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.
In a recent Facebook post of a bit of good news on my front and amid a number of replies I got one from an old friend Linda, who, after commenting on said post, added that her husband has been singing “one of my greatest hits” recently and I immediately realized that, shit, I’m a bit late on reposting this “one of my greatest hits” that Linda’s husband has been singing!
Now, the one of my greatest hits? It’s a Christmas tune about their cat Patrick that I will be posting now, all holiday tradition-like, for the fourth year in a row.
Quick history:
Linda posts picture of cat Patrick next to Christmas ornaments four Christmas’s ago with the caption “It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick”
I see post and immediately start singing, in my head, the beginning of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” except with cat Patrick instead and then can’t stop until I’ve written new, Patrick-centric, cat-centric lyrics for the whole thing. I then respond to Linda with “Ok, so you do know that dropping “It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick” is like dropping a gauntlet full of beer and cat nip to a to a crazy cat lady guy who likes to do this sort of thing right?” followed by posting the new lyrics and Bing Crosby’s video of the actual song for her to follow along with
Linda is happy. Responds with a “Wow”, an “AWESOME”, a number of exclamation points and even a Wayne and Garth “We are not worthy!” GIF
I am happy … for like 5 minutes knowing I’m not done, can’t be done. I search out an instrumental of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” and take that with me into my studio at work and then send home the pieces to mix with maybe a little Christmas production magic
Four years later Linda’s husband is singing the tune during the season in anticipation and Linda is also telling me that Patrick (and his tail Sebastian – apparently it is its own being entirely) are also waiting
it’s fun, it’s catly and it’s Christmassy.
Nuff said.
Cheers to you Patrick (and Sebastian) as always, you damn good looking Christmas cat … and tail.
‘Tis the season Patrick.
It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Patrick
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Everywhere Pat goes
Take a look in his snug cat bed laying his Patrick head
With maybe a mouse or two under his toes
.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Fur on every rug
Till the monster is need brought out
To suck away all hair’s clout
While Patrick runs no doubt
.
An extra can can of food or some cat nip for mood
Is his wish as any cat would
Ball with a bell and a knock it to hell
Is new wish across some hardwood
.
And Mom and Dad do funny dance to not step on cat’s pants
.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Everywhere Pat goes
.
There’s a tree that is soon to rise
Each branch a new cat prize
The hanging kind just waiting for a fall
.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Snoozing underneath
And what brings that slumber best
Are the lights not put to test
With Christmas cats now at rest
.
(break)
.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Runnin’ cross the floor
To every cat’s Christmas dream
And the presents that will be
Box torn paper all a-skew
.
Sure it’s Patrick once more … time to puke, time to puke it’s Patrick’s time to puke.
Hi and welcome to the Condo, I’m Cricket of said blog title and I write of just my everyday cat here, sometimes funny, sometimes scratchfelt, sometimes angry where I meowl to the cat heavens like I’m at a cat funeral, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that just needs to be buried in the box … like really buried, like spend some real quality catman-like time scratching and swiping and spinning and dancing small circles and dragging and burying them.
Mostly though I write about napping and eating and litter boxing and napping and eating and litter boxing some more and splashing water out of water bowls onto the pee pads underneath them because, well, I do that, a lot. Hey, every cat’s got “a thing” right? Sometimes, I even feel a little poetic like that guy of mine and through osmosis, or lapmosis, I have come to write some pieces of my own.
I am blind too, just to let you know, though there was a time many cat lives ago where I wasn’t but I don’t let that hinder me from my catversing keyboard scribbling/stepping as I write in a stream of cat free step style. I am mostly deaf as well though that does help to not hear the things no one wants to hear from the world these days and to temper the reactions from aforementioned guy who I surely annoy with my water bowling and his constant need changing of pee pads and the stepping across a face with wet paws in the middle of the night.
If you’re joining me here, I thank you but just mind your feet for me and that other one, Bella (I love her, but she only just bears with me I think) and for my guy (he can be quite adept at dancing after years of cat my counterclockwise circles underfoot practice so don’t you worry). And don’t step on his face with those wet paws in the middle of that night by the way, that’s mine, ’cause then I might just have to startle the cat poop out of you with an unexpected meowl right in your left ear.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Latest prompt at the dCats Sitting Fence website was to write of something that just struck you, in the moment, something in the stream of cat free step style, right in my Cricket wheelhouse I thought, though, as I think about it some more, that’s pretty much every prompt at dCats Sitting Fence “something that struck you right in the moment” … the occasional write about your love/hate with a stuffed mouse or about things that only the cat saw from the end of the bed or banished to the nightstand sure, or bouncing plastic bell balls but, no, mostly that immediate stream of cat free step.
So my latest then in the Condo with an assist from my guy.
//////////////////////////////////////////
From Beyond the Lap
The often too many friends in my head said112222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222220222222222222222222222222222222222222222’;[
You know, what you did there Cricket, with the couple of 1’s followed by the 2’s really hit home. Such a lovely thought that you are your 1’s 2.
Powers says:
September 18, 2025
Hold on … (cough cough choke cough … spit) … sorry, someone REALLY needs to vacuum this f’in place … Wow, that space there Cricket, in the middle? I have no idea what it means. Deep.
Ms Cat says:
September 18, 2025
I love the line “Vnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkmkwe know”
Yeah, we know.
Pixie says:
September 18, 2025
How cute am I? Oh, and great cat poem.
Martin says:
September 19, 2025
Well done Cricket!! But, and I hope I’m not being insensitive here, but how do you find the litter box? I’m guessing it’s all through an overly sensitive sense of smell but well, and I know me, the whole house knows me, I have issues there, I hear the screams, “Dammit Martin!”, is it ever too overwhelming?
Stock Image
September 19, 2025
I know it’s a pretty bad name though AI finds it cool but doesn’t understand what it is that you wrote. I think you may have broken it.
Tish
September 19, 2025
You know Cricket I was breaking this down and at first I thought this just might be nonsense but then I looked further and? It is still nonsense, cat nonsense. Nicely done. Though who is MKM or KMK? I have a catcast, “Tish Cat, Dishes”, would love for you to join in and talk to us about it!
Man, it was such a nice afternoon drive on my way home Friday, especially with a boss guy emailed “go home early, you’re appreciated” most welcome missive, that weather that you wish would just stay year round, an almost perfect perfect where I had my windows and sunroof open wide, the slow fade of another summer alright I guess, right here in this moment, but then THAT guy caught up and passed me, the one in the pickup truck so tall that it could block out the sun, if you were maybe sitting in a Stewart’s parking lot after grabbing their 2 hot dogs for 6 bucks daily special for dinner as it pulled up or driving too close on your ride and the sun would be pissed, “Hey! Don’t be fuckin’ with my gig!”.
The truck that needs an extension ladder to climb into, the driver surely hoping every day that he didn’t forget anything he needed, like his wallet or his crushed hat or his man card or his apologies to his better half for everything he did or didn’t say, or his oversized flag that he stole from the front lawn of an elementary school, otherwise he would have to jump down with a leap of faith, grab and repeat the extension ladder process and that could definitely become tiresome. I mean there is only so much your knees can take right? And (sigh) … then I got stuck behind him for my 7 mile or so stretch on this roadway for the ride home.
He had tires to rival a semi, an exhaust pipe about the circumference of a 50 gallon drum that I think probably began the process of numerous future doctor’s visits to try and discover the cause of the four different forms of cancer that came from me just driving behind him with open windows and sunroofs while trees just got dang plum tired and fell over dead in his wake.
I was, though, able to finally pass him only to have some little fast and furious gnat of a car, the one with that fancy blueish green paintjob that seems like an illusion, pass the both of us, with dual, though, thankfully, only about 25 gallon drum exhaust pipes, a little Vin Diesel slider that sounded like an angry dirt bike on angrier steroids and I just about gave up.
I hate all of you by the way.
But I did eventually make my way home where I practically ran to the flowers in my sister’s front yard and the bushes that surround them, dropped to my knees and took a deep breath, probably something that worried the neighbors … the nosy ones who are surely always watching … “You see Walter?! I told you that one was on the drugs!!”
… and then there was Arthur, my sister’s orange fella guarding the gate to the hold, the great beast, but he didn’t even bother me a glance, no, this was his spot, his domain to survey like some sort of lazy cat land baron “You finally arrived I see? (looking aside in utter disdain) grand, now go and fetch me some treats if you will and then be gone with you. Tithes backup human, tithes, gotta pay the tithes before I allow you to pass”.
I ruined his Baron treat plans and went in through the garage.
//////////////////////////////////////////
So, it’s a holiday weekend, and my Sis and nephew Matt have headed down the state to hang with Beck’s guy, Buck and the gang at his place and I am the cattaker again, and it’s not a gig I take lightly.
It’s a one where I lay down the law and tell these here cats, Saphira and Rikki and Arthur that I’m not fucking around, and Bella and Cricket too, then I ask them what flavor food would they like now at breakfast or dinner, opening cat cans under cat noses, the beef one or the salmon one or the beef and salmon one combined in one can like magic, all deliciously cat stinky, sometimes pate or sometimes grilled or sometimes even chunked and then I just wait for cat approval while scratching their foreheads.
Now take that!!
And Arthur?
He keeps Mom informed.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Letter from the orange land baron’s sun spot:
Hey Mom,
No worries while you’re away though I miss you and Matt already but I’m keeping an eye on my backup human, he can be a little sketchy and talks a lot, to no one it seems, maybe imaginary friends? I don’t know and he talks too much I think, what is he hiding in his talk, talk, talk? But I’m offering moral support to his loud warm post noisy machine clothes stuff and I don’t do this without personal risk by the way, as I lay up against a random pair of underwear.
Clean? Stinky? Not sure, it’s a crap shoot (Ha! see what I did there Mom?) but I am here for him should he need me and also to keep an eye … I did mention him being a little sketchy right?
Holding the fort Mom.
Love,
Arthur
//////////////////////////////////////////
But we’ve reached the end of another Summer, sadly so as Summer has always been the carrot for me and not just for the obviousness of it as it is bright and welcoming and warm and plays days old sport and allows time to really enjoy time, vacations are allowed and expected, your workplace turns into a ghost town while you trip over Summer tumbleweeds if you are still around. There is a laissez-faire nature to it before you have to hunker down again for the impending doom of Winter, because there is always a hunkering down and the impending doom of Winter.
Though the Fall may turn pretty as colors change and there will be those who extoll the virtues of it, it just ain’t summer any longer but anyway, I think in the long run, those are just the folks trying to justify the end of Summer, the time they will surely, sorely miss as much as me.
So I muddle through another end of Summer days, move my snow brush window scrape thingy from the back seat to the front (a bit early I know but it’s important to be prepared) and thank the please bring flat tires to monster pickup trucks just for the sake of humanity’s breath heavens and hunker down awaiting another Summer though it seems as if the clock is disproportionate now. Being old’ll do that. It gets faster and slower all at the same time.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Letter to my Sis from the basement:
Hey Beck,
No worries while you’re away though I miss you and Matt already but I’m keeping an eye on the cats, Arthur specifically, who just talks, talks, talks, bit of a sketchy little fella who has secrets I’m sure, what only the cat saw, but he has been a nice backup cat while Bella and Cricket are asleep, he even hung with me while I folded my laundry
But I’ll give him credit, he layed up against a random pair of underwear without even batting an Arthur eye and surely at his own personal risk.
Clean? Stinky? Not sure, it’s a crap shoot (Ha! see what I did there Beck?) but I am here for him should he need me and also to keep an eye … I did mention what only the cat saw right?
Broke out XTC’s “Oranges and Lemons” from back in ’89 earlier this week as the weather called for something that wasn’t my latest in the car, the slog of old school Deep Purple, in all their iterations.
Now for reference, I don’t listen to music any longer except in the car, 25 minutes at a time, Lilly, my six speed old man CD playing (ask grandma or grandpa about CD’s) girl. Love ya ol’ bluesy heavy metal but you can only go so far and you can be a bit dull. Are you loud, yes, loud is good, has always been good (sorry Ma, I’ll turn it down) especially with open windows, but are you bright and bouncy and lyrically damning and compelling and biting enough for sunny days? No, that you are not.
I’ve been a music only in the car for the longest time now where I used to be an always in the foreground or at least in the background as a subtle soundtrack of days. Should I worry that things are falling off, that once loves have been so easily discarded like baseball (not my doing) or relationships for instance? (reasons) or more, just altered?
I don’t know and I probably should be a little concerned that I don’t really care I guess. I mean I like to hear new things, usually at work where we sometimes build spots with new music, but at this point in my oldness I have my comforts and going back to Deep Purple or The Rainmakers or The Silencers or Alan Parsons or Bob Mould or XTC works just fine for me. I just don’t really feel the need to invest myself in anything new, I’m pretty full in that old regard, though I do look forward to something new from MonaLisa Twins at some point, the only “new” that has caught my fancy in the longest of time.
No, I’m good, I have words and cats and my sister has cats, they sing well enough at my feet at the crack of stinky can or on a set of stairs, one of them just needs to learn how to play guitar or even bass … not drums though, I don’t wanna have to hit a broomstick on a wall like a cranky old landlady.
Including an Arthur … apologies, I kinda talk pretty loud …
“Really Steve, you don’t say”
“What?”
… something I am always reminded of in videos but then forget when taking a video. But ya gotta love his eventual southern belle-esque turn of disdain here, a “Why my Lord, I neva …” the only thing missing being him holding a dramatic paw up to his face.
Now back to XTC and “Oranges and Lemons” their “Sgt Pepper” or from the artwork their “Yellow Submarine” (every band wants to have their own). I had the hardest time trying to decide which tune from it to present in this post as this album is just perfect, and I have only come across a handful or so that would meet that “perfect” mark for me, filled with so many great choices of tune and so many that even sing to our current times from 36 years ago and with Arthur’s disdain.
(writer’s note to self: This isn’t Facebook numbnuts, you can put more than one video here… Oh, right …)
Ok, so three then.
And close with pictures of cats … there’s always pictures of cats.
Saphira The Diva …
Rikki The Raspy … dude, can ya run down the street and get me a pack of smokes …
My Sis, Beck, at the end of last week was down in Wallkill, a few hours south of us here, for a couple of days and when she is gone for day or two, or possibly more, I will happily be tasked with being the caretaker (or cattaker if you will) of her three, Sephira, Arthur and Rikki (Rikki the oversized Cat Weeble who wobbles, wobbles, wobbles and wobbles with a bit of a jiggle, jiggle, jiggle wobbled in there for good measure, but doesn’t fall down …
… unless she’s tired and just plops, but that is NOT a Weeble wobbling AND falling down thing as, well, they just DON’T, as clearly evidenced above here in this piece of Weeble commercial history. No, that would be just entirely of a cat’s own free will and something cats are wont to do which Rikki will surely remind with a raspy cigarette “been hard times Man” sounding meow and a side-eyed glance if you even raise the question.
Nephew Matt can also be tasked for the assist here but he works nights and isn’t up in the mornings because of that, unlike me, so I can easily get both ends of the feeding schedule and gladly slave tirelessly over a hot cracked can of fancy feast stove and help keep them in meowing good fed health and spirits too as I will also throw some petting and conversation in the mix and, though, I am surely a poor backup for “Mom”, they muddle meow through with me anyway (the whole selfless hot can stove cracking food thing helps a great deal in this regard).
I’d like to think, though, that after 8 months or so of me being around, of me being simply an “extra guy”, a one from up the basement like some sort of troll, that maybe it is less of just a muddle, meowing around but maybe a welcome change of feeding pace and welcome extra company.
Cats do love themselves some extra company after all. “Who you? … well, got a forehead and a belly for a scratch here if you are so inclined, oh, this is a test by the way”.
Arthur is fine example as when Mom is away, and his backup human, Matt, is at work, I become the backup, backup human, and I will often find him at my feet, damning the dire world of possible trolls and possible stories of them eating cats, maybe in a Grimm Tale somewhere and, instead, find him trolling, lolling, lounging around behind me at my feet while I’m doing a bit of laundry.
I have mentioned before, in a number of posts, that I am the stereotypical pathetic single dude with a couple of cats who lives in his Mom’s basement, but the not quite stereotypical pathetic single older brother and uncle dude with a couple of cats who lives in his SISTER’S basement and that I just weather the cliche. But I got to change my short-lived roommate attempt at saving a few dollars situation from 8 months or so ago, to instead reconnect with family in an immediate daily way and my Sis and Nephew have been afforded the glorious opportunity to live with me, surely throwing parties in their heads every day at their good fortune but where I never ask of either of them their definitions of glorious or what they may find to be good fortune.
This though, really, has been a Godsend if whoever he is, is actually in the business of sending sendings. I have been able to give my Bella and my Cricket some much needed space in this troll’s new spacious basement place, away from the tiny bedroom in that aforementioned short-lived roommate dollar save attempt while giving my Sis a backup human to be able to turn to for some cat assistance and maybe some welcome long lost conversation between us at a dining room table or in the living room over some greenish, English accented reality show and also give her a few extra dollars while saving me quite a few at the same time, something that is most welcome believe me (I may love what I do to death but I ain’t flush).
I’d also like to think, just as with Beck’s cats, (it’s sill just a test but you are passing) that maybe my company is alright, I mean I am not an unlikable fella, I can be pretty entertaining, sometimes unintentionally in a slapstick or dad, dog joke kinda way, pretty entertaining even intentionally on occasion, I sometimes even say things that can be considered to be quite smart and prescient and Bella and Cricket get some extra hello’s and attention that they wouldn’t have gotten otherwise, living alone minus me during the day, without this new situation, especially Cricket.
She is blind and deaf and a bit older and where, in the past she may have meowled to the cat heavens in her heartbreaking sounding way, during the day, maybe feeling lonely and afraid she now has some backup humans if they are around to hear her pleas, to come downstairs to give her a pickup and a hug and some warm assurance.
Matt even took her out front of the house recently on his shoulder just to feel some breeze and some life.
Something I myself can do as well with her on a little back porch.
And Bella? She comes upstairs to just say what the fuck while also knowing this is Ok.
Plus, as a landlady, which Beck is when ya get to the nuts and bolts of it (hey, what of that water pressure by the way lady?! hehe) what better troll of a tenant can you ask for than one who will never be bringing any girlfriend relationship drama around and poundings on the wall or ceiling or floors (that kind of need has flown and really isn’t even understood anymore which I find quite strange and yet makes so much sense) but a tenant that wants just a cool place, with family for company, some extra cats to mind and a spot to sit in, in a comfy troll’s basement stringing together some words while also having and being some backups.
And, oh, before I forget, back to Arthur, of said post title.
He and Sephira are inside/outside cats so when the wrangling has you having Arthur being an in? The one who is usually the much harder grab?
Apologies my little Orange friend … now how about we wrangles that sister of yours and be done for the night?
It was a bit of a week in Frankenland, yes, simple radio commercial/podcast producer guys have those too, not that that is a thing you think about for comparison, but it was a bit of a week nonetheless.
All I wanted to do at the end of it was to just sit, as I have mentioned before, just sit. Though I realize there are many things that are better and healthier than just sitting, like anything other than just sitting, maybe line dancing on a Wednesday night with Kacey and the girls, or tennis with unfound friends at that country club back when, when they declined my application for what I don’t know (Hey! that was just once and Mrs Wagaman’s rose bushes grew back just fine the next year thank you! No, I didn’t know her husband was the chairman of the country club board) I did though get a kiss from THE most popular girl in school courtesy of a few rose bushes (I think, memory gets a bit hazy right around then) and in front of people! PEOPLE! (still hazy) and screw you, I didn’t play tennis anyway.
I wanted to only do just that, sit, damning the possible healthy of a walk but not damning the computer chair with a cat on a lap.
But one of the things I like to do in this just sitting is to put my headphones on, the one’s only held right ear together now with spit and duct tape (a bit scratchy and sticky and wet but workable) and listen to some of my stuff, my old parodies to see if they still stand, which of course they do, just dated, I mean he hasn’t really changed all that much other than being more empowered in his authoritarian dreams.
Anyway, I also did do some tunes then that weren’t the doom and gloom of an orange.
I figured at the time to branch out and get my head out of the morass (see what I almost did there?)
This was one of my first and and a long time favorite still (also another I did at the time, We Let Billy Drive The Car). Just something to an instrumental I had found and the remembering of old girlfriends.
It is something I have posted and re-posted before but why not again?
Hell, this shit is mine and so is this blog so …
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She Said (Old T-shirt Song)
She said where have you been because ya seem lost
Feel like I’m living a fever dream but at what cost
Where you’re here one day then gone the next is this a test
I’m even wearing that old T-shirt that you liked the best
—
But is it yours or mine I’m not quite sure
Did I even one time even know this band I forget the tour
Found it on the floor newly washed I’m sure I think it’s yours
But you’re somewhere gone I think I must report you lost
—
We used to be on page in the same book
And you would give me looks to make me bend around with you
And send me stars as dots to connect of how you and I were them
Until we reached the moon no lookin’ back just … postcards to send
—
She said we sillied with the best of them
Made others envy green when they couldn’t contend with us they bled
That green and not just in the month of March is what they jigged
You’d make us angry year round if we could only ever be mad at you …
—
But you’re missing now … she said
What’s happened to you … where is your head
But you’re missing now … she said
What place do you go … one that isn’t our stead
You’re missing now … she said
Is it a place where I can bring you back now from the dead
———-
I guess this T-Shirt’s mine now is what she says
I think I might just even have to wear it to bed
But not with thoughts of you if that’s somehow in your head
No I won’t be wearin’ it long … that’s what he said
—
No it’ll hit the floor running as he gives me looks
To bend around with him in writing pages fresh book
And he sends me new stars on new trips to the moon
This is to a daily poetry thing for this month I wasn’t aware of and that I obviously haven’t followed along with, but day five did come up earlier for me and the prompt is here … a graph of three columns to basically choose one from each.
Now I’m sure I didn’t quite keep to the prompt exactly but from the three columns I went with “crazy eyes here”, “hymn” and “moonlight”
So, anyway …
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I’m Ready
I steal steely crazed glances between the blinds
through goggle glasses with cool blinder flaps
and a crushed torn beat bent brim ballcap
in moonlight
peeking from out a blanket …
with binoculars too
under chairs and baseball bats
and plungers and sticks I gathered during the day
for stand in the heels of sneakers
that no one would miss
unless there was suddenly company and mom presented trays
or an incident in the bathroom
or the woods missed their kids
or if game time suddenly discovered night had been turned to day
just something THEY would do
… draped over pillows and nosing cats and snoring dogs and sci-fi books
and I waited
by flashlight for the louding star hymns only I could hear
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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