THE TOILET TESTAMENT OF ROBERT F. KENNEDY JR

When a Man With a Worm in His Skull Declares War on Autistic Children, Believe Him.

“These are kids who will never pay taxes. They'll never hold a job. They'll never play baseball. They'll never write a poem. They'll never go out on a date. Many of them will never use a toilet unassisted.”

— Robert F. Kennedy Jr., April 16, 2025

Let’s stop pretending he was misunderstood. He said what he meant. He meant what he said. And what he said was a declaration of war on autistic people — broadcast from a government podium, camouflaged as public health, and greeted with cheers from the wellness death cult he’s built around himself.

This is not about public safety. This is not about children’s well-being. This is about building a narrative that casts neurodivergent people as subhuman burdens — incapable of love, incapable of work, incapable of art, and apparently, incapable of taking a shit without help.

Forget policy nuance. This is political eugenics in a Whole Foods apron. A Secretary of Health who talks about autistic people like they’re corpses waiting to be buried — not living, breathing human beings navigating a world designed to fail them.

And for what? So he can prop up his war on “toxins”? So he can sell the fantasy that there’s a single, sinister cause to a complex neurodevelopmental condition and that he's the messianic figure who will expose it? So he can divert resources from support, research, and inclusion into his long-running obsession with discredited junk science and purity culture?

RFK Jr. isn’t trying to understand autism. He’s trying to eradicate it. Not with compassion — but with bureaucracy and fear. He’s rebranding the entire neurodivergent population as broken and unwanted, framing their existence as evidence of a nation gone wrong.

And now he’s giving himself a deadline. September 2025. By then, he promises, he’ll uncover the root cause of autism — as if that’s something he can shake out of a kale leaf or dredge up from a bottle of organic mouthwash. He’s appointed David Geier, a man stripped of his medical license for unethical autism treatments, to help lead the charge. That’s not a public health team. That’s a fucking inquisition.

What Kennedy is building isn’t reform. It’s a purge. A soft, smiling, focus-grouped purge. Not through sterilization or institutional walls — though give him time — but through policy, stigma, and calculated cruelty.

Dr. Oz stands next to him like a coked-up Lazarus, resurrected from daytime disgrace and now offering butter and platitudes while Kennedy redraws the line between worthy and unworthy life.

This isn’t just ableism. It’s a worldview. It’s the belief that people who require support are less than. That the disabled are a burden. That anything outside Kennedy’s fantasy of high-functioning Americana must be prevented, solved, or scrubbed out of the gene pool.

We’re not going to correct him. We’re not going to walk him through CDC data or introduce him to the millions of autistic people who pay taxes, write poetry, hold jobs, fall in love, and piss just fine on their own. He knows. He doesn't care.

Because this isn’t ignorance. It’s malice in a health department badge.

He’s not confused. He’s not curious. He’s not well-meaning.

He is an enemy. Of the disabled. Of science. Of truth.

And like the worm that once died inside his skull, he’s rotting everything he touches from the inside out.

---

This is Closer to the Edge. Subscribe if you're ready to burn the worm out before it takes the whole tree with it.