Friday, September 30, 2016

Sugar Daddy Quarterback

There was this war veteran who became crippled and so he needed this fancy new motorized wheelchair. But the wheelchair was super expensive so one of the war vet’s buddies decided to help. He made a life-size cardboard cutout of the crippled war vet. He took the cutout to a pro football training camp and he caught the attention of the star quarterback and the star quarterback bought the fancy new motorized wheelchair for the crippled war vet.

I saw this story on a daytime television show. Everybody agreed that this story was truly inspiring. It sure inspired me. It inspired me to look for a sugar daddy quarterback of my own. Because things are getting tight. States are cutting back on the shit they’ll pay for to help support cripples. You have to get creative to get your needs met. I sure would rest easier knowing I had a sugar daddy quarterback ready and willing and proud to help me out with everything I need. I don't even have to give him sex in return. I just have to be a grateful cripple.

But I’m afraid. Having a sugar daddy quarterback might seem like a comforting notion, but it could easily backfire and I could end up living in my worst nightmare. Because the competition will be fierce. I imagine millions of other cripples just like me were inspired by that story and they too are trying to think up the right gimmick to get the attention of a sugar daddy quarterback. And there are only so many quarterbacks to go around. So a mope like me could probably only win over a college quarterback at best. And even then probably only one from Division XII-B.

But it doesn’t matter because people are nuts about their football. And what’ll happen is someday I’ll drop my fork and nobody will be around to pick it up for me. But I’ll remember my sugar daddy quarterback telling me if I ever need help just call, anytime and anywhere. So I’ll send him a text that says HELP. And just my luck it’ll be right in the middle of the big game. And because I don’t give a shit about college football I won’t know it’s right in the middle of the big game. And when my sugar daddy quarterback sees my text he’ll remember his solemn promise to me and he’ll abruptly exit the stadium and flag down a cab. And the second string quarterback will come in and fuck everything up. And when the furious fans find out that the starting quarterback left so he could go pick up a cripple’s fork, those fans will send a posse to round me up so they can draw and quarter me in the town square.

So I’ll have to enter witness protection because pissing off football fans is like pissing off the mob. And being in witness protection is my worst nightmare because how can anyone successfully disguise a conspicuous old cripple like me? You can’t just stick a girl’s wig on me and call me Michelle.

Sometimes people in witness protection get surgery to alter their appearance. But there’s no surgery that can alter my appearance enough, unless they figure out a way to cure me. The only surgery that might work is gender reassignment surgery. I suppose if a surgeon could actually turn me into a crippled woman (with very hairy legs), I might be able to fool enough people to get by.

Having your own private sugar daddy quarterback may seem like the answer to every cripple’s prayer. But it doesn’t come without considerable risk.

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Friday, September 23, 2016

It’s so Stupid it’s Inevitable

Before I go to an unfamiliar place, I usually call ahead and make sure it’s accessible. I ask a bunch of specific questions because some people’s idea of an accessible venue is any place that it has 25 stairs or less.

On those occasions when I receive assurance that the place really and truly is accessible, I tell that person thanks. And I wonder if there’s ever a time when someone calls and asks if the place is accessible and when they’re assured that indeed it is they say, “Well in that case, screw you! I’m not coming!”

It would be stupid for anybody to feel that way, which means there must be some people out there who do. There always are.

There’s an organization called Little People of America, which, among other things, is dedicated to “raising positive awareness about dwarfism and addressing misconceptions about dwarfism.” It would be stupid for anybody to be threatened by that, so there must be some people who are. “Raising positive awareness about dwarfism and addressing misconceptions about dwarfism? Them there’s fightin’ words!”

Some people are very easily threatened by everything. It’s usually the white supremacy types. Those guys are always so miserable, which doesn’t make sense because being supreme is supposed to make you giddy, isn’t it? Isn’t that the whole point of being supreme?

But I guess they’re worried that anything can happen at any moment that can render them not so special anymore. This stuff about building ramps all over the place and addressing misconceptions about dwarfism, those are more examples of what’s it going to looks like when we're all living in the socialist dystopia that’s coming any day now. Everybody gets to go everywhere and do everything together! Everybody’s the same! Nobody’s special anymore!

Has anybody ever picketed outside a Little People event with a sign that says Tall Lives Matter? Is there a backlash organization called Normal Sized People of America?

Maybe not, but you can bet there are people thinking about it for sure. Maybe they don’t have the guts to say it out loud just yet but someday somebody will. Maybe it’ll be one of those rabid radio show guys. And as is always the case, when the first idiot dares to speak their mind, the closet idiots feel liberated. “Somebody’s finally speaking the truth!” And the idiots mobilize.

That’ll be the day when the restaurant hostess proudly declares to a caller that everything is fully and marvelously accessible and that caller curses her out and hangs up.

It’s all so stupid that it’s bound to happen soon.

(Smart Ass Cripple is completely reader supported. Purchasing Smart Ass Cripple books at, subscribing on Amazon Kindle and filling the tip jar keeps us going. Please help if you can.)

Friday, September 16, 2016

In the Mainstream

A lot of cripples aspire hard to be in the “mainstream.” We’re not even sure what and where the hell the mainstream is, but we figure trying to get there is worth a shot. Whatever and wherever it is, it sounds like it’s got to be a whole lot different from where we are now, so what have we got to lose?

Now me, I’ve always had mixed emotions about jumping into the mainstream. Mainstream sounds dangerously synonymous with normal and I’ve always been allergic to too much normal. Normal is a very good thing to aspire to when you’re talking about stuff like blood pressure and cholesterol levels. But becoming normal in every way isn’t always a step up to a higher wrung.

But then I received a letter from the Federal Bureau of Cripple Management. The letter announced a great new national initiative to mainstream every cripple in America. All I have to do, the letter said, is enroll in the program by calling the toll-free number below. And if I do enroll, within a matter of days I will be mainstreamed.

So I figured what the hell. Why not? I’m up for an adventure. I’m curious to see just where this mainstream is. And I’m glad the government finally recognized my right to be in the mainstream. So I called the toll-free number. And the next day there was a knock on my door. It was a man dressed like a limo driver. He said he was here to take me to the mainstream. But his vehicle wasn’t exactly a limo. It was an unmarked moving van with a wheelchair lift on the back.

The driver loaded me into the back of the truck, pulled down the door and latched it. There were several dozen other cripples inside the truck. None of us knew where we were going but we didn’t care. We were excited that at long last we were going to be mainstreamed. As we rattled down the highway in our stuffy, windowless cube, we sang songs like happy campers—100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall!

We picked up more cripples along the way and finally we arrived at our destination. It was a secluded, pristine, wooded area with a narrow river gently flowing through it. The air was cool and crisp. Several smiling employees of the Federal Bureau of Cripple Management were on hand to welcome us. The cripples were unloaded from the truck one by one.

“Where am I?” I asked the limo driver.

“You’re in Maine,” he replied.

“And what river is that?”

The limo driver chuckled. “That’s not a river. That’s a stream.”

And one by one the cripples were taken down to the water’s edge and dumped out of their wheelchairs into the stream.

But fortunately for me, I escaped because I know karate.

(Smart Ass Cripple is completely reader supported. Purchasing Smart Ass Cripple books at, subscribing on Amazon Kindle and filling the tip jar keeps us going. Please help if you can.)

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Alaskan Bear Stories as they Pertain to Coattail Access

Everybody from Alaska has a crazy story about a time when a bear suddenly appeared out of the blue. Here are my two favorite Alaska bear stories I’ve heard:

Scene: A grocery store. The manager sees a bear bounding through the parking lot, headed for the store entrance. The manager panics because the entrance door will automatically open when the bear steps on the magic rubber mat. So the manager pushes back with all his might against the inside of the entrance door, hoping he can stop the door from springing open for the bear. The bear steps on the magic rubber mat of the exit door instead. Nothing happens. The bear bounds away. Happy ending.

Scene: An emergency room. The automatic doors spring open and a bear enters. The emergency room staff lures the bear into a side room and locks the door. Somebody then calls the people you call when you need someone to sedate and remove a bear, while in the background the sound is heard of a furious bear trashing a locked room. The people from the bear sedation and removal service respond quickly and successfully do their job. Happy ending.

Both of these bear stories involve automatic doors. And because automatic doors are readily associated with cripples, this could be used to whip up a lot of anti-cripple backlash. “If it wasn’t for all these demanding cripples and their access laws, we wouldn’t have all these automatic doors all over the place, which present an open invitation for bears to waltz right on in!”

But that would be bullshit. Because back when I was a criplet, long before there were access laws, there were automatic doors on grocery stores and emergency rooms. Those were about the only places where there were automatic doors. Most cripple access was coattail access. It was accidental. If a place was accessible, it was done for something more important than cripples. And cripples got in on the coattails.

An example of something that was more important than cripples would be shopping carts. Automatic doors made it easier for people with shopping carts to get in and out of grocery stores so cripples got lucky and they could sneak in also. Another example of something more important than cripples back in those days was garbage. If a public building had a ramp, it was probably around back in the alley and it was there not for the purpose of letting cripples in but for taking garbage out. So the astute cripple could sometimes gain access via the garbage ramp. Although some security guard might stop you and say, “Hey, that ramp’s not for you. It’s for garbage.”

There used to be an elevator in the Cook County building in downtown Chicago and on the door it said HANDICAPPED AND FREIGHT. But it should have said FREIGHT AND HANDICAPPED because it was there first and foremost to haul freight, not to haul cripples. Although I guess one could argue that cripples do, technically, qualify as freight and therefore deserve to be treated with the same respect.


Smart Ass Cripple is taking some time off. Will post again the week of September 12

(Smart Ass Cripple is completely reader supported. Purchasing Smart Ass Cripple books at, subscribing on Amazon Kindle and filling the tip jar keeps us going. Please help if you can.)