’s kisses (hey don’t judge plus I was just kidding, I didn’t buy Tums) and to check the latest in their dollar aisle and remembered that they have pillows, figured I could use some new ones, as who couldn’t use some new pillows, those sleep stains of your sweaty ass head could surely use a pillow upgrade, especially for cats to argue over.
//////////////////////////////////////////
My breakfast, or dinner or lunch always involves some reading, usually anything just for some words that are strung with meaning and to stay on top of things and are often found in the opinion pieces at the Washington Post, so many good ones there, once anyway, before Jeff Bezos has his plan of acquiescence to the King come to to fruition which just pisses me off but also scares the bejeesus, whatever or whoever the hell bejeeus is, out of me at the same time.
“How have we come this close?” I say while also noting what a self serving and evil prick our extra President is as a side note, though it’s always good to have a backup, I guess, and a one that would present a pretty interesting dynamic should this now actual President suddenly give heart stop way courtesy of those quarter pounders of his from Secret Service runs, in the middle of the night, and leave us with a temporary Christmas-like reprieve come that morning.
Oh, to dream.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Checked Neatorama, as I always do for a bit of a 10 minute break, a site highly recommended by the way for just such, if you didn’t already know, and came across a band, Analog Society, who it seems are pretty darn good at mashups but who also have this cool ass tune and cool ass video and leave me this perfect cool ass spot to get out of here before I get upset at my last point (and it has horns and a really pretty girl who can just belt it!!)
What Overlord!? I was just noting pretty and cool horns and pipes. Give me a break will ya!?!?
Have this friend that I met through dVerse Poets, Paul (and a thank you to dVerse for such) an absolutely wondrous writer/poet whose work just astounds me and he recently wrote this at his site, Parallax
Bloody Paradise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Note: I wrote this in response to GP at Pacific Paratrooperfollowing our respective comments on his post “Letter IX “A Day’s Venture” which is a post about his father Pvt. Everett “Smitty” Smith’s letter to his mother in regard to a rest day spent around Buna after allied forces liberated it. The post was in September 2024 (linked above).
Pacific Paratrooper is a blog based around the life and service of Smitty with the Headquarters Company/187th Regiment/11 Airborne during WWII. Follow the links above to read GPs excellent work.
“The war continues working, day and night.” Dunyah Mikhail
Bloody Paradise
Some things catch us by surprise like the irony of a sabbath amidst the trail of death and destruction in an ever moving theatre of war, feelings about shame and waste momentarily cleared by observations of the ordinary and mundane albeit cultural experiences allied with peace and quiet buddies swimming in pristine bejewelled water shaded by coconut trees majestic, a veritable paradise framed by a cemetery screaming “death becomes us,” as Buna now breathes Buna becomes today tomorrow … if not this war, then the next.
/////
Well, this poem and the line “Death becomes us” struck me and I thought to take a bit of a liberty and write a “response”.
/////
Death Becomes Us
Death becomes us
said General to a friend
in kinder times
when this was just pieces
on a board
a game
over seas distance
closer now
or skies resistance
closer now
and simple regrets
closer now
like a kiss not had
from that pretty girl
at that pretty café
on that pretty shore of a foreign land
to be felt another day
but friend General had dispatched
in quick fashion in need
as only needs need
according to ordered needs
.
I have medals he said
.
Death becomes us
said the dispatched
wishing General hadn’t said that
I had other friends
really
he thought
who didn’t take this so seriously
and danced to tune
in kinder times
it was just a game
.
Death becomes us
said Devil and Lord
puffed chests
In accord
you have done our warned
work
all on your own
you wanted, you played
you moved pieces on a board
you played Devil and Lord
toward
an unquestioned end
.
Death becomes us
always becomes us
in dirt too soon
General
too soon
.
Tell her I think of her
her little pretty
or just pretty
in general
General
at that pretty little café
on that pretty foreign shore
wished
pretty
once
/////
Hope I did a justice in this uncalled call & response Paul
So, I stopped at Panera earlier today for a breakfast sandwich on my way to work. When I pulled in there were just a couple of cars kind of randomly parked in the middle portion of spots, 24 total, 6 on 6 in one section and 6 on 6 in another with more on either end of this middle.
I parked, away from the other two cars and made my way in, joining just those other couple of folks, ordered and waited.
While I waited, checking some news headlines on my phone which I should NOT have done, especially not on an empty stomach as, if you’re going to wretch, food is a waaaaay better wretch than bile, another few folks came in and then my order was ready and I made my way back out to the lot, the middle portion of the lot, that one that has the 24 parking spaces, only two of which were occupied, as I said, when I pulled in.
When I got to my car though, Lilly, who is not in any need of new car pals?
Ok, so here’s the thing, person who arrived after me, and also parked in the center portion of this Panera’s parking lot with those 24 almost all unoccupied spots?
I don’t care if you didn’t get enough hugs from your mother when you were a child, that maybe you didn’t have a lot of friends and the ones you did have were a little standoffish because you were a bit too needy or that maybe you were the one that was always picked last for whatever team game was at hand.
It is not my job, via my car, in an almost empty parking lot to be the one to help you compensate for that loneliness.
AND, WTF?!
You pulled in so our driver’s doors were adjacent to each other??!! I mean, you willingly chose to park so close that you would have to almost squeeze out of your car like liquid?!
Hey, my car is not your surrogate friend and I don’t need to be dragged into whatever issues you have that you’ve been harboring, possibly crying yourself to sleep at night with, since childhood.
AND you made me have to squeeze INTO my car like liquid as well and, in my advancing years, I have acquired that cliché’d spare tire that I really need to do something about, maybe come Spring I tell myself, I’ll start walking again I tell myself, as I am not as thin and liquid as I used to be and though I appreciate the reminder and that maybe you were just trying to give me a little unintentional nudge, I had just read some news headlines on an empty stomach and was in no mood for your needy/possibly well intentioned shit.
Park too close to your therapist’s car in your therapist’s lot Ok?!
Leave me the fuck out of your issues while at Panera!
You know, I should probably pick up some new walking shoes/sneaks though, Spring IS almost here.
Scene set: Back in August of last year I moved out of a roommate situation that I had moved into out of a solo living situation that I moved out of into that roommate situation that I then needed to move out of, quickly, with a case of new roommate buyer’s remorse, back in said August into my current situation which is still roommatey but better roommatey, family roommatey plus I get text updates of the goings on and goings about at the house from my Sister and sometimes my nephew, Matt.
It’s almost always exclusively cat pictures. No, it’s ALWAYS exclusively cat pictures except for that one time that Matt sent me a picture from his back pocket … never realized how dark and blank and shapeless back pockets really were. It was almost eerie, a bit chilling, such a void and it spoke to the meaning of man or even him possibly just forgetting where his phone was and sitting on it.
/////
Ok, timeline
Fall 2017- Spring 2024 – solo living, great pad, cats (fluctuating #) upstairs (my apartment) and downstairs (landlady’s house) dogs downstairs (quite a wonderfully barky number – landlady’s house) very vocal and cool bird (downstairs – landlady’s house)
Almost Christmas 2023 – young woman decides, in a busy three lane roadway, with she in the middle lane and me in the left, that she suddenly needs to be on a side street across that left lane without looking as apparently whatever drew her to this sudden side street need turn was of the utmost importance and trumped the looking left. Though I don’t recall any signs for a tag sale, or yard sale, or garage sale, or flea market, or estate sale or whatever sale might have been in wait, the only real reason for such a turn, with signs stuck into yards on thin metal prongs, it was enough to drive me off the road just before this side street almost into a retaining wall of what looked to be a very nice home, with surely very nice folks, nice family, with maybe their own cats and dogs and a bird.
Example, by the way, of just that that one seeming “nothing” thing that can throw shit in a bad whirl and force you to scramble.
Post almost Christmas 2023 and now into 2024 – Sudden new car payment, increased insurance payment, “Sorry sir, but hindering some possibly great deals at a tag sale, or yard sale, or garage sale, or flea market or estate sale has you in the wrong. Now pony up! And did you find out if there was anything cool there by the way? Have you kept in contact with the young woman?”
I could no longer swing the rent with new $$$ additions and never got the young woman’s name to see if she had found something worth the side street turn to satisfy the insurance. Maybe some plates and tea cups and tea cup plates (those with that little tea cup indent) that were almost a complete set, though a number were chipped, or that painting of dogs playing poker that was an original and had her on Antique Road Show gushing
April 2024 – July 2024 – Roommate situation, aforementioned roommate remorse.
After some finaglin’ and figgur’n and damning my misfortune of missing that once in a lifetime set of almost complete plates and tea cups with their own cute little indent plates and original dogs playing poker prints I found a better sitch, as the kids might say…
August 2024 – Current day
Got a text from my Sis earlier, that roommate of my new better roommateyness of Bella, and not some disturbing black void from Matt’s back pocket, but of Bella actually being in the living room, upstairs, in my new landlady’s house.
Bella, for her 13 years now, has always been a just “Me” kinda girl and could get a little freaky at anyone other than me. It wasn’t always that way but she has warmed to this new situation and has even let the sis and the nephew reach a hand and grab a pet and maybe has even said “Dad, I love ya but …”
She apparently had been welcomed to the stage of the Schenectady City Kitty Hall to much fanfare and even with a smoke machine with a grand entrance of some humidifying menthol vapors (beck has had a bit of a persnickety cough lately)
So Crazy Cat Lady Guy Tip # 354?
I you ever find yourself in a situation where your sister sends you a picture of your antisocial cat being a rock star in a living room upstairs after a multiple change of living situations, in less than a year and the regret of missing some possibly great deals at a tag sale, or yard sale, or garage sale, or flea market, or estate sale but still finds herself to rock her band of Bella Bell and the Unblinking Stares know that you are not alone.
Bella: Shut up Steve! Bringing down the house here!!”
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
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A personal exploration of autism from a brother’s perspective, including family relationships, philosophy, neuroscience, mental health history and ethics
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