If you don’ like the crap I write, you can blame it on socialism
If it wasn’t for socialism, I wouldn’t be sitting at this computer right now. In order for me to get out of bed and hosed down and fed and all the other stuff that’s a prerequisite for rolling up to the computer, I employ a group of humans who rotate in and out every day to assist me. And their wages are paid by our tax dollars via a state program. It’s that evil bloody goddam job-killing socialism at its finest.
It’s a damn good thing too because I sure as hell can’t afford to pay their wages. You know what sucks most about being crippled? IT’S FUCKING EXPENSIVE!!!! This wheelchair I’m sitting in costs $26,000. The van I drive around in, purchased new, cost about $50,000. That’s why every cripple I’ve ever met is also suffering from a bad case of post-traumatic sticker shock disorder. So without lots of socialism to help us pay for all the shit we need to stay alive and keep moving, 99.99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 percent of cripples would be screwed.
If you think employing a pit crew just to get in and out of bed sounds like a pain in the ass, just wait. Pretty soon it’s going to take every last one of you out there to get me in and out of bed.
Because governors all over the country, especially those darling republican ones, are going nuts cutting programs like this. Cripples in states like Texas and Wisconsin and Kansas are fighting like hell to stop the funds that pay their assistants from being cut off. Governors are instead giving tax breaks to the mega-rich so that they will create more jobs. We all know this is true. When the mega-rich get to keep more of their money they throw bigger and better parties, which creates more jobs for cocaine dealers and prostitutes.
So I need to think ahead because at the rate things are going, stinkin’ socialist programs like these will all be starved to death come 2014 or so. America will have returned to the blissful and pristine 1950s, when the only option cripples had was to beg for charity. Ah yes, charity--- the gift nobody wants.
So get ready, because it will take all of your help for me to pull off my annual Get Smart Ass Cripple’s Crippled Ass Out of Bed 5k Run. All proceeds will go directly to me, so I can pay people to get my crippled ass out of bed.
I’ll need a whole bunch of you to help with publicity. There will be tons of logistical tasks too. For instance, somebody will have to hustle up a shitload of donated Gatorade. In-kind donations, such as a used starter pistol, will also be needed. And of course all of you will have to run and pledge.
If all goes well, I might raise just enough to where I won't have to worry about how I’m going to get out of bed in the coming year. And from there I’ll just pray that no unplanned budget-busting emergencies intrude upon my life, so I won’t have to slap together another quick fundraiser like the Get Smart Ass Cripple’s Ruptured Appendix Removed Before it Bursts 50-yard Dash.
For my 5k run, I'll also need all of you to sign up corporate sponsors. Hey there’s another idea. Maybe I’ll beg corporations to give me money so I can get out of bed and then every day for the rest of my life I’ll wear a jumpsuit like those NASCAR guys with their corporate logos plastered all over it. Or how about a Get Smart Ass Cripple’s Crippled Ass Out of Bed Celebrity Golf Tournament?
I feel much better about the future now, knowing I can count on all of your kind charity.
