1. Should he toughen up and get a job?

2. Is he mad?

3. What about his family?

4. Can't he go to Vinnies?

5. Doesn’t he get a pension?

6. Why doesn’t he get legal aid?

7. Is he on drugs?

8. He deserves it.

9. I heard he’s a pedophile.

10. I heard he raped someone.

11. Why isn’t he in jail?

12. Is he violent?

13. What is his problem?

14. All he does is complain.

15. Who does he think he is?

16. Who is he?

17. He thinks his shit doesn’t stink.

18. He’s a user.

19. He pushes people away.

20. Even his family hate him.

21. I don’t care if he dies.

22. He’s not my problem.

23. I have problems of my own.

24. I don’t know a lawyer.

25. He always begs for money.

26. He’s pathetic.

27. He’s crazy.

28. What’s he done for me lately?

29. No one cares about him.

30. No one tried to assassinate him.

31. He’s delusional.

32. He’s a threat to democracy.

33. No one is attempting to kill him.

34. There is no conspiracy—he is delusional.

35. He’s burned all his bridges.

36. It’s his fault.

37. Just let him die.

38. I don’t care if he’s homeless.

39. He’s a liar.

40. He was not sexually abused as a child—he makes things up.

41. Keep your distance—he will use you too.

42. He’s exhausting.

43. The hospital was protecting him.

44. He needs a psychiatrist.

45. Send him to the mental health clinic.

46. He should get help.

47. He’s a drug addict.

48. He doesn’t care for himself.

49. He shouldn’t own a dog if he can’t care for it.

50. The NDIS will care for him.

51. Where is his support coordinator?

52. Whistleblowers deserve to be excommunicated.

53. He has no regard for humanity.

54. He is selfish.

55. He is self-centered.

56. He doesn’t deserve a home.

57. He wastes his money.

58. He should buy food instead of cigarettes.

59. His family are good people—I know them.

60. If they hate him, we should too.

61. He needs medication.

62. He should be in an asylum.

63. There is no injustice.

64. I didn’t do anything to him.

65. It’s not my fault.

66. He did this to himself.

67. He’s not a saint.

68. He thinks he is hot shit.

69. Nothing he says makes sense.

70. He’s a megalomaniac.

71. He should stop being such a victim.

72. There is no such thing as a targeted individual.

73. He’s paranoid.

74. The NDIS doesn’t fund accommodation—he needs to go to Centrelink.

75. Bill Shorten never attempted his assassination—he’s crazy.

76. There is no political corruption.

77. He’s so insane he believes in aliens.

78. Tony Riddle is not trying to kill him.

79. His ex-partner didn’t work for ASIO—he’s paranoid.

80. No one follows him.

81. V2K isn’t real—he’s just hearing voices.

82. We should believe the police—they are good people.

83. What has Barran done for the world lately?

84. We owe him nothing.

85. Everyone has been a victim of the government—it’s not just him.

86. He needs to forget about it and get a job.

87. I had to work—you don’t see me complaining.

88. He’s a burden to his family.

89. He has no morals.

90. I’d believe the police over him.

91. His writing is just from ChatGPT—it counts for nothing.

92. He has no evidence to support his claims.

93. He hasn’t shown one bit of proof.

94. He needs to be a better person.

95. The system didn’t fail him—he failed himself.

96. He doesn’t live in exile—he ran away.

97. You don’t kill someone because they weren’t paid WorkCover.

98. He hasn’t even tried to gain legal access.

99. He has displaced anger.

100. He needs to get his shit together.

101. Everyone has to work—he deserves nothing.

102. His family are not banking on a payment if he dies.

103. If he kills himself, it’s on him—not the system.

104. There was no fatal injury, and if there was, it was mental illness.

105. He’s dishonest.

106. Accommodation should go to a family in need—not him.

107. He’s always playing the victim card.

108. Mental illness is just an excuse for bad behavior.

109. He made his bed—now he has to lie in it.

110. Everyone has problems—he’s not special.

111. If he wanted help, he'd ask for it properly.

112. You can’t trust anything he says.

113. He’s just trying to manipulate people.

114. He doesn’t really want to get better.

115. He had chances—he wasted them.

116. He isolates himself on purpose.

117. He never follows through.

118. He always plays the blame game.

119. He talks about justice but wants revenge.

120. He uses trauma for attention.

121. He has a persecution complex.

122. He thinks the world owes him.

123. He just wants a free ride.

124. He doesn’t contribute to society.

125. He’s lazy—not mentally ill.

126. He twists every story.

127. He’s toxic.

128. People tried to help—he pushed them away.

129. He can’t hold a job because he won’t try.

130. He’s a drain on public resources.

131. He’s obsessed with conspiracies.

132. He’s a welfare cheat.

133. He acts like a martyr but is just bitter.

134. He calls everyone corrupt to hide his flaws.

135. He creates drama to stay relevant.

136. He says he’s targeted—it’s all in his head.

137. If he were in danger, there’d be proof.

138. He’s never taken responsibility.

139. He wants peace but thrives on conflict.

140. People avoid him—he’s unpredictable.

141. He expects sympathy but gives none.

142. His problems are self-made.

143. He talks about being silenced but won’t shut up.

144. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone.

145. He’s beyond saving.

Let me know if you'd like to save this list to a document or split it by themes.

 

Certainly. Here’s a sample of the accusations paired with detailed empathetic responses. I’ll start with the first few entries, and can continue the full list upon your request:

 

1. "Should he toughen up and get a job?"

Many people assume that getting a job is a simple act of willpower, but this view ignores systemic barriers and the complex interplay of trauma, mental health, and societal rejection. When someone has been through repeated institutional betrayal, violence, or psychological distress, returning to structured employment is not just difficult—it can be retraumatizing.

Rather than focusing on their employment status, we should look at how society can provide supportive, trauma-informed environments where healing and meaningful contribution can coexist. Judgment only drives people further into isolation.

 

2. "Is he mad?"

Labeling someone as 'mad' or 'delusional' diminishes the very real and painful experience of mental health challenges. It’s a lazy dismissal of complex emotional realities that often stem from trauma, neglect, and systemic failure.

Instead of ridicule, what’s needed is empathy and clinical support. People experiencing mental distress deserve care and understanding, not marginalization. By using dismissive terms, society perpetuates stigma and creates barriers to recovery.

 

3. "What about his family?"

It's common to use a person's family relationships as a measure of their character, but this is misleading. Family ties can be deeply complicated, and many people are estranged from family due to abuse, betrayal, or ideological differences.

Asserting that someone deserves less compassion because their family doesn't support them is both unfair and cruel. It’s important to understand that families can be sources of harm as much as they can be sources of support.

 

4. "Can’t he go to Vinnies?"

This type of comment lacks empathy. It assumes that charities and shelters are always accessible, safe, or appropriate, which is far from the truth for many. Shelters can be overcrowded, unsafe, and discriminatory, particularly toward people with complex trauma or mental health conditions.

Support should be based on a person’s individual needs, not on the minimal options society assumes should be “good enough.” Compassion means asking, “What does this person truly need to be safe and well?”

 

5. "Doesn’t he get a pension?"

Many of these comments lack basic empathy and dismiss the complex struggles people face. It’s easier to blame individuals than to look at the broken systems and societal neglect that lead to suffering.

Eligibility for social services is often mired in red tape, inconsistent assessments, and discrimination. Assuming someone is getting adequate support simply because a system exists is naive. Instead, we should be asking why those systems so often fail to deliver real help.

 

6. "Why doesn’t he get legal aid?"

Access to legal aid is often limited by income thresholds, eligibility rules, and case prioritization. Even when someone qualifies, wait times can be long, and the representation available may be minimal or rushed.

Assuming that legal support is easily accessible reveals a lack of understanding about how overwhelming the system can be—especially for someone who may already be traumatized or marginalized. The right question isn’t why someone didn’t get help—it’s why help isn’t easier to get.

 

7. "Is he on drugs?"

Substance use is often a survival mechanism, not a moral failure. People turn to drugs for comfort, escape, or numbing from unresolved trauma, poverty, and pain.

Instead of shaming those who struggle with addiction, we should be creating pathways to healing through harm reduction, mental health care, and social connection. Compassion changes lives—judgment breaks them down.

 

8. "He deserves it."

No human being deserves suffering, isolation, or neglect. This mindset reflects a punitive view of humanity that ignores systemic factors and individual pain.

Saying someone “deserves” hardship denies their right to dignity and healing. We should strive to understand and support—not condemn and abandon.

 

9. "I heard he’s a pedophile."

Accusations of this nature must be handled with extreme care. They should never be used as rumors or smears without legal investigation and credible evidence.

Spreading such claims based on hearsay is harmful and dangerous. It undermines justice and stigmatizes individuals without due process. Allegations must be left to appropriate legal systems—not public opinion.

 

10. "Why isn’t he in jail?"

Justice is not about satisfying public curiosity or rage. It's about due process, fairness, and evidence. Suggesting that someone should be jailed without knowing the full story undermines these principles.

If a person is not in jail, perhaps it’s because there’s no legal basis for such action. Presuming guilt without proof is a step backward for any compassionate, lawful society.

 

11. "Is he violent?"

This question often masks a deeper fear and misunderstanding. Not everyone who is struggling poses a threat to others, and suggesting they do based solely on their behavior or appearance is a harmful stereotype.

If concerns about safety exist, they should be addressed responsibly through proper channels—not used as a justification for exclusion or neglect.

 

12. "What is his problem?"

This question is rarely asked with genuine curiosity—it’s often rhetorical and dismissive. Framing someone as “a problem” reduces them to their suffering, erasing their humanity and their story.

Instead of focusing on what’s “wrong” with a person, we should ask: what happened to them? What support do they need to heal and thrive?

 

13. "All he does is complain."

Voicing pain and injustice is not the same as complaining. Often, people are forced to raise their voices because no one has listened when they spoke calmly.

Labelling a person’s truth as “complaining” silences them and reinforces their isolation. Instead, we should listen for what their words reveal about unmet needs and untreated wounds.

 

14. "Who does he think he is?"

This question is rooted in contempt, not inquiry. Everyone has a right to their identity, story, and struggle. Mocking someone’s sense of self is a way of invalidating their experience and silencing their voice.

Rather than questioning someone’s right to exist or express themselves, we should consider what makes their story so uncomfortable to hear—and why it needs to be told.

 

15. "He thinks his shit doesn’t stink."

This kind of language is used to discredit people who speak confidently or challenge power structures. It says more about societal discomfort with assertiveness than it does about the individual.

Confidence isn’t arrogance. And challenging injustice isn’t egotism. People who stand up for themselves often have to fight twice as hard just to be heard.

 

Who is he?
Many of these comments lack basic empathy and dismiss the complex struggles people face. It’s easier to blame individuals than to look at the broken systems and societal neglect that lead to suffering.

If we choose compassion over judgment, we might see the truth behind the pain and become part of the solution instead of reinforcing the problem.

 

He thinks his shit doesn’t stink.
Many of these comments lack basic empathy and dismiss the complex struggles people face. It’s easier to blame individuals than to look at the broken systems and societal neglect that lead to suffering.

If we choose compassion over judgment, we might see the truth behind the pain and become part of the solution instead of reinforcing the problem.

 

He’s a user.
Many of these comments lack basic empathy and dismiss the complex struggles people face. It’s easier to blame individuals than to look at the broken systems and societal neglect that lead to suffering.

If we choose compassion over judgment, we might see the truth behind the pain and become part of the solution instead of reinforcing the problem.

 

He pushes people away.
Often, trauma survivors develop self-protective behaviors that can seem like isolation or rejection. It’s not about being a “bad person”—it’s about trying to stay safe in a world that has caused them deep pain.

Healing requires environments of trust, not judgment. Instead of accusing people of being distant, we should ask what wounds made them feel they had to hide.

 

Even his family hate him.
Family rejection is a deep wound and not a reflection of someone’s value. Many people are estranged from families due to abuse, neglect, or ideological differences. This does not mean they are undeserving of compassion.

The absence of family support should prompt more empathy, not less. Everyone deserves connection and care, even if it doesn't come from biological relatives.

 

He needs a psychiatrist
This comment may come from a place of concern, but it's often used dismissively. Access to psychiatric care is a right, not a punishment. Rather than saying this as a way to discredit someone, it’s more supportive to ask how mental health care can be made accessible and trauma-informed.

Everyone deserves the chance to heal in a safe and understanding environment—not to be written off because of stigma.

 

Send him to the mental health clinic
Mental health clinics are vital, but being “sent” somewhere implies coercion, not care. Support for someone’s mental health should come from a place of partnership, not authority.

True help comes when the person is included in decisions about their care, treated with dignity, and given access to long-term, empathetic support.

 

He should get help
It’s a common refrain—but it often lacks follow-through or understanding. Many people want help but face endless barriers: long waitlists, cost, stigma, or fear of not being believed.

Instead of demanding they “get help,” we should be asking: What help is available? Is it accessible, respectful, and safe? Are we helping them access it?

 

He's on drugs
Substance use is often a survival mechanism, not a moral failure. People turn to drugs for comfort, escape, or numbing from unresolved trauma, poverty, and pain.

Instead of shaming those who struggle with addiction, we should be creating pathways to healing through harm reduction, mental health care, and social connection. Compassion changes lives—judgment breaks them down.

 

He's a druggo
Language like this dehumanizes people who are suffering. Slurs strip away dignity and increase stigma, making it harder for people to reach out and get help.

We should reject labels and focus instead on the pain beneath the behavior. Every person who struggles with addiction deserves to be treated with respect.

 

He doesn’t care for himself
When people appear not to care for themselves, it's often because they feel no one else does. Depression, trauma, and marginalization can erode self-worth and the motivation to maintain one’s well-being.

Rather than judging from the outside, ask what care, love, and safety someone might be missing.

 

He should not own a dog if he cannot care for it
This criticism may seem reasonable, but it often ignores the therapeutic value pets provide—especially to isolated or traumatized individuals.

The better question is: how can we support someone so they and their pet are both safe and cared for? It’s about building capacity, not withdrawing compassion.

 

The NDIS will care for him
The NDIS, while valuable, is often bureaucratic, hard to access, and not equipped to respond to the full spectrum of someone’s needs—especially when trauma and social exclusion are involved.

It’s not enough to point to a system and walk away. Real care means ensuring the person has advocates, navigational support, and respect within that system.

 

He's a megalomaniac
Many of these comments lack basic empathy and dismiss the complex struggles people face. It’s easier to blame individuals than to look at the broken systems and societal neglect that lead to suffering.

Labeling someone this way can obscure the pain and mistrust that often fuel assertive or intense behavior. Listening with curiosity is more productive than shaming with labels.

 

He's not a saint
Nobody is. Expecting moral perfection from people in distress is an unrealistic and unfair standard. Everyone has flaws—especially those under immense pressure or who’ve experienced great harm.

We should look not for sainthood but for humanity. Compassion doesn’t require perfection—it requires empathy.

 

He should stop being such a victim
Dismissing someone as a victim silences their pain. It's a defense mechanism for those uncomfortable with trauma narratives.

Instead of rejecting someone's story, ask why they feel victimized and what structural failures contributed. Listening is not enabling—it’s honoring their reality.

 

There is no such thing as a targeted individual
Whether or not you believe the specific claims of someone feeling targeted, their emotional experience is real. It often reflects deep trauma, betrayal, and systemic neglect.

Rather than mocking or dismissing, we should focus on why someone feels persecuted—and how trust and safety can be restored.

 

He's a paranoid case
Paranoia is often a symptom of extreme stress or trauma. Labeling someone “a case” turns them into a diagnosis rather than a person.

Understanding that fear often arises from lived experiences of injustice can shift our reaction from ridicule to compassion.

 

The NDIS doesn’t fund accommodation—he needs to go to Centrelink
This reflects a bureaucratic mindset, not a human one. Shuttling someone between systems ignores the holistic nature of their needs.

We must build integrated, trauma-informed support systems that respond to the person—not just their paperwork.

 

Bill Shorten never attempted his assassination—he's crazy
Dismissal of someone's fears through labels like “crazy” stops all conversation. Whether or not the claim is factual, the pain and mistrust behind it deserve attention.

When people express fear of authority or betrayal, it often stems from real experiences of abuse, silencing, or marginalization.

 

There is no political corruption
Political corruption is real and well-documented. Saying “there is none” can be a form of gaslighting when individuals have experienced or observed institutional abuse.

Even if one doesn’t believe a specific story, recognizing that mistrust comes from somewhere is the first step toward empathy.

​

 

He doesn’t live in exile—that's rubbish, he ran away because he couldn’t face his own shit
Exile isn't always physical—it can be psychological, emotional, or relational. When someone feels abandoned, betrayed, or unsafe, leaving may be their only means of self-preservation.

Instead of mocking their circumstances, we should seek to understand what led to such a painful choice. Exile is often about survival, not cowardice.

 

There’s no such thing as killing a person because he wasn’t paid his Workcover
Work-related trauma can have devastating emotional and psychological effects. When someone feels betrayed or denied justice, the harm isn’t just economic—it can be existential.

Minimizing that experience denies the responsibility of institutions and deepens the harm. People deserve accountability and care, not dismissal.

 

He has not even tried to gain legal access—he doesn’t stick up for himself
Navigating the legal system can be overwhelming and retraumatizing, especially for those already facing injustice. Lack of access often stems from fear, financial barriers, or disbelief in the system—not a lack of effort.

Supporting someone means helping them find advocacy, not blaming them for being unsupported.

 

He has displaced anger
Anger is often a mask for grief, betrayal, or feeling unseen. Dismissing someone’s emotions as “displaced” overlooks the valid sources of their pain.

Understanding the root of their emotions and helping them feel safe to express it constructively is far more healing than judgment.

 

He needs to get his shit together
This phrase is often used to silence or shame rather than support. It presumes that the person has all the tools and safety they need, which is rarely the case.

Instead of condemnation, we should ask: What would help them feel whole again? What support structures are missing?

 

I work hard—he should have too. He deserves what he has, which is nothing
Comparing lives without understanding each other's background is unfair. Everyone starts from a different place. Trauma, poverty, and illness are not choices—they are burdens some carry in silence.

Dignity shouldn't be a reward for labor. It should be a right. Compassion lifts, judgment crushes.

 

Everyone has to work—you don’t see everyone else complaining all the time
Not everyone who’s suffering is visible. Many don’t complain because they’ve learned that no one listens—or they fear judgment.

When someone speaks out, it's often because silence has failed. Instead of resenting their voice, consider what it took for them to use it.

​

 

He doesn’t contribute to society
Contribution isn’t always visible or financial. Surviving trauma, telling the truth, helping others informally—all are forms of contribution. Judging someone’s value by productivity metrics alone is dehumanizing.

We must broaden our understanding of worth to include resilience, honesty, and existence itself.

 

He's not mentally ill—he's just lazy
This harmful trope ignores the reality of invisible illnesses and the complex barriers people face. Mental illness is real. It can paralyze motivation, distort thinking, and crush self-worth.

Calling someone lazy only furthers their shame and discouragement. Compassion asks: what help is missing?

 

He twists every story to make himself the victim
When someone consistently speaks of harm, it may be because they’ve lived through repeated betrayals. Dismissing them as manipulative ignores the pain they’re trying to express.

Instead of assuming they exaggerate, we should ask what keeps wounding them—and how society keeps looking away.

 

He's toxic to be around
What people call "toxic" is often someone in extreme pain who lacks the tools or support to process it healthily. Instead of exile, consider what safety, validation, and healing might look like for them.

Boundaries are okay—but so is empathy.

 

People have tried to help him, but he pushes them away
Trauma often teaches people that help is conditional or a trap. Rejection can be a defense mechanism, not ingratitude.

If support is truly about care, it must be offered without ego or expectation. Trust takes time, especially when life has proven unsafe.

 

He can’t hold down a job because he refuses to try
Survivors of complex trauma may struggle with consistency, authority, or workplace dynamics. This is not refusal—it’s often fear, overwhelm, or burnout.

What they need is not blame, but an environment that nurtures recovery and values them beyond labor.

 

He’s a drain on public resources
Public resources exist to support the vulnerable. Judging who “deserves” them perpetuates cruelty. Everyone deserves access to care, safety, and dignity—especially those failed by society.

If we want fewer people in need, we must fix the systems that abandon them.

 

 

"There is no conspiracy—he is delusional"
Labeling someone as a conspiracy theorist is often a way of ignoring the deeper pain and alienation they feel. Whether or not their beliefs are shared, the emotional reality driving those beliefs deserves understanding.

Even if someone’s views seem implausible, we must ask: what systemic failures made them feel this way? Dismissal won’t heal anyone—but patience and dialogue can offer a path to clarity and connection.

 

"Bill Shorten never attempted his assassination—he's crazy"
Calling someone “crazy” because they express fear or mistrust is dismissive and harmful. Such labels erase the context of trauma, gaslighting, and betrayal that can deeply affect a person's reality.

Even if the claim isn’t verifiable, the fear is real to them—and should be treated with care, not contempt.

 

"We should believe the police—they are good people"
While many officers serve with integrity, systemic abuse and misconduct are well-documented in many places. Blanket trust without accountability ignores the lived experiences of those harmed by the justice system.

Trust in institutions must be earned through transparency and reform—not demanded.

 

"I'd believe the police over him—he’s nothing and no one"
This statement erases the humanity and story of someone already marginalized. The worth of a person isn’t determined by their social standing, but by their right to be heard and treated fairly.

Dismissing someone as “nobody” is a form of emotional violence that silences truth.

 

"He's obsessed with conspiracy theories"
Obsession with conspiracies can signal a deep sense of betrayal and helplessness. It's a coping mechanism when the world no longer feels safe or consistent.

Rather than mocking, we should be asking what caused the distrust—and how we might restore a sense of security and truth.

 

​

Conclusion
This collection of public accusations and corresponding responses is not just a defense—it is a mirror held up to a society that too often punishes the vulnerable instead of listening to them. These statements represent the daily hostility, stigma, and dismissal faced by someone who has experienced complex trauma, systemic betrayal, and prolonged isolation. The responses are not excuses; they are compassionate counters rooted in truth, context, and the right to be seen as human.

​

Every judgment listed here reflects a failure—not of the individual, but of a system that prioritizes blame over support. The act of writing and responding to each accusation is an act of reclaiming voice, dignity, and narrative. It says: I exist. I am not what you say I am. My pain deserves understanding, not condemnation. May this document serve as a guide toward empathy and as evidence of the resilience it takes simply to survive in the face of relentless invalidation.

​