Matthew Paris :: Xiccarph :: View topic - The Disability Game
The Disability Game
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Matthew Paris
 

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Post Fri Jan 30, 2004 7:32 pm - The Disability Game
Look, I know all of you are upset because you all got the dark yellow cards; you were turned down for Disability. Iím not here to make you feel better or console you about having to live without beating the government for a little ice cream money; you have lousy lovers and even worse friends to console you when you get knocked off a money machine. You have all too effective certified enemies to tell you the truth about yourself.
Iím one more midnight horseman riding the juggernaut myself; I have to admit Iím here on salary. You may be a beggar; Iím a lot worse than you. Iím an anaerobe who lives off beggars. My job is to tell you why you got turned down and what you might say on your next application that might make things very different for you, believe me, we donít want to know any of you off the roles.
You and I are locked together like a double sun. The fewer there are of you, the fewer there are of us, the fewer bosses there are, and before you know it we might have a Depression. Thatís why we never check you anymore than every other year. You might be cured, not eligible for our checks. We donít want to know bout that. If you walk, we walk too eventually.
Maybe one day if we walk the whole government walks. Then even the ones check on us and the ones who check on them walk too. Thatís why we have governments along with prison and crime, folks. Nobody can afford to walk. Who knows whatís out there?
Anyway if you donít act as depressed as you look, listen to me; I might be able to help you when that old Santa Claus application time comes around again. Then you have another chance to beat not me, not somebody but something out of a few shekels. Most of you donít realize that being on Disability as you all have been has changed you subtly, some say corrupted you, topers claim itís given you a legitimate place in society. Of course sometimes corruption and legitimacy are the same. Sometimes virtue and being out of jail are.
Take your choice; I donít care. The point is that youíre off and on your own now; to put in very banally, folks, you said the wrong things, you gave the wrong answers, you failed the test. You can't do that again and get on our pad; youíll have to go to work. You donít want life to come to that, do you?
First of all, nobody can get Disability anymore because theyíre generally miserable. We used to accept that standard back when the Democrats ran things; they always thought people should get a few bucks from something or somebody, maybe their mother, when they felt lousy. The Republicans think you should roll in the gutter and drop dead.
Maybe theyíre both wrong; it really doesn't matter. Pure misery without being severely crippled in a way we can verify isnít legitimate many more unless itís certifiable misery, attested to be an equally certifiable expert on feeling lousy. You have to get a letter from a psychiatrist, not just a psychologist, saying youíre not just miserable, not just very miserable, but down and out terminally lethally miserably miserable.
That psychiatrist can't be one of those lemons you pull in from Canada or Mexico either. You can't go to Havana or Calgary anymore and get yourself a note from a veterinarian down on his luck, settling there in the snows to drink himself to death on rotgut corn liquor with an Eskimo squaw on her knees or cooking him some whale fat in the kitchen. You tell us heís some kind of expert on love and death.
These days you can't go to Tiajuana and get some quack with a made up diploma for life experience when heís spent most of his life in solitary confinement. Most of these guys have a real job is patching up some beat up young working woman in erotica with corn plaster when theyíre so blue they wish they were married.
Even if youíve lost a leg or an arm you have to get a certified doctor from the list we have published in the Internet to prove it; anyone of you can read it. If somebody cut off your head you have to show us every six months itís still gone. Yeah, itís true the authorities are all paid off to get on that little scroll, that we all get a cut of their Medicaid payments as well by putting them on the blue chip preferred tier; hey, why not? These days, everybodyís a winner, you are, they are and I am? Itís much worse if we were running a horse race. Weíd have all losers. On Disability when you finished last youíre in the money. Didnít Jesus say something like that?
You depressives canít just be terminally miserable anymore. Weíre all miserable. Some of us feel lousy; weíre still working. By the way you can't prove that youíre uncannily unlucky and itís making you crazy either. People who are losers or crazy winners for that matter donít get anywhere here unless they can bring the goddamn god in thatís bringing them bad or good fortune.
We arenít into metaphysics anymore. If thereís no resident demon whoíll testify he hates you, youĎve got to have a rich cosmic anguish inside you it still has to have specific horrible symptoms even our hack and incompetent doctors can atomize.
We donít accept knee and back problems anymore; anybody can fake that. Even I can fake that. Youíve all done a little heavy deception too in your time, We all do it. Some of us do it for money.
Most of you like me can con people with the old tennis elbow routine too. Thatís older then I am. Earth hasnít got as many tennis courts as you say we do. Stop playing tennis. Take up strip poker.
You phony criminals canít threaten people in banks either, then drool all over yourself and turn incontinent you demand cash from the teller; thatís old stuff. Weíre all Republicans now, folks; it doesnít work anymore. You can't stare at the wall either and say youíre nuts; people will think youíre watching an invisible television set, youíre dead or both. Youíre may be all of these things but you arenít eligible for us.
Nobody will notice you these days even if theyíre an expert much less write you a letter saying youíre crazy. They havenít got the time. Mutual Funds are drying up. You canít start laughing at nothing and get on the pad either. We hire people to do that in America. Thatís money. Thatís how we make laugh tracks; thatís worth something. You start laughing for no reason at all in America, before you know it, folks youíll be on salary.
You can't be delusional either and get a nickel from us unless itís the right delusion. Youíve been very inventive about being bonkers out there, havenít you? You think youíre all Artists. You think a genuine delusion is some kind of creative act like writing exquisite short stories for fey quarterlies. Weíre not interested in science-fiction here, folks. We donít even like mysteries. You can go on the Internet, see our acceptable delusions. There are 782 of them. Some of them are real. Thatís the way it is with delusions.
If you can't find delusion that fits you, you donít belong here. Maybe you should be writing scripts for professional wrestling. I donít care whether or not youíve actually even experienced reality; we have to set some standards here about whatís worth government disability, what isnít. Weíve set them for better or for worse.
If you donít like it, write your Congressman. If you donít know how to write, call your Congressman if you can find him. The first place you should look is Congress. After that he might be anywhere.
If the standards change, get lower or higher, sideways, itís nothing to us; you wonít offend us if you make any criteria disappear. Our salary will stay the same unless we die and can prove it, believe me.
After death, our death or yours, who knows? Thereís probably a job like this somewhere in the Plaides star cluster for intelligent arachnids.
Remember, folks, whatís actually the matter with you if anything is irrelevant. Something got to be wrong in all of us. Weíre all a mess, you know. Your illnesses and defects It should be one day as important to you as it is to us. Believe me, nobodyís perfect, not even me. I know all about you. You donít want to know all about me. Itíll scare you.
You people whoíve been cut off funding for physical problems really make me laugh. You claim you have malfunctions of imaginary organs, an anatomy ever heard of. You make up Latin names like a lunatic out of the Roam empire. Do you think weíre fools just because you talk something like Latin or just incompetently stupid? One of you out there, I can see you in the back in the shadow, claimed Disability last year for losing five limbs human beings donít have. All of you have four limbs and a head. Thatís all. You arenít some kind of mad insect.
You like to claim that you have knee problems as you jump through the window into my office; you talk of back problems as you play the lead in porno movies. You can't fool me. I know what sickness is. I donít know what health is. I donít need to know. I would want to know either. It might make me crazy or depressed.
Last year I was sick myself twice. Iíve also had many friends who are sick. None of you are really sick or you couldnít have made it here; youíre just feeling like a piece of trash like most of us. Maybe you are even worse than garbage. Maybe I am too. So what? Some of us have to be. Otherwise thereís no bottom to the world. Most of the universe is trash. What else are the rest of the planets but big piles of stony garbage? What else is most of your life? Weíre all one with nature, kiddo. Our revenge is that nature is one with us.
A lot of you are aware that our enemies in government, the Department of Ability, is trying to take our old Disability budget away from us. This bummer of an agency thinks the government is out to give money who have skills and can work for it, not the other way around.
They say, what has the Department of Disability done? Done? Weíre don nothing. Weíre supposed to do nothing. Weíre the Department of Disability. If we do something weíre competing with the other departments. We donít want to do that. Weíre all on the same side.
The Ability people are supposed to do something: theyíre the Department of Ability after all. Thereís room in Washington for both of us, isnít there? If they did nothing like us theyíd be the Department of Disability too; we already have one of them run by me. You can't have to Departments of Disability, can you? Well, maybe you can. Who knows?
I hope all of you will notice that weíre signing up people for the marathon and decathlon in the Disability Olympics in the mountains of Bolivia nest week. If youíd like to get tight with us, get legitimately on Disability someday, you better be ready to run the marathon, folks. We need long dystonic runners. Weíre a little short on weight lifters and sprinters. We donít have a really first class long distance high jumper either.
Check out our web site; who knows, if you can jump high enough, folks, if youíre lucky you might get a free trip to Bolivia.
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