Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Ask Smart Ass Cripple Volume IV

 The best of the inbox:

Dear SAC,

What was your proudest moment as a cripple?



Dear W,

My proudest moment as a cripple happened when I was in the office of the dentist who removed all four of my wisdom teeth at once.
The dentist leaned down to lift the armrest of his cushy torture chair so I could park my motorized wheelchair smack up against it and he could help me transfer over.  But as I backed my chair into place I heard from behind me a man bellow in pain.
“Ow!! SONUVABIIIIIIITCH!” And then the dentist darted out from behind me, flapping and squeezing his hand and doubling over like he’d smashed his fingers with a hammer.

“Sonuvabitch that hurt!”

It seemed that when I backed in I accidentally mashed his fingers between my tire and his torture chair.  Watching him hop around in pain, I realized I was living the fantasy of millions by putting the hurt on the dentist. I felt especially gratified when, as I later left his office,  there was no one in the waiting room, not even the receptionist.   I pictured  a pack of patients hearing “Sonuvabitch that hurt”coming from the torture room and shooting out of there like the place was on fire, even the receptionist.

Never have I felt more powerful!

Dear Smart Ass,

There's something I'm dying to know. How do blind people keep from brushing their teeth with Preparation H? How do they tell one tube from the next? You're the closest thing I know to a blind person so I thought I'd ask you.

Please help.


Man with Sight

Dear Man with Sight,

Wow, it’s like you can read my mind! I’ve been dying to know the answer to that exact question since I was a wee tot, but always was afraid to ask.

When I ponder this question my mind runs wild with speculation:  Maybe guide dogs are trained to help along these lines—one bark for toothpaste, two barks for Preparation H, three barks for rubber cement. I mean, why not? As dogs go, guide dogs are fucking geniuses.

By stepping forward and asking this question, you gave me the courage to finally do the same, since if blind people call me an insensitive ignoramus I can blame it on you. I sent your question to several blind people. I received this response from Mr. Lynn Manning of Los Angeles, California, which I assume is the official reply on behalf of all blind people everywhere.

The esteemed Mr. Manning writes: “If you can't smell the difference between Prep H and toothpaste, you've got more than a problem with your eyes.”
               -- Blind Man with Nose

Dear Smart Ass Cripple,

I’m delighted to see that you are now the official site of bitter cripples. At last I feel as if I’ve found a home!

But the problem is, whereas I feel like a bitter cripple and enjoy the camaraderie of bitter cripples, I am not now nor have I ever been crippled.

Can I call myself a bitter cripple? Please say yes!

With admiration,

Bitter Cripple Wannabe

Dear Wannabe,

The term bitter cripple does not refer to a physical condition. It is, rather, an advanced state of consciousness. It is an exquisitely indefinable stage of enlightenment that is attained by freeing one’s self from the tyranny of bull shit.

A bitter cripple, essentially, is a cripple who is pissed off about how cripples are treated. There is no single path to becoming a bitter cripple. I view achieving enlightenment (religious or otherwise) in the same way I view achieving orgasm. Who cares how you get there, just so you get there.

However, to truly understand what it means to be a bitter cripple in all its many dimensions, one must actually be crippled. But the good news is the enlightened uncrippled like you can become honorary bitter cripples. All you have to do is convince an actual bitter cripple to bestow that title upon you.

I must warn you though that even being an honorary bitter cripple is a lot of work. Bitter cripples and our allies are on the frontlines of the ongoing War on Bull Shit. The allure of bull shit is relentless. It’s always trying to win you back, always trying to convince you that you shouldn’t be so upset so much. Bull shit wears many disguises. You must be vigilant.

It's much easier to just give up and be a sweet cripple or, even worse, a bittersweet cripple. Being a bitter cripple is a lifelong commitment. It can really wear you down. I hope in my lifetime the forces of bull shit will be vanquished to the point where I can ease up a little and retire to the status of bitter cripple emeritus.