Evil Spirits

If you see a single-family home that was built to be accessible for a wheelchair cripple, you know that either a) someone who lives there is a wheelchair cripple or b) someone who is important to someone who lives there is a wheelchair cripple.

I suppose it’s also slightly possible that whoever lives there is neither a wheelchair cripple nor gives a particular crap about anyone who is but they bought the house anyway because it was super cheap. And the reason it was super cheap is because it was built to be accessible for a wheelchair cripple. Making a house accessible for a wheelchair cripple lowers the value of that house and all the other houses around it, or at least that’s what a lot of people seem to think.

You'd think it would be the other way around. You'd think being wheelchair cripple accessible would be as much of a selling point for a house as an outdoor patio. When my Aunt Gerry bought a condo, she bought one that my sister and I could get into with our wheelchairs. And it turned out to be a damn good thing that she did because she ended up needing a wheelchair to get around eventually. The one thing she wanted more than anything else was to stay out of a fucking nursing home and she did. But if her condo hadn’t been wheelchair cripple accessible, she would’ve been screwed.

You’d think everybody would want to do sensible shit like that. Build houses where wheelchair cripple access is a standard feature, just in case. Why not? What does it hurt? But most people seem to think that when building or buying a house, the more wheelchair cripple inaccessible it is the better.

I think what’s going on here is an evil spirits type of thing. Sometimes people put grotesques or gargoyles or voodoo-looking scarecrow thingies on or around their houses to scare away evil spirits. It seems like a lot of people think that making wheelchair cripples feel unwelcome will make crippledness itself feel unwelcome and thus dissuade it from invading the household. I’m surprised they don't put tire-shredding spikes by the front door, as an extra line of defense.

But then, in spite of all that effort, someone in the household becomes crippled anyway and then they’re screwed. Because you can’t scare crippledness away. But you can outsmart it.





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The Mightiest

Back when I was a criplet attending cripple summer camp, there was an adult woman also attending summer camp who was so crippled that they rolled her around on a gurney. She was so crippled she couldn’t even sit up

I admit she freaked me out, even though she didn’t have fangs or anything. She seemed like a normal woman, except she rolled around on a gurney. She freaked me out because she was so crippled. I was glad I wasn’t that crippled.

But now there are days when I really wish I was that crippled. Those are the days when I’m protesting. On those days, if I was so crippled that I rolled around on a gurney, I’d feel so powerful.

Yep, if that was me I’d be marching through the streets with my gurney all done up like a float. And hanging on both sides of my gurney I'd have big banners saying stuff like FUCK REPUBLICANS.

And I'd be sure to always carry along a couple sets of shackles so that the people pushing my gurney could shackle me to the White House fence. That ought to make a few headlines, especially if I got arrested. Or my pushers could shackle me to the desk of some fascist lawmaker. Because there’s nothing every lawmaker dreads more than their secretary calling them and saying, “I’m sorry to bother you but there’s a man so crippled that he rolls around on a gurney shackled to your desk.”

And when I wasn’t protesting in the streets, I’d be trying to organize other people so crippled that they roll around on gurneys to come protest with me. Because the only thing that scares the shit out of a lawmaker more than the sight of a guy so crippled he rolls around on a gurney coming their way is the sight of a flotilla of people so crippled they roll around on gurneys coming their way.

When I protest, I’m very tempted fake like I’m so crippled I roll around on a gurney. I’d do it up big time, with a fake IV and all. But no doubt some right wing news outfit, threatened by my awesome power, will expose me as a fake. And that will be used to discredit all those who are legitimately so crippled they roll around on gurneys.

So for now I just have to accept the fact that I’m not yet so crippled I roll around on a gurney. I’ll just be patient and let nature take its course and maybe someday I’ll be that powerful.




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Crippled Fools Throughout the Centuries

If I wasn’t crippled, I don’t know if I would be a smart ass. Probably not. I think the two go hand in hand.

It’s the result of thousands of years of cripple evolution. It’s natural selection. I believe that the cripples that have survived the best throughout time are the ones that have the fool gene

Because there have always been cripples like me. They didn’t just invent us in the 20th Century. I imagine that cripples way way back in the days of yore had a pretty rough time of it. No wheelchairs, no nothing. How would a cripple like me survive? I bet the only ones who had a fighting chance were the ones that played the fool.

They probably smothered cripples like me way back when or left us for dead. I mean, they still do that today in some places. But somewhere along the line, some cripple, in a desperate, last-ditch effort to stay alive, probably made a goofy face or gimped it up real good or told a fart joke and everybody laughed. And everybody realized that maybe this particular cripple might have a little bit of worth after all. Maybe we should keep this one around for a little while. Everybody needs a good laugh, eh?

Yeah, I imagine that for many centuries, fool was about the only job option open to cripples, except for beggar. But begging is a dead end job. There’s no upward mobility. Being a fool, on the other hand, could be a path to true economic freedom. A particularly gifted crippled fool might maybe even rise to level of court jester. And then he’d get to live in the castle, summoned only when the king has a craving for shtick. Being crippled might even be considered a selling point when applying for the job of court jester. The king could brag to the other kings that his fool is no ordinary fool. His fool has a gimmick.

Back in those days, playing the fool was a very high stakes job. If your material fell flat and you were fired, you were back to being just another worthless cripple. For me today, being able to play the fool is a bonus, more or less. It still comes in handy. Like for instance, sometimes I have to hire a new person to join my pit crew, which is the team of people who assist me in my home. It’s not the greatest job, but it’s not the worst job either. Ass wiping and crotch washing are essential job duties. But I tell people it’s got to be better than the working at the 7-11 downstairs. It pays a little more and you don’t have to put up with corporate bullshit.

I find that one of the main things that makes people decide to join my pit crew and stick around is that I can tell a decent fart joke. It gives me an edge on the competition.

That why whenever I post a want ad for a pit crew member, in order to find people on the right wavelength, I always say that applicants must “have an appreciation for fart jokes.”




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Yet Another Ask Smart Ass Cripple

Dear Smart Ass Cripple,
I must take vehement exception to one of your entries, in which you referred to our current American president as an “anal wart.” How dare you! This characterization is unfair, inaccurate and ill-informed. On behalf of all decent Americans, I demand a retraction!
Yours in fury,
The Spokesman for all Decent Americans


Dear Spokesman,
Your letter caused me to engage in a great deal of reflection, which brought me to the sobering realization that I did indeed call our chief executive an anal wart without having a full understanding of what an anal wart is. So you are correct in asserting that I was ill-informed.

After studying up on anal warts on the internet, I’ve learned that there are some striking similarities between anal warts and the president. For instance, one site described anal warts as “cauliflower-like” in appearance. And there is something vaguely cauliflower-like about our president.

And, much like our president, anal warts are irritating and unsightly and embarrassing and a pain in the ass. But there is a significant difference. For the most part, anal warts aren’t lethal. Sometimes they develop into cancer, but not as a rule. Our president, on the other hand, is a cultural cancer that is 100 percent lethal. Unless excised as soon as possible, we’re all doomed.

So I hereby offer this retraction. I should not have referred to POTUS 45 as an anal wart. It was unfair, inaccurate and ill-informed. I should have called him a malignant anal wart.


Dear Smart Ass Cripple,
Do you consider yourself to be an artist? If so, when did you feel you could call yourself that?
Sincerely,
Art N. Kraft


Dear Art,
I definitely do call myself an artist. I knew I was an artist ever since I was an adolescent living at a state-operated boarding school for cripples, which I affectionately refer to as the Sam Houston Institute of Technology (SHIT).

I participated in an art contest. The creation of my masterpiece began when I rolled a paper drinking straw in a pool of Elmer's glue. Then I rolled the straw in red glitter and glued the glittery straw to a piece of green paper. And finally, I squirted streaks of Elmer's all over the green paper and sprinkled them over with more glitter.

I didn't give my sparkling abstract a title as I recall. I should have called it Nude on the Beach or Self Portrait. But it was displayed along with the work of all the other contestants on the windows of the nurse’s station and I won the grand prize, which was a whiffle football and kicking tee.

This is why I feel justified in calling myself an artist, though I no longer have the whiffle football to prove it.


Dear Smart Ass Cripple,
I’m sure you’ve heard the old admonition that masturbation will make you go blind. Is this true or is it just a wives tale? I figured you’d know.
Yours truly,
A Worried Catholic


Dear Worried Catholic,
All I can say is I’ve known many blind people in my life and every last one of them masturbated at some point. I’ve never asked any of them if they’ve ever masturbated. I just assume they all have and probably still do, seeing as they’re all human beings.





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