Have Some Turd With Your Morning Squee, Guera, Because Life Doesn't Taste Like Shit Often Enough

Oh, Beekay, you so fucking funny, you nasty little bigot. I mean, how can can you not see the humor in this little bit of dialog in the Captions thread:


Peaches: "I don't understand...what's "pre-empted" mean?"

Ollie: "It means that some other act took our time slot...so we have to wait..."

Flake: "Hmph!"

Paul: "Look at the bright side - we have more time to practice what we're going to do on the Telethon!"

Sch: "I hate telethons...the last time I did a charity event some crippled kid hit me with his crutches...
then just as I was getting up - BAM! - some fat lady in a motorized scooter runs over me!"

Till: "Just as well...I have to go pee...*Looks around*...anyone know where the washroom is?"
*Gets up and meanders to the door, mumbling under his breath "Who pre-empts Rammstein?"*


Yes, because Doom strikes me as the sort to hold grudges against "crippled kids"; it's not like he took care of his double-amputee grandfather for the last several years of his life, carrying him around like a child. Nope, Christoph is a hateful, narrow-minded twat who thinks disabled folks are inattentive peons who take pleasure in spazzing out on able people in fits of petty, bruising revenge. It's not like they're terribly embarrassed when their bodies slip the reins because they know they've just reinforced every negative stereotype about themselves. Nope, they grin with drool-slick glee whenever they do something "crippled" and inconvenience their snooty, privileged betters.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you self-absorbed cunt. I wish I could raise these issues to your bovine face, but I know that the second I out myself as a "cripple", the gross condescension will begin, and there will be eye-rolling and head-patting and accusations of Taking It Too Seriously and Being a Bitter Cripple Who Expects the World to Cater to Her Whims, and I shouldn't have to fight those exhausting, unwinnable battles in a place I go to have fun and join the fannish gestalt.

Whenever I see posts like these, I indulge in a little fantasy wherein the Rammstein road crew sees me waiting outside the venue and takes pity on the poor disabled fan getting shit on by the more aggressive fans(this has happened once, with Megadeth, who decided it was bullshit that I paid for a ticket but couldn't see anything but asses because I'd been shoved to the back. God bless you, Dave Mustaine and unknown British road manager. I got to sit just off the stage for two-thirds of the show.). The road crew lets me come inside and sit while they powwow with band members over what to do with me. Till is a big old softie, and Richard is Mr. "Everyone Deserves Dignity", so they think it over and eventually find a safe, reasonably unobstructed view for me. A few of them wander over to say hello and marvel at the wonder of an intelligent fan with wheels under her ass. Richard gets huggy because that's how he demonstrates his lack of discomfort with disabled people. Doom ambles over for a chat, as does Paul. Till hides, but Olli waves.

I get to see the show, and no one steps on me or shoves me or lands on my head or spills beer on me. Richard leers a little from his spot, just to make sure I feel included. After the show, Richard wanders over, sweaty and shirtless, to ask if I enjoyed the show(performance anxiety, you know), blissfully unaware that I am still enjoying the show. I say yes. More hugs, maybe a picture. Others trickle out to say hello. I go home with memories of a lifetime, and all those pissants who look down their noses at me and mine go back to the boards and dream about how cool it would be tro meet Rammstein.

Meanwhile, I still smell like Richard.

I know it will never happen, but it's a nicer daydream than the one about Christoph hating the cripples, and it keeps me from losing my shit on assholes like Beekay.