However, I vote you don't teach anybody anything about life and keep on swearing like Eminem.

I vote she runs over their toes with her wheelchair. I was in a wheelchair as an adult for the better part of 16 months (car accident, 37 broken bones, plastic now in both ankles and kneecaps) and I got really handy with nailing assholes with the chair. And the best part was, they couldn't hit me. Ha!

Ooh, that too, Deb. Good plan.

The Magical Cripple theory is funny, but I think this particular group was just not a good fit. They would tell me they were writing a sketch for "Reader's Digest" and I'd think "Oh, good one." and then I'd find out they were serious. Right? That kind of thing. But I did stun a carpet layer once, with my story that had an affair in it, instead of the Crip Experience. Cause he knew some chick that painted mosaics with her toes or something and Crip Art is Beautiful. So he *had* to see it.

"I think you'll find this is different than you're expecting(I'd rewritten one of my instructor's stories from the woman's view...my first fic!)
"You need to have more faith in yourself." Everyone tells me how I'm fucked up.
He read it and couldn't leave fast enough.He didn't say another word, either.And I still think Eminem makes me look like a rank amateur.

Crip Art is Beautiful.

True story: when my doc first diagnosed me with depression, he sent me home with samples of Zoloft and a videotape about depression (something like "Living with Depression: Now You Have An Excuse to Wear Black"). On the cover of the videotape were these watercolor paintings of butterflies, or something.

I looked closer, and the caption said "These paintings were painted by an artist with no arms, using her feet to hold the brush, and demonstrate the triumph of the human spirit."

THIS is a good thing to give someone who's severely depressed? Armless Art????

I think I met her. No lie. But yeah, sounds like "So You Think You've Got Problems?" Which I still get. And hear as "blah,blah, India, blah, blah, crushing poverty, blah blah, lack of family support, blah."

OK, tell me you've seen the South Park episode on this exact theme. Literally, Chris Reeve comes to town to raise money and Timmy and the kid who had polio (I've only seen him in the one episode) decide to found a club, to which you can only belong if you were born crippled. They go to have teeshirts made up, and the guy informs them that maybe calling themselves "Crips" isn't the world's best idea, because, see, there's already this other sort of, er, club...

So they go down to meet the other Crips and Shit Very Definitely Happens.

No, I hadn't seen that. I'd remember it. Sounds funny, in a sick way. It was hard to write words like "amputee" and "petit mal" in my stories cause around the Independent Living Center I would probably say "person with seizure issues" or something. But they wouldn't around the squad. Way different standards of talking. And in an ILC, at least ours, nobody says "problem." They say "issue". So and So has mobility issues. How are you doing with your depression issue?

We call 'em 'shoes.' Sometimes hip waders. It's a thing.

erika, my love, this has to be one of the sickest, twistiest, funniest episodes ever, of a show famous for sicky twisty fun. The worst possible taste.

Howlingly funny. I mean, I hurt myself. I pulled a couple of muscles.

You'll love them being told they have to go kill some Bloods if they want to join the Crips, so they go down to the convenience store because they've been told that's where the Bloods hang out - and anyway, they decide to bring back some soda and tasy snack treats for their new friends - and there's an 18-wheeler and it swerves- no, I should shut up. It has to be seen. From top to bottom, it has to be seen.

Do not, repeat, not, watch it with someone who can't deal with you being in a wheelchair. You'll shock them with the wails of outraged laughter.

Yeah. So writing it out made me feel weird, even though Kay and Frank would certainly not think twice about saying those things.I'll have to see that,Deb, even though Mr. Hanky lost me, years ago.