Wheelchair Super Villain

My sister sent me this picture of a collection of wheelchair action figures. I suppose wheelchair action figure’s a bit of an oxymoron, but anyway, I kind of like the guy all the way over on the right- he looks like a sort of evil super villain. Back when I was newly injured and thought my life was over, it came to me (probably in a painkiller induced fantasy) that I could at least become a wheelchair-bound super villain. I could dress up in strange suits, shave my head and maybe even get one of those creepy cats to put on my lap for that authentic look. But then I realized my hands were inoperable so I wouldn't be able to hold the cat if it tried to run away. I know! I could just give him some of my painkillers, I imagined, and then he wouldn't want to run away. Anyway, ever since I was a child I had been secretly bent on world domination, but I ended up as a heating and air-conditioning contractor instead. Go figure!

Lying there in my hospital bed I realized I had to get really good at manipulating people to get them to do what I wanted. Hey! Can you change the channel for me? Hey! My forehead’s itchy... no a little to the left... no, higher. Hey! Can you break into that sporting goods store and steal some guns? You get the picture. I figured after a few months of this, I could have a whole platoon of innocent looking healthcare workers wearing scrubs who could be summoned at a moment’s notice- hell, half of ‘em are teetering on the edge anyway. I’d do it from the inside. Start with the rehab facility I was in then work my way into a nursing home, infiltrate a hospital or two, and next thing you know, I’d have an army of veritable automatons ready and willing to implement my evil plan. Unfortunately, the painkillers wore off and I sort of lost interest in that idea. Or did I?

The Confused and Scattered Vortex

Sometimes I feel as if I’m slipping further and further into the confused and scattered vortex. The confused and scattered vortex is a place where everyone does lots of things and looks really busy, but in reality, very little is actually getting done. You know, where everyone's a bunch of multi-taskers who have convinced themselves that they are somehow more productive, the more shit they jam into their daily schedules. It's hard to avoid the vortex. At first it seems like the right thing to do. The way to get ahead is to outwork the other guy- work circles around the rest of the monkeys. Hurry up and get your diploma. So you can hurry up and get a job. So you can hurry up and outwork your coworkers. So you can hurry up and find a cozy spot in the graveyard. Where's the fucking fire?! Maybe we need to slow down, dig in our heels, and refuse to do 16 things a day in the superficial and half-assed way. Maybe the world wouldn’t be such a fucking miserable place if people would just slow the hell down and actually concentrate on what they're doing. I have a feeling that the douche bags who run the show sit around and accomplish tasks at their leisure, one thing at a time, don't let themselves get distracted. Yet they've got the rest of us convinced they were supposed around like chickens with our heads cut off. Well, don't listen to them. Stay away from the confused and scattered vortex. Go your own pace: slow and steady wins the race.

Yet Another Reason to Stay Away From Facebook

http://www.prwatch.org/news/2011/10/11078/cmd-demands-investigation-facebooks-impact-privacy

Okay, so if people who use facebook don’t already care about the lack of privacy they willingly submit to, why would they suddenly care about this newest Big Brother-esque gadget. Facebook seems to be slowly, but surely baiting people into unwittingly giving up information about themselves so that they can sell this valuable information to some marketing douche. I have an eerie feeling that facebook purposely keeps changing their privacy policy and settings so that your average user will simply give up trying to decipher what personal info is getting spread all over the internet. The innate need to tell others about whatever random thought just popped into people’s heads vastly outweighs any concern that a well organized network of corporate spies is making money off their every keystroke(facebook’s free…right?). Ironically, the people protesting on Wall St. are complaining that corporations have too much power. I think that as a society, we’ve essentially handed them this power because we never question the big picture stuff like: Gee, I wonder what facebook does with all the information about people it collects? All we’re doing is making their job way easier than it’s supposed to be, just so we can entertain ourselves. In a sense, I feel like we’re now getting what we’ve had coming. There is a price to be paid for our insatiable appetite for constant entertainment, speed, and convenience: it’s called capitulation. Corporations can’t be blamed for our own ignorance, they’re simply filling the vacuum we left behind when we forfeited our rights in the name of convenience and entertainment.

Wheelchair Envy

When I first got injured I had no idea what a trendsetter I was. Nice try guys.

Never Fuck With a Man in a Wheelchair

First of all, they probably don’t have much to lose. Who knows, maybe they’re feeling extra grumpy because their stupid morning aid forgot to close the pee bag all the way, and they spent half the day soaked in their own urine. Secondly, chances are they’re some kind of danger seeker to begin with, just waiting for an opportunity to bust some skulls- hence the wheelchair. And thirdly, paralyzed people feel no pain- literally.

Am I Supposed to Hate My Life?

Sometimes I get the feeling that people are uncomfortable with a quadriplegic who is acting just a little too happy. What he fuck is he so smiley about, stupid dipshit must enjoy being a cripple. You’re supposed to stay in a constant state of angry dissatisfaction, or else that's a clear sign that you’re not trying hard enough to un-cripple yourself. I heard that if you ever show your disability any signs of happiness, it might start to get the idea that you actually like being in a wheelchair. By the way, I know a guy who was paralyzed for five years until one day he fell in a pool, and wouldn’t you know it, that bastard started swimming. It’s all in your state of mind, you know. Problem is, unless you’re in a constant state of dissatisfied yearning, your spinal cord has no chance of ever repairing the broken spot. In fact, research has shown that spinal cord tissue thrives on negative emotions, emotions which bombard the broken part with subatomic negatively charged protoplasm. Without this critical element, the damaged spinal cord gets complacent and forces the body to figure out other ways of getting shit done. That’s where it all goes to hell. Don’t ever bother learning any alternative ways of doing things because that too will be a sign that you’ve given up on life and secretly like having complete strangers wipe your ass. So wipe that smile off your face, cripple, your making everybody uncomfortable!