Tuesday, July 30, 2013


I'm not talking about that friendly tannie that sits outside the Pick'n'Pay collecting change for charity. I'm talking about real cripple cock-blasters, the type of persons who wholeheartedly embrace the notion that the world owes them something. Our national hero, Oscar, being a case in point. At the time of his teary trial, or hearing, or arraignment, or whatever, I very carefully steered well clear of writing anything about it, but since the story has all but been forgotten, the coast is now clear. Apparently he was a colossal asshat. Ok, so it's not much of a story... Please refer to the end of Monty Python's 'The Meaning Of Life'.

No, all this is about what I just saw. Enter Mr Legless Luge Guy. Hand operated bicycle on which you lie down - check. Inappropriate cycling shorts - check. Ridiculously expensive Oakleys - check. Helmet - check. Regard for own life - not a fuck! We all labour under the misconception that disabled people are nice, or at least careful. Notafuck! This oke - cruising along Beach Road in Sea Point - was actually a bit of a turd. Actually, make that a presidential candidate size pile of festering turd turds. As I drove past, I was immediately awash with the default reaction to seeing someone so successfully overcome adversity. I felt like I could respect this man for not allowing his lack of perambulatory equipment hinder his lust for life. I then stopped at a red traffic light, as you do, you know, one that straddles and very successfully regulates the flow of traffic across a four way intersection. Apparently, like all bicyclists, this tit deemed it entirely unnecessary to stop at all, never mind even slow down to see if something was coming. Now, I was standing right there, idling away a month's salary, I saw it happen. He is no more than 2 feet off the ground, hands a churning. The chances of a car crossing - rightfully - the intersection and not seeing him are approximately 100%. Apparently Deathwish Dave is made of Titanium. It got me thinking. So what if he had some poor bastard plough into him as he blithely bombed across the red light. Just another casualty, right? Put the arsehole out of his misery? But what about the distraught driver that hit him? It would clearly not have been his fault, but I guarantee you the general public and probably the public prosecutor may see things a bit differently...

Therefore, sir, today's award for being the biggest piece of shit goes to you, you unrepentant wanker! Disabled people are not all nice. I know this. I have just witnessed it first hand. The evidence is undeniable. I will now cast a suspicious, jaundiced eye over anyone in the special parking spot. I hope you're happy.

[Disclaimer: In no way do I intend to belittle the plight of the truly disabled. I most certainly sympathise. I might even empathise, as soon as I look up the difference. I too have various disabilities, not least of which is my rather frustrating inability to play the guitar at anything above funereal pace, hence the love of DOOM Merrills. I even have a variety of disabled friends, although they keep insisting that being a bit dof isn't really a disorder...]

On quite a different, more pleasant note, last night's band practice was tonnes of fun. Rose Thorn decided it was high time to stay over so we could get smashed/legless (see that?) together. And we did. It was a thing of rare beauty and I can't wait to witness the horror that is us recording us trying to sing the vocal arrangement we came up with for our new old song. Why is it every time I've had a lot too many, I feel the need to bellow along at the top of my lungs. Even the neighbourhood cats take cover.

It's a beautiful day. Yesterday's run went exceedingly well. Today I celebrate having legs and the fact that I'm not entirely an inconsiderate colostomy bag, and I do my "long run". If you see me hurtling through Clifton at the speed of dark, please try not to run me over or point and laugh.

NGDG: A Zimbabwean waiter once told me that Mugabe cannot die because he smokes marijuana and has virgin blood transfusions. Then the Lance Armstrong* scandal broke. Now I'm convinced the geriatric silk-screen enthusiast is sponsored by the US postal service.

*King of Disabled Dicks. Nice how Neal knew I was going to have this encounter today...

Spread The Love. Hug A Paraplegic.


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