The Face of the Facially Disfigured

Mom was excited when she came home one day from her job with the federal government. She said a new janitor came in today to empty the office trash cans at the end of the day.

She recognized his face. She recognized it because it was scarred and smeared. She knew he just had to be the kid who attended that segregated elementary school for cripples with me in the 1960s. His name was Kareem Abdul Jabbar (smart ass cripple alias).

Legend had it that when Kareem Abdul Jabbar was a tiny kid, he was sitting in a car as some dumbass adult was smoking a cigarette while pumping gas. A fire broke out and the rest is history.

That was the only reason he was banished to the cripple school- because he has a disfigured face. There was nothing else crippled about him.

My mother said Kareem Abdul Jabbar was a very nice guy, very soft-spoken and mild-mannered. Mom said she felt happy for him that in spite of it all, he had the gumption to land on his feet.

But I wondered if Kareem Abdul Jabbar’s aspiration was to be a janitor on the night shift. Maybe so. But if not, I don’t know if he had much choice. Suppose he showed up at my mom’s office as an executive. A lot of people might’ve been uneasy with that. It’s one thing when a guy with a disfigured face takes out your trash. It’s quite another when you have to take orders from him. And if he was an executive, somebody would have inevitability grumbled about affirmative action. “He only got the job instead of me because of his face! Quotas! Reverse discrimination!” But nobody bitches about affirmative action when you’re a janitor.

And did Kareem Abdul Jabbar also aspire to be soft-spoken and mild-mannered? Again, I don’t know if he had much choice. Suppose he had a bent for flamboyance. Suppose he wore Hawaiian shirts that drew attention to him. Suppose he was opinionated. That would’ve been way too much for some people.

Kareem Abdul Jabbar was the face of the facially disfigured. He was their ambassador, if you will. And with that came tremendous responsibility. Don’t push it. Don’t overstep the unspoken bounds. Don’t blow it or they might not ever give another facially disfigured person a job. Mind your business. Do your job, efficiently and quietly.



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

ANNOUNCING: Smart Ass Cripple's Little Chartreuse Book. A new Smart Ass Cripple book hot off the presses at lulu.com. It still has that new Smart Ass Cripple book smell. Get yours today! Help keep Smart Ass Cripple going!

Before I was Invested

Ah yes, I remember back in the days before cripples like me were invested. What heady times those were! Like back in the 1970s, when I was still living in my mother’s house and there was no such thing as cripple-accessible public transportation, at least not in these parts. At one point there were big headlines about how the bus drivers and other public transit workers were threatening to go on strike. Everybody was all panicky, but I just sat back and laughed. Let ‘em strike ‘til they’re blue in the face, I gloated to myself. I’ll still get around just fine, thank you very much. I’ll still have my cripple van and my mother to drive it so screw all you all pathetic, interdependent suckers! Who’s the one getting left behind now? Ha!

But now I’m invested. The outside world isn’t the outside world anymore. I no longer live with mom and all the buses are accessible. So now a strike by transit workers would make me panicky as well because what if I want to go somewhere? Or what about the people who come get me in and out of bed? I call them my pit crew. If public transportation is shut down, how are they going to get to me? I’ll shrivel up and die!

Sometimes when I look out of the window and I feel dread because the weather is brutal as hell, like there’s an apocalyptic blizzard and it 900 below zero, I wonder how I’d feel if I was sealed away in some climate –controlled nursing home where it’s always 72 degrees, just like on Leave it to Beaver. I think it would be de ja vu. As I looked out of the window at those bundled-up losers, the exhilarating smugness would return at last! Don’t you frost-bitten sheep wish you could be like me, with nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to do 24/7 except watch Columbo (where it’s always 72 degrees)? This is like Club Med!

But I’m invested. I’m not sealed away it a climate-controlled nursing home. So when I look out the window and the weather is brutal as hell, I get panicky because what if I want to go somewhere? Or what about the people who come get me in and out of bed? If there’s an apocalyptic blizzard and it’s 900 below zero, how are they going to get to me? I’ll shrivel up and die!

I am no longer sovereign and strong, immune from that which befuddles the masses. I’m invested.



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

ANNOUNCING: Smart Ass Cripple's Little Chartreuse Book. A new Smart Ass Cripple book hot off the presses at lulu.com. It still has that new Smart Ass Cripple book smell. Get yours today! Help keep Smart Ass Cripple going!

Ambush of the Cripple Paparazzi

The anchorman said to stay tuned for a story about a special young man who received a big surprise today when he met his favorite football player.

And when I heard that, I said to myself, “Oh shit! Cripple paparazzi ambush!”

The kid looked to be about age 12 or so. He didn’t look crippled but the reporter said he was dealing with some kind of quirky malady. There the kid was, going to the children’s hospital for what he thought was a medical appointment. But when he got there the place was crawling with reporters and TV cameras. And when the poor kid realized what was going on, he stood there with a twisted grin on his face like he walked into a surprise party with his fly wide open or like he got caught picking his nose on the jumbotron.

And I knew exactly how he felt. Most every crippled kid gets ambushed like this at some point. I still have nightmares about it-- business execs standing beside me holding a gigantic cardboard check while we all smile for the flashing cameras. I’m grinning that same grin.

And then someone asked the kid who his favorite football player was. And the kid said who his favorite football player was. And then someone asked if he’d like to meet his favorite football player. And the kid shrugged and said sure. And as the kid and his family were escorted to a bus, he was followed by a parade of reporters like he was some sort of Kardashian or something.

And the bus took everybody to the football stadium, where the kid met his favorite football player. And the football player gave the kid a jersey. And the afternoon surprise played out exactly according to plan, just in time for the evening news.

But I knew what that kid was thinking when I first saw that grin. He was thinking, “Oh my God! Where’s the nearest fire escape?” But then he felt the pressure. He saw the faces of the reporters and their crews, so full of hope and expectation. He couldn’t let them down, not to mention all their viewers. He couldn’t send them home without a story. So he marched ahead.

And when someone asked him if he wanted to meet his favorite football player, I knew what he was thinking then, too. He was thinking, “What if I say no?” The temptation to do so and thus pull the plug everything was probably delicious. But again he felt the pressure. A lot of people were counting on him to see this through, including his favorite football player. If he didn’t react according to plan, he’d ruin it for everybody. To not consent would be like leaving them with blue balls.

So he marched ahead.



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

ANNOUNCING: Smart Ass Cripple's Little Chartreuse Book. A new Smart Ass Cripple book hot off the presses at lulu.com. It still has that new Smart Ass Cripple book smell. Get yours today! Help keep Smart Ass Cripple going!