AN OPEN LETTER TO LAWRENCE MONEY

Dear Lawrence Money,

Last night I was thinking of calling it a life. Again.

I’ve had some sort of mental illness since I was around 18 – a mental illness that psychiatrists file under “schizophrenia” along with the different mental illnesses of different people, some far more ill than myself – and I’m firmly of the opinion I’ve been left brain damaged by the 18+ years I’ve been forced, on and off and on again, to accept injections of antipsychotic medication. Antipsychotics shut down parts of your brain, you see, and after around 12 months those parts atrophy. And antipsychotics have stolen my teeth! What kind of doctor swears to “first, do no harm” and then forces people to take drugs that not only shrinks your brain but rots your teeth?

But probably the worst thing I have to endure is my longstanding psychological disturbance, which has only grown worse every year I’ve been treated by psychiatrists, especially since October 2006.

Lawrence, from October 2006 until this very day in October 2018, many psychiatrists (including many top psychiatrists) have hysterically blown my mental illness way out of proportion. At Northern Health, at Eastern Health and for the last 5 years at the Alfred hospital, many psychiatrists have all officially deemed me to be delusional for holding beliefs that are clearly sane, so clearly sane, in fact, that the conclusion is unavoidable: every psychiatric representative of the state of Victoria I have been forced to see since 2006 has been corrupt.

No doubt for various reasons, they’ve all demonized me and you’re not helping Lawrence.

As you are aware, one of my so-called delusional beliefs concerns some things you wrote for The Age in 2005.

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As you are aware, on the Monday before Melbourne Cup Day 2005, I emailed the following Confucius quote to both the gossip columnists at the Herald Sun and you and Suzanne Carbone, the gossip columnists at The Age…

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As you can see, The Herald Sun responded fairly directly by at least mentioning my name.

Such directness, alas, was not for you.

After immediately ridiculing me in a deliberately cryptic email message and I threatened to egg you in return, in the same week I emailed you the Confucius quote you sent me cryptic and not-so-cryptic secret messages via your old gossip column in The Age in order to ridicule my case of “paranoid schizophrenia”, a case you were previously made aware of when I spray-painted “Read Between The Lines” on the old Age building.

I don’t know what this message is meant to mean other than “Here’s a coded message for you to decipher, ya paranoid loon!” Nothing most likely.

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But this secret message clearly attempts a half-assed apology for your secret messages (and who knows how many there were exactly) and reveals they were inspired not just by the Confucius quote I emailed you and the fact I threatened to egg you, but by the fact I had recently egged Paul Harris, the esteemed film guru and your former colleague at The Age, in the head in the street outside 3RRR FM. Am I right? You treated me as though I was a “yolk” or joke of a human in secret messages both before you sent the following half-assed apology and in the following half-assed apology, didn’t you?

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So how about it, old chum: after ignoring all my pleas for help since I was first misdiagnosed to be delusional over 12 years ago, how about finally helping me, a poor old schizo, correct all of my corrupt shrinks by sending me an email I can share with the chief psychiatrist of Victoria?

Sincerely,

M.J. Hudson

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