This first appeared on The Final Straw

I’m nuts. Totally bonkers.

I just found out last month. And, quite frankly, I was relieved. Up until the mental health people brought my file for my review and I saw the diagnosis, I thought everything I was seeing in the world was really happening… And I mistakenly thought I had a good grasp of what it all meant.

Turns out, I’m just a fruitloop. I can sleep much better now. It’s not the WORLD that’s gone mad, it’s just ME. I’m as mad as an 18th century glue sniffer in a hat factory. The mental health professionals of the Ohio Department of Retribution and Correction said so. So, I can stop worrying about the state of our world and the evil designs of the privileged few, the reign of terror we all face under a global tech-surveillance police state. I can better spend my time skipping naked around my cell or sculpting busts of dead presidents out of piles of my own harvested boogers. In fact, that’s probably what’s expected of me.

As a total whack-job, I’ve been quite a disappointment.

But, in my defense, I didn’t KNOW I was loony-toons. When I got locked away in 1991, the headshrinkers of the prison system subjected me to several batteries of tests, gleaning everything they could about my mind and its workings. I remember some of the tests were quite fun. You had to rate yourself– most like me, or least like me, and read the statements. I remember one of them was, “I like manly women,” and there were a bunch of strange ones that related to how I felt about my mom.

Most psych tests are veritable giggle-fests.

At any rate, in 1991, the shrinks found I was perfectly normal. They entered “NO DIAGNOSIS” into my file. That same diagnosis remained in my file year after year, even through 2005 when Toledo Warden Khelleh Konteh had me hidden at the prison system’s nuthouse for a month after his staff assaulted me. The shrinks recognized I had physical wounds, but there was nothing wrong with my mind.

So, given this long, involved pattern of mental health professionals confirming my sanity, you could see how I could make the mistake of trusting my own sense of things and believing the world to be as I perceived it, right?
Turns out, nobody realized I was ziggity-boo until at least 2012– right after I wrote that article explaining how prisons director Gary C. Mohr is a sock puppet for corporate profits… After his counsel Trevor Clark put the fix in on the 12 Monkey frame-up… And at their weekly naked Twister game at the office, they brainstormed every possible way to ensure I die in prison.

Then suddenly, and under no influence from Gestapo Gary or Trainwreck Trevor, the grand poo-bah of the prisons’ shrink department decided I have ANTI-SOCIAL PERSONALITY DISORDER. So, RIGHT AFTER the torture-wonks who run the prison system decided they hated me, I went, overnight, from completey normal to absolutely wiggy-wiggy with no bathroom breaks in between.

Pretty amazing, huh?

And just so you know, ANTI-SOCIAL PERSONALITY DISORDER is not as bad as it sounds. It’s worse. Let me read a bit of the diagnostic definition so you can get a sense of what behaviors characterize this disorder.

Here goes:
“There is a pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others occurring since age 15 years, as indicated by… failure to conform… to lawful behaviors… deception… repeatedly lying… conning others… impulsivity… irritability… aggressiveness… failure to sustain consistent work… lack of remorse… being indifferent… rationalizing having hurt, mistreated or stolen from another…”

I’m bat-shit crazy. Probably can’t say, “bat-shit.” It’ll come out, “bat-isht.” I’m bat-isht crazy.

So, I hope you can understand, once I found out how I really was, given this diagnosis, I didn’t even feel safe being locked in the same room with me. Parole board won’t feel safe either. And to think, I’ve been like this since age 15 and fooled everyone, including myself. At least, according to the diagnosis. So, I’m not sure what the Department of Retribution and Corruption discovered about my behavior at age 15 when I was 43, but it must be serious.

But the bigger question is, how much crazier does the prison system have to make me before I’m no longer a danger to the public and get released? After all, they have billions of dollars and several decades to do the important work of driving 50,000 other prisoners bat-isht crazy.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sculpting Richard Nixon.

This is Ohio Governor-in-Exile Elect Sean Swain from Ohio’s supermax facility. If you’re listening, you ARE the resistance…