Ephemeron » Guest Authors

In Memory of Dick

Number Six — Mon, 22 Sep 2003 08:50:13 +0000

Throughout the course of our exhaustive research efforts here at Ephemeron.net we often come across dubious sources regarding vice president Dick Cheney’s true whereabouts, a great number of which prove to be forgeries or confused accounts of similarly bald, sneering politician heart patients, and very few of which yield significant, tangible results. While we of course only present to you, the reader, our most reliable findings, there are unfortunately farces being perpetrated by unnamed parties on a constant basis. However, there occasionally comes along a source so seemingly ludicrous to warrant investigation in spite of its potential fictitiousness. Such was the case when the following memorial was anonymously forwarded to me, clipped from the obituaries section of a January 17, 1985 copy of the Talleyville Herald:

Naturally, the first thing of note here is that Dick Cheney has apparently long been deceased, immediately followed with the fact he was done in by none other than a bowling ball. Also of albeit lesser interest are the names of the family members paying tribute to their fallen patriarch, none of whom seem to correlate with Dick’s known relatives, as well as the idea of Mr. Cheney being better recognized by anyone under the name of “Mike.” Obviously, to have deemed this memorial counterfeit without further scrutiny would be unacceptable from the standpoint of any dignified investigative journalist.

I began my quest with a call to Talleyville, Delaware’s Department of Records, placing an inquiry for any information pertaining to families with the surname of Cheney who may at one time have resided in town. With luck I might have been able to locate one of the three individuals to whom the memorial was credited, or at least a death certificate to affirm that Dick “Mike” Cheney had indeed existed. Unfortunately, the effort was without result, and lacking knowledge of possible maiden names or remarriages, the search appeared to be at an abrupt end. It was then I remembered the circumstances of Mike’s untimely demise, and thought to at least check the local bowling alleys before calling off the investigation entirely. Talleyville, Delaware proved a relatively modest hamlet, with only two such establishments to its credit, one of which opened its doors in 1986, a year after the incident took place. Locating the telephone number of the other, Sir Bowl-a-lot’s Palace, I dialed and was soon on the line with Sir Bowl-a-lot himself, Chester Watts, who in a gruff Northeastern vernacular was able to recount a great deal of what took place on that fateful evening of January 4, 1985.

Chester imparted to me that Mike had been a backup member of the Talleyville Steelworks’ bowling team, and had gained his peculiar handle by way of the fact that none of the other employees could remember his real name. Mike, rather than correct them and fade into obscurity, chose to pretend as though it were his true identity. With team captain Ray Strabrowsky sidelined after an ill-fated scalding accident and a game against archrivals from Riverside Plastics Co. in the balance, it was Mike’s hour to shine. The score tied and a game-deciding frame in hand, he approached the lane amid cheers of “Go Mike!” and “Come on, Jim!” wielding his sixteen-pound “Rolling Thunder” and letting loose-only to succeed in two consecutive gutter balls. The precise details of Mike’s subsequent death are sketchy, as no one witnessed it directly, but with his team let down and heading for the bar, he sauntered dejectedly to the ball return, where Rolling Thunder had yet to make its reappearance. In a fit of mindless curiosity Mike stuck his head inside for a closer look, at which point the ball broke free from where it had found itself jammed and, as a result of considerable, built-up pressure, shot forth like a cannonball, crushing the hapless steelworkers’ skull without a moment’s notice. With Mike’s coworkers oblivious to his inexplicable absence, it was left to Chester to discover the grisly scene hours later.

I asked Sir Bowl-a-lot if he had any details regarding Mike’s family, to which he responded that they’d moved away a few years after the tragedy and hadn’t been heard from since. He also noted that the Talleyville Steelworks had burned to the ground a few years after that and hadn’t so much as bothered trying to rebuild. Finally, I asked if he thought Mike paid any semblance to our current vice president, to which he coarsely replied, “No, no. That Mondale guy is just an asshole.” With that, I thanked him for his time and set out to make sense of what I’d just learned.

There is admittedly the chance that this account represents a grand coincidence, but speculation is often necessary for research to demonstrate perceivable results. Consider that in the past there have been countless rumors concerning the possibility of vice president Dick Cheney as a cyborg or bionically-enhanced entity of some sort. Now, if the government were to construct such an artificial being for the purpose of taking political office, would there be any more suitable identity for it to assume than that of an individual who in the eyes of many never existed, and who is likely forgotten or known as someone else entirely by most others? And whatever became of Mike’s family, who ostensibly disappeared from the face of the earth after his death, or his place of employment, which ceased to be soon after? They represent sources of insight now conspicuous by their absence. Are the mysteries surrounding Dick Cheney now closer to being solved, or have they just become far more complicated than ever before?

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Roy Story

Number Six — Thu, 31 Jul 2003 04:05:36 +0000

I awoke the other morning to discover Roy Scheider waiting on my doorstep. Not the actual Roy Scheider, mind you, but a 1:16 scale representation forged in plastic and encased in a synthetic bubble atop an 8″x9.5″ blister card. Yes, that’s right, in spite of all his faults, Roy managed to find himself immortalized as an action figure thanks to his role as Captain Nathan Hale Bridger on the short-lived television drama SeaQuest DSV. That’s something he can tell Gene Hackman and a considerable number of other legitimate action heroes to stick in their pipes and smoke, as it’s a distinction they themselves have failed to earn. How does Roy stack up in the world of action figures, though? Can he establish an entirely new reputation and gain respect amongst his plasticized compatriots? I decided to put action figure Roy to the test.

Here he is. Now, while the hip thing to do these days is to preserve action figures in their original packages for the sake of posterity and value, there is also to consider the fact that this is a piece of Roy Scheider merchandise, and not exactly the sort of long-term investment slated to put one’s child through college years in the future. Sadly, I don’t think even Roy Scheider himself preserved in a box would mean any guaranteed financial return. Anyhow, the action figure wouldn’t be of much use trapped in there, so out he came.

An impressive likeness, I’d say. I’m not so sure about these accessories, however – they seem to have included a number of miscellaneous hunks of plastic posing as scientific equipment in addition to a spring-loaded rocket launcher for the sake of keeping the kids interested. Now, I never really watched SeaQuest when it was on, but I’m relatively certain the show’s premise did not involve Roy toting around heavy artillery, especially heavy artillery that happened to be colored bright yellow. So it would thus appear they’d attempted to compensate for his infamous lack of “attitude” before his figure even hit store shelves. These toymakers didn’t go into things blindly – they had scouted Roy well, and knew there had to be some consolation for the young boy waking up on Christmas morning to find Captain Nathan Hale Bridger under the tree. Just to keep this on an even playing field, I stripped Roy of these meaningless accessories and sent him out to test his interactions with the action figure competition.

Roy first came across a troop of vintage Star Wars action figures. Their meeting began as a civil debate, with Roy taking credit for the first ever summer blockbuster in Jaws, and then Star Wars characters countering that Roy had been riding the outer space craze created by their films in 2010. Unable to refute their claim, Roy quickly turned things into a Pier Six brawl, overwhelming the otherworldly visitors with his slight size advantage and leaving them battered and beaten in his wake. He was unquestionably making a name for himself, but it appeared as though he’d be coming out of this with very few friends.

Roy next stumbled upon He-Man, and, somewhat spiteful at never having been offered the role of a loincloth-clad barbarian himself, thoughtlessly challenged the most powerful man in the universe to compare biceps and prove his qualifications. As might have been expected, Roy was miserably outclassed and retreated in shame to nurse his wounded ego. It’s only fortunate that he hadn’t challenged He-Man to an arm wrestling contest instead.

The consequent sect of toydom Roy found himself in the company of was the generally good-humored Lego people. Regrettably, when they approached to express their fondness for his performance in Sorcerer they were faced with the demoralized actor’s wrath coming out of the He-Man incident. The ease with which he defeated his perpetually smiling and vertically challenged adversaries restored Roy’s confidence, and he vowed from that point on to only pick fights with those who were smaller and weaker than him. His only challenge would be locating others who actually fit the description.

Thinking back to his earlier luck in dealing with the Star Wars characters, Roy returned to the scene of the crime, hoping to dole out a second beating and assure a position of authority in the action figure world. Much to his surprise, however, members of GI Joe had since arrived, and were looking to join forces against the slightly taller threat who had begun to so recklessly exert his might upon the weaker denizens of the land. And, faced with overwhelming odds, Roy did what Roy does best…

Roy ran. Roy ran far away.

So, while scaled down, plastic Roy may have failed to gain the respect he sought to achieve, he certainly served as a testament to authenticity. And although that doesn’t make for an exciting action figure, when you’re dealing with Roy Scheider you really have to take what you can get.

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We’re #1!!!

Number Six — Wed, 30 Jul 2003 06:49:36 +0000

Habitual readers to Ephemeron.net will undoubtedly recognize our continuing efforts to present the most detailed and current news regarding the whereabouts and activities of vice president Dick Cheney, a man otherwise shrouded in mystery and kept steadfastly from the public eye. And now, as testament to our enduring accuracy, whenever an inquiring mind asks a search engine, “Where’s Dick Cheney?” or simply, “Where’s Dick?”, Ephemeron.net* will stand as the foremost result, and, as always, the most reliable. We’d like to thank you for your support in making us the number one source for Dick Cheney updates on the internet.

*Update: This is no longer the case – not even close. It was just rather amusing at the time.

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Looking for Rickey in all the wrong places…

Number Six — Tue, 22 Jul 2003 01:52:21 +0000

Have you ever wondered exactly what the majority of people who visit Ephemeron.net via search engine come here looking for? Is it information regarding the beautiful photographs on our sister site, or the beautiful girl who takes them? Perhaps our reliable, up-to-the-minute news items in respect to the true whereabouts of Dick Cheney? Maybe the final vestige of information for the few remaining Roy Scheider fans? It seems as though these would all be valid answers, but they’re unfortunately wrong. No, the majority of visitors who find us through a search engine come here looking for Rickey Smiley.

Who’s that, you ask? You’ve never even seen any mention of someone by that name on these pages? Well, you might have, had you been keeping an eye on the “Recent Comments” section. You needn’t look too hard – they’re typically the ones characterized by stunted grammar and emphatic requests for complimentary mp3 files.
You see, Rickey Smiley is a comedian known for his prank telephone calls, and he did in fact appear on this blog some seven and a half months ago for a notably limited engagement. Of course, anyone who’s visited here on even a semi-regular basis knows it isn’t exactly the place to come seeking out further samples of Smiley’s material. And yet, despite the fact that the one file offered was removed some time ago, there still appear regular requests for more to this day, with replies directing people to his official website and shameless begging from Rickey himself seemingly having no effect whatsoever. In fact, I’m sure this particular entry won’t do the least to deter the constant appeals, and I’m really only writing it to draw attention to the humorous nature of the situation.

Smiley himself is somewhat to blame, however. Anybody performing a search and misspelling his name as “Ricky,” a mistake probably to be anticipated, will be led to an official site that doesn’t exist. Apparently Smiley’s publicist couldn’t figure it out, either. And when rickysmiley.com failed, one of the next best things was Ephemeron.net. Clearly, what Rickey needs to do is cut his losses and make his name easier to spell, especially for those amongst his fan base who seemed to be having considerable difficulty typing out so much as “hello.”

Rickey Smiley’s real site, for one last time, is http://www.rickeysmiley.com.

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The Best Worst Song Ever

Number Six — Mon, 21 Jul 2003 00:07:19 +0000

In possessing a thorough and eclectic music collection one will inevitably come across any given number of songs generally held in high disregard by the general public. Being an individual whose Winamp playlist is occasionally graced by the likes of Glen Campbell, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and the Starland Vocal Band, I should know this fact better than most people. Even if they are considered infamously bad, however, there’s something about the absurdity of these songs that appeals to me.

One particular number that’s been a sporadic addition to my list for quite a few years now is Richard Harris’ MacArthur Park. Written by Jimmy Webb and first released in 1968 as part of the album A Tramp Shining, MacArthur Park is judged by many to be the absolute worst song ever recorded. MacArthur Park has also found its place as the grand epitome of nonsensical lyrics, which, when combined with high-pitched wailing and garish composition, had for years left thousands of radio listeners scratching their heads wondering exactly what they’d just heard. It thus comes as no surprise that Richard Harris – the same Richard Harris best known by modern movie audiences for his roles in Gladiator and the Harry Potter series – had gradually downplayed any connection to the song up through his death in 2002.
Which is too bad, since MacArthur Park was unquestionably his greatest accomplishment. Really, though – any song capable of eliciting a reaction like it did truly justifies its own appeal.

Plainly stated, MacArthur Park is an allegory for one man’s bittersweet recollection of and regret over an irretrievably lost love affair. How exactly the following lyrics illustrate that concept is probably best left to the imagination.

MacArthur Park – Richard Harris

Spring was never waiting for us, girl
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance
Between the parted pages and were pressed
In love’s hot, fevered iron
Like a striped pair of pants

MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground around your knees
The birds, like tender babies in your hands
And the old men playing checkers by the trees

[break]

There will be another song for me
For I will sing it
There will be another dream for me
Someone will bring it

I will drink the wine while it is warm
And never let you catch me looking at the sun
And after all the loves of my life
After all the loves of my life
You’ll still be the one

I will take my life into my hands and I will use it
I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it
I will have the things that I desire
And my passion flow like rivers through the sky
And after all the loves of my life
After all the loves of my life
I’ll be thinking of you
And wondering why

[extended break]

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Hot on his trail?

Number Six — Sat, 19 Jul 2003 08:06:36 +0000

After the shocking discovery last week of Dick Cheney having left his political duties in the hands of downtrodden actor Roy Scheider, I found myself naturally more than a little curious to know exactly where the vice president really was, and I finally received some insight into just that after being sent the memo below by an anonymous source. It may not specifically reveal his “undisclosed location,” but it certainly offers us an idea of what he’s been up to, and perhaps of why he hasn’t been invited to many social functions as of late.

Click to view larger.

To: All Trader Vic’s Branch Managers
From: Lynn Bergeron, CEO, Trader Vic’s Restaurant Company
Date: 7/13/03

Re: Trouble with Mr. Cheney

It has recently come to my attention that we possess amongst our loyal customers a certain prominent politician and frequent world traveler by the name of Dick Cheney. Although Mr. Cheney’s patronage is unquestionably a testament to the persevering quality of our product, his presence unfortunately creates a number of adverse complications. Mr. Cheney possesses and obsessive fondness for our trademark piña coladas, and in his inebriated states he has a tendency to display notably destructive behavior, including but not limited to feral rages, the tossing of furniture, thorough use of profanity, and the occasional isolated blaze. Please keep in mind that we do not wish to eject Mr. Cheney from our establishments, for the catastrophes he presently invokes would be nothing in comparison to those which might occur were this company on his bad side. Instead, the purpose of this memo is to offer some helpful advice regarding damage control and minimizing losses incurred as the consequence of any aforementioned destructive behavior, in hopes that we might preserve our relationship with this customer as well as our lives.

1. Always avoid making eye contact when approaching the subject; address him in a calm manner and as “Mr. Vice President” (this applies to international branches also, as Mr. Cheney seems to hold little concept of location).

2. Play along with any delusions Mr. Cheney might currently be experiencing, such as claims of werewolfism or bionic superpowers, but politely decline any proposed demonstration of “eye lasers” or “hidden cruise missiles.”

3. Do NOT garnish Mr. Cheney’s drinks with the “pink” variety of miniature paper parasols.

4. Should Mr. Cheney at any point suddenly shout “WHERE’S THE HULA GIRLS?”, reassure him that they’ll be making their entrance soon. Of course, Trader Vic’s traditionally does not offer “hula girls,” so you may be forced to improvise in the event that Mr. Cheney is adamant in seeing them.

5. If Mr. Cheney is to lose consciousness at any time, refrain from attempting to disturb or wake him, as at this stage the darkly-dressed individuals who generally trail him from afar will move in to perform the extrication and pay his bill.

Should you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to contact the Trader Vic’s management hotline.

Sincerely,

Lynn Bergeron, CEO, Trader Vic’s Restaurant Company

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That’s not Dick Cheney!

Number Six — Sat, 12 Jul 2003 07:15:19 +0000

I took note of something fishy during a recent episode of CBS News’ Face the Nation, and it wasn’t the fact that I’d been watching with the television off and while in another room, as is typically the case. The guest for that day had been advertised as Dick Cheney, the key word being “advertised,” as while the individual ultimately interviewed may have paid some resemblance, it was certainly not him. Take a look at the photo below, and see if you can discern anything strange about it.

Why, it’s Roy Scheider, whose brief and unsuccessful career as a big screen action hero we somewhat ironically chronicled just a few days ago! So that’s what he’s been up to as of late. The bald cap and lackluster makeup job aren’t fooling anyone, Roy. Still, the question begs to be asked: Where’s the real Dick Cheney, and why has he left a second-rate actor to pose as vice president in his stead? I’m afraid this revelation unfortunately creates more controversy than it resolves.

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The Action Hero Who Never Was

Number Six — Thu, 10 Jul 2003 04:07:50 +0000

A few months ago we looked at one of the greatest figures in the history of cinema, and today we’re going to take a look at possibly one of the lamest. He’s Roy Scheider, the badass, tough guy action hero who never was. It’s not that he never received a big break; it’s just that he managed to severely screw up every one he got. Somewhere along the line this lanky, awkward guy with his goofy name decided that people would accept him as a gritty leading man, but by the time things were all said and done it was difficult to take him seriously as any sort of character.

One of Roy’s first chances to establish himself as an effective protagonist came in The French Connection, where he unfortunately found the cards stacked against him from the beginning. Whereas a man of his demeanor would have done best being coddled into the role, he was instead cast second fiddle to an angry Gene Hackman, who was equipped with his own nonsensical catchphrases. Also, Roy’s badass cop nickname in the film was “Cloudy,” one that didn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts of criminals anywhere. It turned out to be a moot point, anyway, as he spent most of the time in the background while Hackman wore a funny hat and asked perps if they’d been picking their feet. It seemed that the writers had all but forgotten “Cloudy” was even part of the script by the time of the final scene.

It appeared to be over for Roy as quickly as it had begun, but he somehow managed to find himself cast in a similar role once more, this time as the lead in 1973′s The Seven-Ups. He must have jumped at the opportunity, but, in retrospect, it may not have been the wisest decision to rush to find one’s self associated with a beverage not far removed from carbonated water. He could’ve at least lobbied to have the title changed to pertain to a slightly more potent soft drink, such as Moxie or Royal Crown, but instead his timidity turned the situation against him. Later, driving a magic car that transformed from a Ventura into a GTO and back again during the film’s climactic chase scene, Roy managed to foul things up further, ramming the enchanted automobile into a semi and allowing the villain to make an easy escape. Would Eastwood have wrecked a magic car? Would McQueen or Bronson have wrecked a magic car? Hell, even Jimmy Stewart probably wouldn’t have wrecked a magic car, and, if he did, he’d most likely get out and continue the chase on foot. What did Roy do? He threw a fit and gave up, causing the otherwise exciting sequence to fizzle at a greater rate than the beverage the film was named after.

Moviemakers were unquestionably reluctant to try to make Roy seem imposing from that point on, as his next role came as the apprehensive Chief Brody in Jaws, one that ironically fit him like a glove. Finally he was able to showcase his talents of bellyaching, seasickness, and general inaptitude. This also meant, however, that Roy’s chances for making Brody into a badass cop were even slimmer than usual, as throughout the course of the plot he winds up being berated and pushed around by mourning housewives, kids with cardboard fins tied to their backs, and a guy in a powder blue ‘anchor-print’ business suit. Getting out on a boat with a gargantuan, man-eating shark lurking around would have to be infinitely preferable to being made a mockery of by obnoxious townspeople. Sadly, Roy neglects to take into account how he’s going to look when compared with his company, and when Richard Dreyfuss has more scars to show off at the dinner table than you do, you know you’re in trouble.

Roy got one last chance to look tough playing super spy “Doc” Levy in 1976′s Marathon Man, and was actually doing a decent job of it for the time he lasted. Sadly, “Doc” is killed by a geriatric Nazi dentist before the film is even halfway over, a somber but somehow appropriate end to Roy’s career as an action hero. There were glimpses of Roy’s broken aspirations in a few of his later productions, but he was mostly relegated to roles more his speed, such as the Captain on an underwater rip-off of Star Trek or a guy named “Fred.” Which, of course, is what he should have been aiming for all along.

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The Pirate Primer

Number Six — Mon, 23 Jun 2003 08:00:13 +0000

Are you finding yourself fed up with your dull and monotonous occupation? Do you long to sail the high seas, living a life of peril and adventure? Why not become a pirate? What’s that you say? There aren’t any more such things as pirates? Nonsense! Pirates are alive and well in today’s society, and even you, the average individual, can aspire to become one. All you need do is follow the simple steps detailed in this official Pirate Primer and you’ll be on your way to the hallowed annals of infamy in no time! We, of course, assume no responsibility for any personal injury or failure to become a pirate incurred as the result of this primer, but that’s just a risk you’re going to have to take. That’s peril!

The first step is to get yourself a pirate name and have yours legally changed. In that there are only so many possible results to this quiz, we’re probably going to end up with a few like-named pirates, but that’s okay. Pirates are very traditionally inbred, and, if that excuse doesn’t work for you, you can always just call it an “homage.”

Download this* pirate theme song and come to know it by heart. It is a true anthem of what piracy is all about. It also happens to be pirated** music, so it’s doubly appropriate.

Go here and purchase a “deluxe” pirate costume. You’ll be wearing this for the remainder of your time on earth. Make sure you get the deluxe, as only it includes a keen hat and “boot tops.” Disregard the enticement to purchase a “French king wig,” however. Pirates have no need of such things!

Visit the nearest pet shop and purchase yourself a parrot. If you don’t have enough for the parrot after buying your pirate costume, buy two parakeets, stack them on top of one another, and hope no one notices the difference.

Next, you’ll need to part with a vital portion of your anatomy. Consult a friend as far as relieving you of an eye, hand or leg that might be replaced with a fashionable patch, hook, or wooden peg respectively. Resist the urge to overdo things, especially in regards to taking two of a kind, and be sure to have plenty of ‘Bactine’ handy. If you work around heavy machinery for a living, “accidents” of this sort can be arranged that your employer will pay you for. This is called extortion, which, if you’ll remember from the song, is an accredited pirate activity. You’re making progress already, arrr!

Speaking of which, you’ll now need to include “arrr!” in each and every sentence. In addition to that, you’ll need to begin acclimating yourself to the use of the following terms:

Mizzenmast
Keelhaul
Bilge Rat
Brazen Witch
Swabbie
Larboard

You need not know what they mean, as no pirate really does, but you’ll be expected to make thorough use of them in order to be viewed as legitimate. Just work them in randomly.

Now it’s time to acquire a vessel. Since every aspiring pirate wishes to be captain, resist the urge to join up, even if it means having to start small. A one-man inflatable raft should suffice at first, as pirates have no time to dabble in loans and pricing plans that might be necessary for the purchase of a larger ship. These can easily be attained from small children, whom your very appearance should strike fear into the hearts of. This, again, is where having purchased the deluxe costume pays off. Paddle out and hijack a rowboat or similarly-sized craft, working your way up from there. Just be sure not to attempt to commandeer the boats of fellow student pirates, as blood feuds are to be saved for later in your career.

The former owners of the ship you’ve overtaken can either be thrown overboard or trained to become your pirate crew. It’s up to you to judge their potential, as you should be developing an eye for talent by this point. Under no circumstances should they be given your old vessel and allowed to go free, however. In fact, make absolutely certain that your previous craft winds up sinking to the ocean floor, all while you shout “Arrr, to Davey Jones with ye’!” You’ll just look more impressive that way.

And now, it’s up to you to make your legacy, burying things and marking them with indiscreet X’s, arranging traps and deadly curses to protect said X’s, and inexplicably fabricating tattered maps to lead everyone there regardless. It’s a pirate’s life for you!

*Right click and save.
**Not really!

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From Bill’s Pulpit

Bill — Thu, 24 Apr 2003 01:02:29 +0000

RETARDED
SYLLABICATION: re·tard·ed
ADJECTIVE: 1. Often Offensive Affected with mental retardation
2. Occurring or developing later than desired or expected; delayed.
Source : American Heritage® Dictionary

I overheard a conversation this weekend and it featured a very bad word to me.

Retarded. I can’t stand that word. I am dismayed that is has shown up in our slang once again. I have been hearing it a lot lately. It makes me cringe. The definition above from American Heritage labels it right off as Often Offensive and to me it is highly offensive.

I don’t pretend to think that everyone will suddenly stop calling things “retarded” after reading this. And yes, I will continue to cringe when I hear it. But maybe when searching for and adjective to describe a thing, person, or situation, if one person bypasses this one I will be happy.

It bothers me to hear the word retarded used to describe things. The things that are being described are not retarded. They are things. To me there is nothing that is retarded. There are people who suffer from mental retardation. And these people try to live life with disadvantages that those of us who do not suffer from mentally retardation can’t fully appreciate. Disadvantages that are furthered because they are thought of as second class citizens by many. Some of them succeed in life. And some do not. But they all try. What else can they do?

I have been a coach for my local chapter of the Special Olympics for the past 7 years. The Special Olympics provides year round athletic training and competition for people with Mental Retardation. I have spent a lot of time with people with mental retardation in those 7 years. I have gotten to know them. I have come to see what is means to be “retarded”. I have seen these people struggle to get concepts that we take for granted. I have seen people who have been institutionalized their whole lives and don’t even know how to shower themselves. I have taught people to shave for the first time in their lives. Neglect runs rampant amongst these people. Not that they don’t want to take care of themselves but many times it is assumed they can’t. “They are retarded. They can’t do it,” is a common thought. But, in most cases, they can!!!! They want to. They just need someone to help them.

And they are aware. Even when it seems they are not because of their disability. They know what’s going on around them. They hear what you say. They know what you mean. I’ve seen idiots cut on these people right in front of them thinking they didn’t understand because they can’t or don’t choose to speak and then seeing the hurt in the eyes of the mentally retarded person because they understood.

And it is not just the mental retardation these people have to deal with. The conditions that cause their mental retardation also come with a variety of health problems as well. I’ve seen Alzheimer’s disease come and claim these people far before their time. I have watched while uncontrollable seizures wrack these people’s bodies. I known a person whose heart valve was so bad that it literally disintegrated when the surgeon removed it to replace it.

There is one word that kept appearing in the couple of paragraphs above. People. Those with mental retardation are people. They go through the same range of human emotions that people without mental retardation do. They experience both the good emotions and the bad. A common myth about these people is that they are “so open and honest”. That is ridiculous. Yes, they do tend to be brutally honest, at times. But at others, these people lie, cheat, steal, and manipulate like champions. Give some of them a chance and they will use their “situation” to get what they want.

What makes them appear open is they tend to wear their emotions on their sleeves. Typically, you know where you stand with them emotionally. And the emotions tend to be strong and intense. I’ve seen joy expressed that made my heart soar. I’ve seen fury unleashed that made step back in fear. I’ve seen them be as devious as a rogue. I’ve seen disappointment and sadness that makes my heart break. I’ve seen funny things happen that leave my sides hurting from laughing so hard. I’ve seen lust that makes me want to get a hose. And I have seen unbounded love given freely and completely that makes me feel blessed.

Love. That is what it all comes down to. Love. That’s what these people really want. To love and be loved in return. But isn’t that what we all want. I know I do. I’m lucky and I have people around me who love me. And I hope you do too. Some of these people don’t. And they want it so desperately. As much as I am liked as a coach and teacher, I firmly believe I am valued as a friend by them, more highly.

I do love the people I work with. It’s just like any other group of people. No two are the same. Some I am especially fond of. Some get on my nerves. Others constantly amaze me. Still others get themselves in the silliest predicaments. But they all have a place in my heart. And yes, they can’t always do the same things I can do. And yes, sometimes they do things better than I do. They suffer from mental retardation but they are not retarded. They are people.

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Just Another Story With No Point