Mold-a-rama

It used to be that if you roamed around the Museum of Science & Industry in Chicago you would occasionally come across a mold-a-rama vending machine. And if you dropped a couple of quarters into the slot, the metal mold inside of the machine would make grinding and whirling sounds as it positioned itself under a spout, from which hot, liquified plastic then poured into the mold. And the mold made more grinding and whirling sounds as the hot plastic inside of it solidified. You could sit back and watch this whole process unfold through the transparent shield of the mold-a-rama machine. And after about a minute the mold separated to reveal the precious souvenir it had made for you, which was a plastic bust of Abraham Lincoln. Maybe a souvenir plastic bust of George Washington was also an option. I don’t remember for sure. But the point is that in order to be worthy of being immortalized by a mold-a-rama plastic bust, you had to be not only famous but also revered. All of the U.S. presidents were famous enough to qualify, but only Lincoln (and possibly Washington) was revered enough. I don’t think that a plastic bust of Richard Nixon would’ve sold very well. But I wonder if the mold-a-rama people might’ve been cripple bigots because why not Franklin Delano Roosevelt? He was pretty revered, wasn’t he? The only reason I can think of that the mold-a-rama people must’ve had for deeming Roosevelt unworthy of having his own plastic bust was that he was crippled. His bust was good enough to be on dimes but it wasn’t good enough for them. (Please support Smart Ass Cripple and help us keep going. Just click below to contribute.) https://www.paypal.me/smartasscripple?fbclid=IwAR2qrql-UFH19OepgeaCG4WmblyNylb27k2q8eYxXHH

Accessible (Bouncy) Houses

When I see those colorful, inflatable bouncy houses that people put up in their yards for kids’ parties, I feel sad. What makes me sad is thinking about how those bouncy houses probably didn’t even exist back in the days when I was but a wee criplet. Technology probably hadn’t evolved that far. Because if it had, things would probably be a lot better for the criplets of today. The entrances to those things are never accessible. There is always at least one step up. But even if there was a ramp or something, then what? How could a kid in a wheelchair go bouncing around once they got inside of a bouncy house? The wheels would probably puncture and deflate it and maybe it would sputter and fly around backwards like a deflating balloon. Or maybe the whole thing would suddenly pop and disappear like a punctured balloon. So I would’ve sat outside the bounce house, pouting hard and being jealous as hell of how all the kids inside were bouncing around like maniacs. And if my mother had witnessed me going through such torment, it would’ve broken her heart. She would’ve been mad enough to sue to establish the legal right of disabled kids like me to bounce around like maniacs, too. But back then, there were no laws like the Americans with Disabilities Act to assert. The best leverage we had was to shame people. So instead of hiring a lawyer, my mother probably would’ve hired a publicist.And she and I would’ve gone around making television appearances, telling our sad story about the little crippled boy who only wants to bounce around like a maniac just like every other kid but he can’t do that because those mean old companies that make bouncy houses don’t care about crippled kids. And maybe they would’ve started making bouncy houses accessible. (Please support Smart Ass Cripple and help us keep going. Just click below to contribute.) https://www.paypal.me/smartasscripple?fbclid=IwAR2qrql-UFH19OepgeaCG4WmblyNylb27k2q8eYxXHH