'Tarded Thunder

I've been surrounded by mentally challenged people my whole life.

Exhibit A)

My mom was a special education teacher from the time I was 5-9 years old. She taught everyone from the gifted kids (including ya boy) all the way to the kids who stapled their sandwiches together so they wouldn't fall apart. The greatest part about it all is, she taught at my school. So, I would have the distinct pleasure of going to her classroom after dismissal and hanging out with all the special kids. They would do lots of strange shit like laugh angrily, get into wordless arguments and (of course) bang their heads on the walls or tables. The headbanging was the worst. It scared the shit out of me because I just knew one day, Garcia's head would bust open and I would have blood and brains on my Izod before I was eight. This is where I learned to wrestle. On many an afternoon, my mother would leave the classroom for a staff meeting, or to talk to a parent, and I'd be left in the room with Dustin and Garcia, who had some kind of secret alien beef with me. Maybe because I looked like Webster. Now, I don't know how many of you have ever wrestled a kid with Down's Syndrome, but whatever they lack in mental acuity, they make up for in absurd, donkey-like strength. I got picked up and thrown into radiators, my face was drawn on in crayon, and I was stuffed into a cabinet of napkins on one occassion. Eventually, I learned their tricks and got as strong as they did. But I never got as retarded. Retarded was the professional term back then.

My mother was also a coach and chaperone for The Special Olympics. For those of you who don't know, The Special Olympics is a global non-profit that supports and organizes an Olympic-like athletic and sporting gala for the intellectually challenged.

I was usually the towel and water boy there, but on one special occassion I actually competed. I don't really want to get into it now, but if you know me, ask me about it next time you see me. In short, it was the most assholish moment of my life. Moving on..

Exhibit B)

When I was in sixth grade, the town deaf-partially-mute girl with mental disabilities had it bad for me. Her name was Monica. If you have a dishrag, or a few paper towels handy, do me a favor. Stuff the rag or towels in your mouth. Now say the words "Bar, bar, a-bar" but with a Scooby-Doo voice. You have successfully imitated the first female to ever have a crush on me. That was the only sound she could make due to her partial muteness. But she made it loud, and with all the attitude of one of my grown, sassy aunties. She was clever though, don't get it twisted. I'd even go so far as to say she was an intellectual. She just couldn't VOICE it. EVERYTHING she said came out as "Bar, bar, a-bar".

Man, I hated that girl. She used to wrap her lips around the water fountain spout, stand up and let the water drip down her chin. She'd wait by my locker after school and curse me out in her secret language.

But now I'm thankful for Monica. Every woman since her has seemed relatively sane with manageable issues. And words I can understand. Call me an asshole, but she looked a lil bit like

Exhibit C)

My cousin Courtney was born intellectually challenged. He was exceptionally strong and the only thing he would eat was pork n' beans. There's not too much more I can add to that.

Exhibit D)

You might remember in a previous post my mention about a friend named Richard who is responsible for my blindness. Richard had some weird mental illness that made him a little bit slow, but a natural comedian. I never really noticed he was slow until my mom would refer to him as "the slow boy". He had weird cracks in his tongue that made his mouth look like the surface of Mars. I'd hang out at Richard's crib, and we'd have competitions to see who could look at the Sun the longest. He always won through some retarded stroke of luck. If I see him, I will challenge him to a final showdown...I think I have become significantly more retarded over the years of drinking and smoking and various drug uses, so I might have a chance to win now.

That is, IF I can see him.

So I know by now, you're asking where I'm going with all this. It's very simple. Since my youth, I've kept very tight company with the retarded, the mentally disabled, the intellectually challenged, and the handicapped, and as a grown man, aint shit changed. I DJ next to a 'tard three days out of every week.

So I'm sort of an expert in the area of making fun of retarded people without hurting anybody's feelings.

And that's why I will be party to the roasting of my mentally challenged friend Malkovich on Thursday, March 12th. And if you've always wanted to make fun of retarded people, but never had a chance to do it on a microphone, I invite you to join us.

We might never get this chance again.