Sex, Drugs, Money, Bodily Waste, Flatulence, Death and Cripples (to Name a Few)

Slang. Humans need slang. Humans would have a hard time coping with the vastness of life if there was no slang.

Humans need slang to defend ourselves. We turn to slang to help us deal with those phenomena in life that are just too real, those things that frighten us because they are overwhelmingly alluring or repulsive or, paradoxically, both. We can’t avoid or eliminate these dangerous things so we have to try to define them. Thus, we have to make them digestible. Slang is the enzyme that breaks them down. Slang demystifies. Slang ridicules and eviscerates. Slang sanitizes. Slang satirizes.

Some examples (to name a few):

Sex. Sex = fucking, humping, screwing, grinding, getting laid, doing the nasty, doing “it,” etc. Body parts associated with sex = dick, cock, wanger, pee pee, joystick, pussy, beaver (archaic), muff, love canal, tits, boobs, jugs, casaba melons, hooters, etc. Masturbation (male only) = jacking off, jerking off, tugging, pulling taffy. waxing the whale, spanking the monkey, etc.

Drugs. Drugs = crack, smack, meth, pot, weed, grass, percs, vikes, booze, brewskis, etc.

Money. Money = cash, bucks, bananas, bills, bones, Benjamins, clams, smackers, smackaroos, samolians, etc

Bodily waste. Bodily waste = shit, piss, pee pee, crap, turd, doo doo, dookie, poop, etc. The act of eliminating bodily waste = taking a dump, crap, leak, whiz, etc; going bowling, pinching a loaf, retiring to the library, making a boo boo, etc.

Flatulence: Flatulence = farting, passing gas, breaking wind, squeezing out an SBD, singing soprano, etc,

Death. To die is to pass, pass away, pass on, transcend, met your maker, expire, move to a better place, croak, kick the bucket, cash in your chips, etc.

Cripples. Cripples = disabled, cripples, gimps, handicapped, lame, differently-abled, handi-capable, physically challenged, mentally challenged, visually challenged, physically impaired, mentally impaired, visually impaired, the “r” word, invalids, etc.

What does all this say about cripples? I know it says something. Something big. Hell if I know what.

The Autism Hat

I see where the Food and Drug Administration has issued a warning that there are a lot of fake products and therapies popping up that claim to treat or cure autism.

I never knew there was so much big money in curing autism. And now I feel like a real chump because I can see that I was suckered by one of these autism snake oil pitchmen. I should have known better. The commercial about the new miracle cure for autism that reeled me in came on during the Three Stooges. When researchers at Johns Hopkins University find a miracle cure for something, I don’t think the next thing they say is, “Now let’s announce this to the whole world by putting a commercial on the Three Stooges!”

It was a commercial for the amazing new autism hat. Just put it on and your autism is gone! The breathlessly excited announcer said, “Do you have autism? Are you embarrassed? Well your troubles are over thanks to the amazing autism hat!”

I must admit the autism hat looked rather dopey. It looked like a 10-gallon cowboy hat with two radio antennae protruding from the top. Wearing it in public would certainly make a person conspicuous. But I guess anything’s better than having autism, right?

And the testimonials on the commercial were compelling. There was a smiling man wearing an autism hat. He looked like a regular Joe. And then he said, “I have Asperger Syndrome. But when I wear my autism hat, I’m a normal person! Thank you autism hat!” A young woman wearing an autism hat said, “I have autism and I never left my house because people on the street would stare. But now that I have an autism hat, people won’t stare at me anymore! Thank you autism hat!”

The announcer said, “What would you pay for this miracle cure for autism? Five million dollars? Two million? One million? Well with this special TV offer the incredible autism hat can be yours for three convenient payment of just $19.99! But that’s not all! Call within the next 20 minutes and you’ll receive a second autism hat absolutely free! Call now! Operators are standing by!”

I was so excited I called right away! I couldn’t wait to own my very own autism hat! And I don’t even have autism! But you never know what life may hold, I thought. Wearing an autism hat might keep me from catching autism in the future. It could be like an autism prophylactic.

But now, thanks to the FDA, I can see I was duped. Now what the hell am I supposed to do with my autism hat? I guess the only way I’ll get my money’s worth out of it now is if I dress up on Halloween as a cowboy from Mars.

Ruminations on Krazy Glue

In this case the word crazy is spelled with a k. That makes it the cool kind of crazy, the marketable kind. Crazy isn’t all bad. Crazy connotes the unique power of iconoclasm. Crazy connotes boldness. Crazy always connotes different but sometimes different is better. Sometimes different is strong, stronger than the rest. Strength is an admirable quality when it comes to glue. This must be the kind of crazy that’s spelled with a k.

But no one would ever think of making a product called kripple glue. Who the hell would buy it? Anything that you glue with kripple glue is bound to fall apart right away. Cripple connotes weak weak weak weak weak, no matter how you spell it. It cannot be salvaged with a k. Cripple is beyond redemption, even more so than crazy.

I used to feel sorry for those people we all call crazy. I used to think they were even more frowned upon and shunned than physical cripples. But I don’t feel that way anymore, ever since I fully considered the connotations of krazy glue

There are two marketing scenarios that call for spelling a word that begins with a hard c with a k instead. The first is if you want to be katchy, as in Kool cigarettes or Kars4Kids. The second is when something isn’t quite what it claims to be and you want to cover your ass, as is krab. A krab kake probably contains more rubber than fish. But the FDA can’t say shit about it because there are no regulations defining what constitutes a krab.

This later scenario presents the most plausible rationale for spelling cripple with a k. A kripple is a fake cripple. And there are plenty of kripples out there. Kripples all over the place in movies and television shows. And the actors who play kripples usually win awards. And according to the republicans, the streets are teeming with kripples who are trying to scam Social Security and Workers’ Comp.

And continuing along this line of logic, a strong case can be made for spelling the word courage with a k, or at least the type of courage a lot of people ascribe to cripples. They say we’re brave and courageous just because we’re not dead, which means I guess that when we die we’re being chicken shits. This is fake courage. Kourage. Maybe someday the president will award fake medals for this type of fake courage. Call it the Kongressional Medal of Kourage.



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The Dignity of Work

Deep down in this deep red republican state, you just might see men and women in orange jumpsuits working alongside the highway. And if they look like they have Down syndrome, it’s probably because they do. But don’t be alarmed. It’s all part of a bold new social experiment designed to make it possible for every cripple in this state to experience the dignity of work, whether they like it or not.

Because let’s face it, this is the 21st Century and perceptions of cripples have changed. Everyone knows that just about every cripple is quite capable of working, if given the right opportunity. Thus, the legislature in this deep red republican state created the Dignity of Work Service Corps, through which cripples receiving public assistance are required to perform community service jobs.

So those people with Down syndrome working alongside the road probably live in a group home. And in exchange for their room and board they must participate in this “day program” known as the Roadkill Chain Gang. Because somebody has to clean up those smashed critters that don’t make it across the road, eh? So instead of just sitting around their group home all day watching the tube and rotting their brains, these residents are put to good use and also feel the satisfaction of earning their keep.

Not all those in Dignity of Work Service Corps perform public service jobs. Some work serving the needs of the most vulnerable citizens of their state. And when I say most vulnerable, I am referring, of course, to the ultra rich. The ultra rich are very much under siege these days. Their lifestyle is increasingly threatened by the growing jealousy of their success and calls to seize and redistribute their wealth. But the good news is that this simmering class hostility has led to the creation of additional jobs as servants for the ultra rich. Here are a couple job descriptions:

Food taster: As resentment of the ultra rich reaches new heights, so does their need for food tasters. These jobs are perfectly suited for the Dignity of Work brigade. These tasters spend their workdays lounging in palatial estates and eating gourmet meals that are really really enjoyable, 99.9 percent of the time.

Predator chaser: Low class humans aren’t the only beasts encroaching upon the ultra rich. As their palatial estates expand and absorb the habitats of other wild species, the ultra rich are finding their properties being intruded upon by everything from coyotes and mountain lions to hyenas and zebras. Nothing puts a damper on a garden party more than a hyena invasion. The key to shooing away predators is to remember that one animal’s predator is another animal’s prey. So members of the Dignity of Work brigade patrol the perimeters of the garden parties but they don’t wear orange jumpsuits. Instead they dress up like gorillas or bears or other such fierce predators. And if an unwelcome animal approaches, these plucky patrolers growl and charge the animal while frantically banging two pots together like cymbals. And if this fails, another member of the Dignity of Work brigade is always perched on a nearby roof dressed up like an insane rabid pterodactyl. And the giant bird leaps off the roof and takes flight, using an elaborate assembly of pulleys and wires like Peter Pan on a Broadway stage. This never fails to send even the most brazen predator into retreat. Because nobody wants to fuck with an insane rabid pterodactyl frantically banging two pots together like cymbals.

The Enduring Career of Godzilla

A monster becomes a monster when it transcends the categorizing constraints of binomial nomenclature. When creating a monster, it’s very important to keep this in mind if you want to avoid the kind of political controversy that can ruin a monster’s career.

Because monsters are villains and if a villain can be even remotely identified as being a symbol of any specific genus and/or species, sooner or later some group of noble humans will rise up to defend reputation of that genus and/or species or subcategory within. They will say this genus and/or species or subcategory within is being unfairly demonized because they bear a resemblance the villain. These noble humans will picket and boycott and demonize the demon for being a demonizer.

This is why Godzilla’s career endures. Godzilla is the perfect timeless monster/villain. No one can accuse it of being a maligning stereotype of any living thing because what the hell is it? It’s this lizardish thing. You can’t even tell if it’s a boy or a girl. It can’t be a boy because if it was a boy it would have a wanger about 20 feet long, swinging to and fro with enough force to demolish the Chrysler Building. What a way to go that would be, eh? You’re looking out of your office window in the Chrysler Building and there’s Godzilla’s 20-foot wanger coming straight at you like a wrecking ball.

Godzilla doesn’t have a vagina either. And that’s a shrewd move because if it did have a vagina it would be picketed and boycotted for insinuating that females are demons. So a timeless monster /villain also must have no genitalia or any sexually identifying characteristics. It must be a genderless “it” like Godzilla.

A timeless monster/villain must display no identifying racial or ethnic characteristics either. Godzilla also passes this test. It does not look Jewish or Asian or Anglo or anything other than lizardish.

So thank God for Godzilla. Because humans need monsters/villains. Monsters/villains provide a very therapeutic, tension-relieving service for humans. They give us something to blame. They make evil concrete. And because Godzilla is so uncategorizable, it can be whatever giant threat to civilization the paying customer privately fantasizes it to be. It can be a giant evil republican or a giant evil drag queen or a giant evil Hillary or a giant evil chronically unemployed welfare mooch driving around in a Mercedes. It can even be a giant cripple, although a giant cripple wouldn’t have to stomp a metropolis into kindling in order to instill terror into ordinary citizens. Fear of cripples is more of an existential fear. Cripples don’t have to do anything to scare people. We just have to be. We are symbols of vulnerability and nothing sends chills through the ordinary citizens more than that. So a giant cripple would only have to sit there looming on the horizon, an ever-present buzzkill blotting out the sun. This would be provocation enough for NATO to nuke the giant cripple.

And in the end, when Godzilla is vanquished, every paying customer of every political or sexual or ethnic persuasion can stand and cheer side by side because whatever evil they perceive Godzilla to be has also been vanquished! But deep in our hearts we know it’s not the end. We know there will surely be a remake.

Someday soon though somebody may picket and boycott Godzilla. Because Godzilla is decidedly reptilian. And there are lots of people who think reptiles get a lot of undeserved shitty press. They say snakes are so smart that they can do calculus and shit. They say iguanas are so kind and gentle they can babysit your kids. So then Godzilla will receive a radical makeover to the point where it will lose all its meaning.


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A Service Dog in Action

I have to admit that I’m skeptical when I see a wheelchair cripple with a service dog. I can certainly understand what dogs do for blind people. Dogs perform essential services that help blind people live a high quality of life, like making sure they don’t get hit by a bus.

But when I see a cripple in a wheelchair with a service dog, I often ask that cripple what services the dog performs. I ask because often I’d like to be able to assert my crippledness so I can take my two dogs places where no dogs are allowed. But what happens if the proprietor asks me to demonstrate whatever service the dogs perform for me? About the only useful thing they do is clean up after I eat by gobbling up whatever scraps I drop on the floor.

But when I ask wheelchair cripples what their dogs do, I usually get one of two answers. The first answer is something like, “My dog is an emotional support animal. He/she calms me down and makes me happy.” But isn’t that why everybody who has a dog has a dog? So I don’t know if that will wash with most proprietors. Emotional support dog is a redundant term.

Or sometimes wheelchair cripples tell me their service dogs perform heroic feats that make Lassie look like a puss. These wheelchair cripples tell me something like, “My dog knows when I’m about to have a seizure. So he/she knocks me out of my wheelchair and pins me down like a wrestler until it’s over.”

But that wouldn’t work for me either. First off, my dogs are little Chihuahua/dachshunds. It would take about ten of them to pin me down. And if I had a seizure my dogs would probably just freak out and run away. Either that or they’d think it was some fun new game and they’d giddily prance around in circles.

But recently I was with this wheelchair cripple who had a service dog. This guy wore a flannel shirt and he had a round belly and long beard. He was the jovial-lumberjack type. So just as I asked this guy what service his service dog does for him, a woman passed by and said, “Oooh look at that dog. He’s sooooo cuuuute! Can I pet him?” And as the woman pet the dog, the lumberjack cripple shot me a sly look and said, “That’s what my dog does for me.”

Whoa! There you go! His service dog attracts women for him! And hell, my dogs can perform that service easy. They do it every day. If a proprietor insists that my dogs demonstrate the service they perform, it’ll be just a matter of minutes before a woman comes by and says, “Oooh look at those dogs! They’re sooooo cuuuute! Can I pet them?”

And the proprietor would have to let me in. Because who can deny that this is an essential service that helps cripples (or anybody else) live a high quality of life?

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I Don’t Want to be Blamed for the Unsustainable Trajectory of America’s Entitlements.

Soon you might see a picture of me out there on the internet where I’m wrapped up in bandages like a mummy and I’m in traction. Don’t be alarmed. I’m just trying to cover my ass. I don’t want to be blamed for the unsustainable trajectory of America’s entitlements.

Because apparently there is this shadowy entity known as the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform’s Subcommittee on Energy Policy, Health Care & Entitlements. That’s a helluva mouthful, ain’t it? I guess their acronym is HCOGRSEPHCE. But one of the duties of HCOGRSEPHCE, according to its mission statement, is “oversight of the … issues pertaining to the unsustainable trajectory of America’s entitlements, including Medicare, Medicaid and federal disability programs.” So that means part of their jobs is to root out scammers who are trying to score free checks by pretending to be crippled.

Well hell, if HCOGRSEPHCE wants to find fake cripples, they ought to investigate those television commercials of ambulance-chaser lawyers. Notice how the cripples in those commercials never look the least bit crippled. But yet they brag about the fat settlements they got. You never see a real cripple in a wheelchair in those commercials or even a cripple missing a limb. I bet if HCOGRSEPHCE looked into it, they’d find that the cripples in those commercials are really just actors!

But instead, some members of the subcommittee have put forth legislation that would allow Social Security employees to examine social media profiles of those applying for or receiving cripple benefits to help determine whether they are really crippled.

Yikes!

I know where they got that idea. There were those big headlines a few months back about the New York City cops and firefighters who were arrested and charged with pretending to be emotionally crippled by the 9/11 attacks so that they could collect Social Security checks. And part of the evidence against one of them was a Facebook photo of him giving the finger while riding a jet ski.

And I thought oh hell! I never suspected that giving the finger could be used as evidence that you’re not crippled, unless you claim that what qualifies you as crippled is that you’re missing your middle finger.

I’m really screwed now! And I never suspected that being out doing something fun could also be used to cast doubt upon the authenticity of one’s crippledness.

So I can’t be too careful. Not with HCOGRSEPHCE standing guard. I’ve got to destroy all potentially incriminating pictures of me enjoying myself or flipping the bird, just in case we’re reverting back to the old fashioned calculation for determining crippledness: Crippled = homebound + miserable. The mummy in traction photo will serve as my headshot and my profile picture and the official record of my state of being. I don’t want there to be any public pictures of me doing anything Tiny Tim wouldn’t do.