Blinded by the light.

8 Feb

I stopped to talk to my asshole neighbor on the street the other day, and he got me thinking about some pretty deep stuff. The man is hilarious. He started to explain to me why seeing eye dogs should be replaced by seeing eye midgets. Why, you ask? So many reasons.
For starters, do you know how hard it is for midgets to get jobs? Probably harder than it is for Rosie O’Donnel to get a modeling contract. The only positions they’re ever offered are to be spectacles at the circus, freak show eye candy for extravagant raves, or midget wrestling at bars where drunk college kids try to pick them up and dump beer on them. Pretty slim picking for the dwarf population. Why not take pride in a job helping a visually disabled person?

It’s brilliant. Unlike dogs, midgets have posable thumbs, making their fine motor skills much more advanced. They can open cans of pop, or more importantly, beer. They can open doors that aren’t automatic. They can do your grocery shopping. They can answer the phone, and read your mail.

Unlike dogs, midgets can talk. It’s just one less thing that blind people have to learn how to do: talk “dog.” Communication will come with ease. No longer will the Ray Charles’ of the world have to leave the house wearing mismatched clothes. Sparky wouldn’t have been able to tell you you’re dressed worse than Britney Spears, but Phillip the dwarf certainly can.

In conclusion, let’s stop this “blind leading the blind” phenomena. (Snort.) Let the handicapped help the handicapped. Vote Dwarf.

Safety locks on seatbelts do nothing but piss me off. I get road rage all right, but not because of other idiot drivers in Corollas on the interstate. I cannot explain with words alone how frustrated I become when my seatbelt goes manic on me and straps me to my seat with little air to expand my lungs. Maybe it’s the slight claustrophobia it brings out in me, but I become outraged. Then you try to fix it, and it only squeezes harder and tightens inch by inch until it crushes your rib cage. It’s like a game of mercy that you can’t win.

On that note, why do child safety windows exist on cars? There is no way a child is going to dive out of the back seat window on I-80 because their window is open all the way. Besides, the child safety window feature only spares you about four inches. Is four inches really that much of a prevention? I don’t think so. That’s like making a stair case railing a foot high. Just let me open the window the whole way, Toyota.

One of my customers cut herself with my knife the other day. I handed her one of my tools and let her fondle it while I explained its name and uses, and I watched as she ran the blade across her finger tip. “OUCH!” she squealed, and looked up at me in utter shock. “It cut me!!” Really, Susan? The knife cut you? Why are you surprised? That’s what knives are for. Cutting. They cut things. Knives are used to cut. If you held a gun to your leg and pulled the trigger, would you be taken by surprise when it blew out your hamstrings? Seriously.

I run into some legally insane customers with this job. The only thing I can say is, thank god I carry weapons with me everywhere I go. A man I had on Tuesday buys, sharpens, and collects knives as a hobby. He isn’t just a commonplace fan of knives though; he’s like the single 53 year old woman who dedicates her entire life to finding rare Beanie Babies, and spends her life savings on collecting every single one ever made, filling shelves, chairs, tables, cabinets, beds, closets and cribs with them. Numerous times throughout my demonstration, this man jumped up from his chair and scampered upstairs to bring down piles of knives he has accumulated over the years. After showing me a military Ka-Bar knife made in Sweden, he said, in all seriousness, “Now this knife is used for killing people. You can see it has the blood drain here to make victims bleed out faster. Otherwise the knife acts as a plug once it’s in their body.”

I left crying.

Kidding. He bought a potato masher and four different hunting/sporting/fishing knives.

Time to do work, son.

“Did you know that you’re allergic to chocolate?”
“I think I would know if I was allergic to chocolate.”

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