As a gimp, you know, a drooley/cripple/quadriplegic, people always ask me what it’s like to be disabled. So, I thought I’d expound upon the experience.
The first thing when explaining a foreign situation to someone is to put shit into perspective. Here’s the perspective…
The most profoundly tragic loss when I broke my neck was not the loss of independence, not the death of my athletic ability, or even the loss of control of basic body functions.
The truly most profound tragedy was the loss of the ability to masturbate.
Oh, you more sensitive types are rolling your eyes and saying “What does masturbation have to do with your disability?” Only two people would respond in this way; the hermaphrodites who can fuck themselves, and women.
Now let me expound upon the true tragedy of my plight. I’m a guy, and as such I require four basic necessities for daily survival; food, beer, oxygen, sexual release. That’s it, that’s the list. For the last sixteen years I’ve been cruelly deprived of a basic element of maledom, the ability to pleasure one’s self when the need arises. And arise it does…a lot.
There comes a point in every male’s life when you realize spanking your monkey is fun, and cathartic. The first time a guy rubs one out is a momentous occasion, the type of event that warrants a parade and fireworks. You feel ashamed at first, especially when you’re eventually caught by a parental unit. But after a few months you realize your completing the circle of life, partaking in a ritual that has been repeated for time in memoriam. I bet those cavemen were spanking fools.
The Catholics have it all wrong…masturbation should be exalted, not vilified. EVERY guy has done it, from the Pope right on down to the pubescent alter boy. I bet Christ Himself jerked a load. The man was knee deep sheppards’ daughters, not to mention that tramp Mary Magdalene. Can you imagine being buns up and receiving a frosty load from the King of Kings? I bet his spooge had healing properties, but alas, I digress.
Now picture the world of the future. A medium exists where every conceivable type of smut is available at your fingertips. In the early to mid 90’s a little communication device changed forever the way we males beat our meat. The Internet brought a universe of porn to our desks. It was Sharia, Nirvana, Moksha, Elysium, Asgard/Valhalla, and Utopia all wrapped into one well lubricated fist. The avenue to consumption of mass quantities of porn was finally open. I had achieved universal masturbatory consciousness.
I had dreams about this shit in high school. I would lay awake at night pondering an existence where I could view lesbians with strap-ons drilling the bejesus out of each other. And I could view it anytime I wanted in the privacy of a locked room. And it was free.
Imagine having your wildest dreams of childhood come to fruition. Your six and under the tree at Christmas was a mound of presents, every toy you’d ever thought of, and you want more than anything to open them, but you are fooled by a sadistic mirage. The tree stands barren as the last vestiges of your innocence are sucked into a black hole of despair.
Such was my plight on September 24, 1996. This was the day I was to get high-speed internet access. I was excited, just plain giddy with excitement. The cable guy couldn’t leave fast enough for me. I said my goodbyes and bellied up to my computer for hours of salacious entertainment. Then reality hit me in the face. I paused, looked down at the stick of driftwood that passes for my penis, and I wept. I had finally known deep sorrow, the kind few will know.
Now, every guy reading this, at least the ones in possession of a soul, are like, “Sorry man, that sucks”. You women are asking yourself, “What’s the big deal ya perv?”
Let me put this into perspective, channel the spirit of my foremothers, and let you catch a glimpse of my daily life.
Imagine you own a 100,000 square foot house. In it are thousands of rooms, more rooms than you could possibly visit in a lifetime. In these rooms are every conceivable type of shoe and chocolate ever devised. You have shoes from the Orient, ancient Egypt, and modern-day Hollywood, chocolates from Switzerland, Germany, Italy, and Hershey, Pennsylvania. You can lay in an alabaster tub full of Prada and Godiva chocolates. You’ve had fantasies about this very experience since you were a wee girl. The house is yours, you can visit whichever room you choose anytime you want, no one is watching, and it’s all free. Then you realize you have no mouth or feet.
Welcome to my world y’all. Who will weep for this little boy lost?
