https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tel7oJcRLlc
It’s just two minutes of mental patient shit. I don’t want to get into it. Watch for yourself.
She talks about how she moved. She’s NEVER mentioned this on Youtube so if you only know her from Youtube, you have no fucking clue what she’s talking about.
If you follow her on Twitter, which I don’t but I occasionally check it out when I’m desperate for “content”, she sometimes would talk about moving but it’s all cryptic bullshit. Where is she moving to? Where is she currently living? Why is she moving?
I don’t need her home address but give the circumstances. Are you currently living with your mother and your whole family is moving? Are you moving out of your mother’s place? Are you moving to look for a job? Now, that would be an idea. Bobdunga in active employment.
But yeah, it’s always just fucked up craziness with Bobdunga.
I used to work in a mental health facility. I had nightmares for years after working there.
I’ve had jobs where I dreaded going to work. It’s a terrible feeling. Knowing that you have to go to this awful place that you hate. But this place was a whole other level. It was terrifying. You knew you were going to get attacked. You knew that crazy shit was going to go down. But you needed that twelve bucks an hour.
This one kid, who was so brain damaged that he couldn’t even talk, shit himself and then reached behind and smeared the excrement all over his face. And then we’re supposed to clean this up. Fortunately, somebody else did it. Some old guy from Poland or Germany or something.
Like 90% of the people working there were immigrants. Overwhelmingly from Africa. At the time, I had a strategy to take the worst jobs possible. No competition. So I’d do like night-shift jobs, overnight shifts, jobs that require working on weekends and Christmas and New Years and all that shit. Jobs that nobody wants. And then I can do whatever. There’s no stress. You want to fire me? Who else is going to do this shit job? So I never got fired but I’d always quit after three months and then find another shitty job.
There was another guy there who was so violent that he was virtually always strapped to a chair. His arms and legs were strapped down too. Big black guy. He was a perfectly amicable guy when he was strapped to his chair. You could have a normal conversation with him. But when you had to untie him, things got scary.
His “reward” for good behaviour was a pornographic magazine. But he was still strapped to the fucking chair. His arm was only free enough to be able to turn the pages. What’s the point? It just seems cruel. But whatever, he enjoyed it.
But yeah, all the headbutting and every imaginable form of self-abuse, I was spit on, I was attacked. And it’s always for no reason too. You think back, “What could I have done to prevent being attacked?” Nothing. There was nothing that I did to cause this. It was completely senseless. This is just what these people did. They couldn’t help themselves. It was like dealing with animals.
The days would just drag on. There was always something to do so you might think that time would go quickly, but whatever was happening, it was always something traumatic. So it would just be like slow motion. And you never finished anywhere near your scheduled end time. Having to stay an extra three hours wasn’t at all unusual.
I have insane stories for days.
On my last day, I had to start by working with this kid who smeared shit on his face. This wasn’t an isolated incident. He would always try to eat things. Whatever he could get hold of. When there was nothing in reach, he would pick lint off the carpet and eat it. You had to watch this guy every second. And you also needed gloves to work with him. Any time anyone worked with him, they had gloves. Rubber gloves. Because he had a habit of shitting himself and constantly putting his hands in his mouth and whatnot.
So I’m there and I ask the supervisor for gloves. No gloves. Okay, fine.
Two hours go by. I had to stop this guy from putting things in his mouth about twenty times. But every two hours we’re supposed to switch jobs. I get to work with someone else. So I say to the supervisor that it’s been two hours. He says I can’t switch yet.
By the way, the supervisor was an African immigrant.
Then like an hour later, some higher supervisor comes by and asks how I’m doing. This was a white American guy. He says that he knows that this guy is difficult to work with. So I say yeah, it’s difficult and I don’t have gloves and it’s been three hours and we were supposed to switch an hour ago but I’m still here. So he says that he’ll talk to the supervisor.
The supervisor comes over and he says, “We all have patients who we don’t want to work with but we have to do it.” That wasn’t the issue. The issue is that I don’t have gloves and I’ve been working with this guy for an hour longer than I was supposed to.
So I work another hour with this guy. Then the supervisor starts telling me where to stand. I have to stand over here, I have to stand over there, I have to stand over there. He did it about five times. I don’t know why. That went on for, I don’t know, another two hours. I just had to stand in various places.
He wasn’t doing this with anyone else. There were probably about eight people working in this area.
So then I’m working with someone else. And I hear the patient use profanity. I’m pretty sure that this guy is supposed to get punished for using profanity but, to be honest, I don’t give a fuck.
But then a co-worker comes by. He was a black American. I just mention the race to give a flavour of the people working there. And he says, “I think that he’s supposed to get punished for profanity. You should get his sheet.”
Everybody had a sheet with a list of behaviours that required punishment and what the punishment was. I will spare you the details on what this punishment was.
So I ask this co-worker if he can watch my guy while I go get the sheets. He says that he can.
I go in the next room and there’s the guy with all the sheets. He was either a black American or an African immigrant. Other people are asking him for their patient’s sheets too. I wait my turn. Then I ask him for the sheet and he starts looking for it.
Then the supervisor comes over. “What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be watching…” Right here is where that job ended. I said, “Okay. That’s it.” I got my stuff, and I headed for the door. And he looked confused. “I’m just doing my job. You have to…” No. I was out the door. Fuck you. Fuck this shit job. You deal with it.
I don’t know what that guy’s problem was, I never saw him before, but fuck him.
So Bobdunga. When I say that Bobdunga has mental health problems, I’m not saying it as an insult. I’m saying it as somebody who has experience in the field. She’s clearly off her fucking nut. Just watch this latest video for an example.
People have romantic notions about insanity but watch the videos. The videos where she’s clearly off her medication aren’t creative masterpieces. They’re uncomfortable pieces of shit. When she’s on her medication, when she’s in a proper frame of mind, she’s able to create videos which are good. So I don’t know what the fucking problem is. She’s been doing this crazy shit for months now. Doesn’t Canada have free medication? Let me look this up, actually…
No. Tough to find exact prices but a quick Google search suggests that the average Canadian pays $1000/year on prescription medication.
That’s probably way less than in the US but still not good. For comparison purposes, it’s like £100 in England. Probably the same in Wales. All you can eat. Buffet style. As many prescriptions as you can handle, and it will all cost just £100/year in total. That’s like $120 American.
Tough to beat. But Scotland did it. ZERO per year.
Maybe Bobdunga can’t afford the medication then. That’s terrible. She could always try getting a job but it’s tough to find a job when you’re mentally ill. But if she had a job, she’d be able to afford the medication and then she wouldn’t be so whacked out of her gourd. It’s a tough situation.