Classic George Carlin – Enjoy!
‘Tired of the Handi-Crap’
Now, listen. I gotta tell you somethin’ and I’m not gonna sugarcoat
this because it is what it is. But boy, oh boy, am I getting’ tired of
all this handicapped business. Aren’t you? Huh? Don’t you think this
handicapped shit has gone far enough?
And I’m like you, folks; normally I would feel sympathy for these
people. but the first thing they tell you is that they don’t want
sympathy. You ever hear ’em say that? “I don’t want your sympathy.”
And I say, fine, fuck you. No sympathy.
And by the way, if there are any handicapped people reading this, I am
not talking about you, alright? I am talking about the other
handicapped people, the ones who’ll never see this book. So don’t get
all excited and start rolling around causing trouble in your electric
go-carts or whatever the fuck it is. Calm down. I’m on your side.
I NEED MY SPACE
And just to show you my heart’s in the right place, I’m gonna start
out by mentioning a few of the positive things about the handicapped,
okay? First of all, the big blue parking spaces. This was a great
idea. I think most people would agree, those spaces come in mighty
handy (which is where the word “handy-capped”) came from in the first
place — a lot of people don’t know that). They’re always right near
the entrance of the store or the building, and I find that I can get
in and out of the place in a hurry and complete my business with a
minimum of delay.
Another handicapped feature I enjoy are the extra-large toilet stalls
in public restrooms, once again, an excellent idea. There’s so much
room in there to stretch out; it’s like a gymnasium. I can do some
pushups, work on my kick-boxing, try out a few dance steps.
Occasionally I bring a picnic lunch. Nothing fancy; just a small
salad, a bit of cheese, prehaps a delicate Bordeaux.
I find once you’re locked in there, you can pretty much do what you
want. about the only limitations might be common decency and a
sensible regard for personal safety. One time, I had a few friends
over and we played cards all night. The good thing was when one of the
players had to take a shit, he didn’t have to drop out of the game for
several hands. He simply traded places with the person using the
toilet as a chair and it worked out great.
I mention all this because I want you to know I recognize some of the
positive things that have grown out of this unfortunate obsession
America has with the handicapped.
THEY’RE EASILY BOARD
But on this subject I also have a few complaints to make, the main
one being this business at the airport of letting the handicapped get
on the plane early. I don’t like the idea of people boarding ahead of
me just because they’ve had a run of bad luck. It doesn’t seem fair.
I think if a person’s had some bad luck, it should apply across the
board to all segments of his life. We shouldn’t be going around
trying to selectively fix people’s bad luck. And what bothers me most
about the process is, I’m not sure all these people are truly
handicapped; some of them don’t look that fucked up. I think there’s
a fairly hefty amount of bullshitting going on the check-in counter.
ROLLIN’, ROLLIN’, ROLLIN’
The whole fiasco begins just before the flight, with the parade of
wheelchairs. And apparently, just about anyone can get their hands on
one of those airport wheelchairs. You know the ones I mean? The ones
the airlines provide? Not a wheelchair some guy brings from home; I
don’t mind that. I figure if a guy has laid out money for his own
wheelchair, he’s probably legitimately fucked up. You know? Like if a
huge chunk of his head is missing, or he’s got a whole caved-in chest
and one or three of his limbs don’t work. generally, in a case like
that, I’m gonna give the guy the benefit of the doubt. I say roll his
ass down the jet-way and let’s get the fuck out of town. A lot of old
people are lazy, because somehow when they hit their 80’s or 90’s,
they think it’s time to take it easy. Old people aren’t “spry” and
“full of ginger” anymore. Now they’re all just lazy. And frankly, I
think they’re just tryin’ to get a free ride to the gate.
But lets get back to the actual process of boarding. As soon as the
wheelchair derby is over the next thing you have to contend with is
these people who show up with canes and crutches; what I call the
quasi-handicapped. And even though I’m willing to cut the wheelchair
people some slack, I’m not so easy on the cane folks. I’m convinced
most of these jokers with canes really don’t need than.
And once again it’s the old people, trying to gain sympathy and get
to the front of the line. It’s obviously a scam, have you noticed, for
instance, how suddenly these canes materialize? Out of nowhere? One
minute everyone at the gate looks perfectly healthy, the next minute
half of ’em have a limp. And before you know it there are twenty or
thirty people leanin’ on canes. I’m convinced that somewhere in the
airport (which has now become a large mall with airplanes as a side
attraction)there must be a little place where you can rent canes.
‘Canes on Planes.’ But you know something? I’m not that upset. Not
really. Because the best part about these “handicapped” people getting
on the plane first is that they have to get off last. Fuck ’em, they
always get off last. While they’re still lookin’ for their carry-on
bags and rectal thermometers, I’m halfway into town. You see? Life has
a way of evening things out.
[from ‘When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?’ by George Carlin.]
~thanks to Stan Kegel