The first in what will be a regular editorial series from a politicallly hyperactive - and politically incorrect - guy in a wheelchair. That is, if he remembers to get around to it.
So, I'm a late 20-something gimp living in the state that just elected the Schwenis, married to a gimpy Frenchie and living with a gimpy roommate who has an obsession with dolls. If that isn't the basis for a kick-ass horror flick, I'll eat Tucker Carlson's shoe.
I'm a former Slam Poet - former because where I now live hasn't even heard of Slam, let alone have an active community - so I thought I'd get my ranting out through these little diary entries. As I think of witty stuff, I'll post it, but because the state's collective IQ apparently dropped 30 points a Tuesday or so ago, I'm not feeling particularly witty. Here's an oldie from my Slam days, circa the Clinton Impeachment...
You know what I want? I want people to live their own lives. Are we so bored as a society that we have nothing better to do than to tell each other what to think and believe? Don't like abortion? Don't get one. Don't like the death penalty? Don't murder somebody. And who cares if the President of the United States is getting more action than the characters in Boogie Nights? A happy and satisfied President is a non-aggressive President, and if keeping the warm and fuzzy blanket of Democracy from unravelling at the seams means he takes more headshots in the Lincoln bedroom than were fired in the Ford Theatre, then I'm happy to know that even a simple white house intern can get down and take a blow for the home team. Just keep your 1984 Big Brother nose out of my life and stick to your own affairs.
You know what else I want? I want ignorance to go the way of the Dodo. Kill the fascists! Politically correct is just another term for Sensitivity Challenged. Who makes up these terms, anyways? First I was crippled, then handicapped, then disabled, then physically challenged... then, one day I awoke from some Kafka-esque mutation straight out of The Metamorphosis and discovered I was... Orthopedically Impaired! What the hell is that?! Stupid me, I prefer being called by my name, or 'hey you', or even 'asshole' works in a pinch. So to everyone who gets offended by words, I say 'wah'. I give you fifty tons of compressed 'wah'. Words aren't insulting or hurtful, it's the people who use them that are. Words are just a collection of letters, of consonants and vowels, lines drawn in the sand by early cave men who didn't care what color the other cave man's skin was, he just wanted to say, 'Bad cave! Bear in cave!'
You know what else I want? I want a fair deal, and honest buck, and liberty and justice for all.
I just want the simple things.