Mocking Or Ignoring an Artists Mental Health for Amusement
My name is Kristian Weston. I compose, produce, design sound, program DSP, and play guitar and bass. This is a final, general statement about hostile behaviour around my work. No individuals will be named.
A minority within the audience has normalised harassment for decades. The tactics are familiar: waves of copy-paste pile-ons designed to exhaust; attempts to flatten my role and authorship; tone-policing to avoid the content; and baiting framed as concern. It moves between platforms and into email. It presumes access to my time.
Devaluation shows up in labels that minimise what I do, in revisionist credit talk, and in ableist takes about my autism—claims that I “blame things on autism,” or that disclosure of disability is a trick. It’s used to erase work and to excuse theft.
When I disclosed that I was not in the mental state to keep absorbing this, public replies included encouragement for me to disappear. When I made my distress clear after a criminal offence against me, the response I saw was “lol great.” That is incitement to suicide.
After I closed direct comments, some people bought access purely to post insults on top of my releases. That is pay-to-taunt, not fandom.
I’m not running point-by-point rebuttals anymore. Attention rewards the tactic and drains time from my work. Evidence is archived off-platform for legal and safety reasons.
Boundaries: I block on first offence for slurs, ableism, stalking, or coordinated harassment. I don’t quote-amplify abuse. Comments may be pre-moderated where tools allow. DMs from unknown accounts about old disputes are closed. I reserve the right to refuse access to my work to anyone who weaponises it against me.
For the majority who show up in good faith: thank you. Engage with the music. Don’t fight trolls on my behalf—report, mute, move on.
Closing: this is not only about credits. It is about my life, my name, and my sound. If you’re here for the work, welcome. If you’re here for cruelty dressed as concern, you are not my audience.My name is Kristian Weston. I compose, produce, design sound, program DSP, and play guitar and bass. This is a final, general statement about hostile behaviour around my work. No individuals will be named.
A minority within the audience has normalised harassment for decades. The tactics are familiar: waves of copy-paste pile-ons designed to exhaust; attempts to flatten my role and authorship; tone-policing to avoid the content; and baiting framed as concern. It moves between platforms and into email. It presumes access to my time.
Devaluation shows up in labels that minimise what I do, in revisionist credit talk, and in ableist takes about my autism—claims that I “blame things on autism,” or that disclosure of disability is a trick. It’s used to erase work and to excuse theft.
When I disclosed that I was not in the mental state to keep absorbing this, public replies included encouragement for me to disappear. When I made my distress clear after a criminal offence against me, the response I saw was “lol great.” That is incitement to suicide.
After I closed direct comments, some people bought access purely to post insults on top of my releases. That is pay-to-taunt, not fandom.
I’m not running point-by-point rebuttals anymore. Attention rewards the tactic and drains time from my work. Evidence is archived off-platform for legal and safety reasons.
Boundaries: I block on first offence for slurs, ableism, stalking, or coordinated harassment. I don’t quote-amplify abuse. Comments may be pre-moderated where tools allow. DMs from unknown accounts about old disputes are closed. I reserve the right to refuse access to my work to anyone who weaponises it against me.
For the majority who show up in good faith: thank you. Engage with the music. Don’t fight trolls on my behalf—report, mute, move on.
Closing: this is not only about credits. It is about my life, my name, and my sound. If you’re here for the work, welcome. If you’re here for cruelty dressed as concern, you are not my audience.
If you’re checking in with me while making smug, no pun intended statements, your intention is not genuine.
The sheer level of narcissism it takes to think that anyone gives a shit about whether or not you meant to write your pun is mind boggling. If narcissism were measured in units of mass, the skulls of people who pointed out puns would crush in on themselves in a giant black hole of stupidity.
Dear Reader,Please direct your attention towards my pun. Admittedly I do think it’s clever, but I think that you think so highly of me, that I want you to know that I would never resort to using such a commonplace literary device in my prose. Therefore, I would like to formally renounce my attempt at humor and assure you that I am above making puns as a writer, as a pupil of language, and as citizen of Earth.
Sincerest apologies,
D. Baggerson
On a positive note I have met some lovely autistic people during The Rob escapades so far and I am grateful for that.
