We're living in some harrowing times these days. Blacks are just about free and clear of prejudice, and gays are only about twenty years away from waning discrimination, at which point love between one human being and another will be seen as the most universal and harmonizing emotion on the face of this Earth.

I know, I too awake most mornings quivering with rage just thinking about it, but I guarantee you they'll have the right to hold hands and show other signs of affection towards each other in public places. Although still some way off, we must prepare for such an eventuality; the hatred has to go somewhere, right?

So that leaves us with one burning question: Who do we pick on next, midgets, mongoloids, invalids, or people with cancer?


Well, the pluses are fairly obvious: they have funny little scrunched-up faces.

Down's Syndrome boy in Home Alone movie

I would advise steering clear of the fully developed ones as they often have the strength of an adult lion. You don't want that kind of mess on your hands—once they commence "their process," it takes their coach or "special attendant" at least several minutes to calm the enraged, over-reacting baboon down, and who knows what state you'll be in by then.

The good thing is that they're oblivious to the use of language. Their little squinty eyes are the most common indication that they have no clue as to your mocking them for their special needs curly straws or explanation for why they can drink Dr. Pepper quite comfortably through the nostrils.

Trust me, one mongoloid can provide hours of entertainment, whether with friends or alone. You can pitch softballs (no harder than tennis balls—more bang for your buck) at their heads and they will keep snorting up that fizzy soda like they've just found a new best friend, proving that there is some happiness out there to which you cannot award a monetary value.

Boy with Down Syndrome
Unless it's the cost of a plunger.

And here's the corker: that smile that says they're having fun, when really you know it's you having the most fun at their expense. It's a mixture of heart-warming and utmost reward as a means of consoling yourself, knowing that both you and the retarded little spaz are getting the maximum out of the exchange. It's like a dog you refuse to feed until midnight because the wife gave you shit for not taking the garbage out, yet the ever faithful eyes that look up at you despite your being an absolute shithead.


Midgets are small, so locating one is the first issue. Might I suggest some bread and cheese on a string? They're totally all about that shit. Because of their stature, midgets will literally fit into anything! And have you ever seen one in regular household attire? Try an apron, shower hat, and toilet brush—trust me, the sight of it, if legal, will find its way to the top of every dying kid's Make-a-Wish Foundation list. IT'S THAT FUNNY.

The bad thing about midgets is that you won't have the complete ignorant thing going on—they know what you're doing and they understand what you're saying. The best part though is that they can't fucking run after you or get to the nearest police station to report you because your gait is literally the length of their entire body. You'll be miles gone by the time you've worked their patience down to such a degree that they feel compelled to report a "violation of their rights." Plus, their fingers are all stumpy and shit; THEY CAN'T USE FUCKING PHONES!

Blackberry Magic Briefcase feature
Good luck, you fucking FREAK!

This here is a freebie in many ways, in that there are no consequences unless you're unsmart about it. As stated, you will have to run away if you push them too far (unless it's so far they fall over, in which case it'll be like a turtle on its back; go get a stick man!), and they know when they're being abused and might just stick up for themselves. Definitely not something we can plan for, despairingly.

On the most fortuitous of occasions, you'll get one who's suffered far too much abuse that day only to temporarily give up on life, downcast and shoulders aslump. These are the gems of the little people society. It's like interacting with The Station Agent. I would urge you to scout this type out for the once in a lifetime opportunity to star alongside Peter Dinklage in a role I'm certain would have won him Oscars for best performance were we able to see his fucking face.

Peter Dinklage, star of The Station Agent movie
Th… They have tiny fucking faces as well, right?


Because of the drain on society's finances to make everything "accessible"—the area invalids occupy in supermarkets and restaurants where most of us go to unwind, AND how long buses are fucking delayed to wheel them out and down onto the curb—you're guaranteed to get at least several other people to fight for your cause provided they are equally irate with the same goddamn fucking shit everywhere I go.

This will of course facilitate things for you. You can have spotters for the police, a nearby GP who can provide advice on how to minimize bruising (all the better if it goes to court), and maybe even a boisterous enough crowd to lift the crippled bugger out of his chair, at which point you're free to kick him while he's down (he'll often be covering his face with his hands because he values the parts of his body that still have feeling). Alternatively, you could also take his wheels out for a spin around aisle six.

Old man doing a wheelie on a motorized scooter
I'm sorry, did somebody say CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY OF THE FUCKING YEAR?!

Most people in wheelchairs will argue that they are independent, able to get around on their own free will, but despite this, beware of the few who have caregivers. This is especially true of old folks who either have a relative with them or someone working for the home they've just wheeled their sorry, invalidated asses out of. Such people are prone to call the authorities before you can even get one solid punch in, so be sure to swat up on your intel before caving in to the urge.

The pots of gold are usually people with wasting diseases, as they rarely have the financial backing to buy one of those fancy speaking gadgety thingies to convey messages (they've exhausted their budget over a lifetime of trying to stop their fucking bones from shrinking). Any caregiver they can afford will be too preoccupied selecting a suitable brand of incontinence pants—both low-priced and retentive—to notice a quick spit into the chair of whichever burden to their goodwill is paying their salaries. So the cripples have no means of communicating the offense. It's literally a victimless crime.

Stephen Hawking in a wheelchair teaching
You literally have offered nothing to our society.

People with Cancer

I would leave these people alone because years down the line, this could be you, and then where's the fun? If anything it'll just make you more miserable. Although statistically you could also become a cripple, realistically the chances are so meager that there's no point worrying about it. The odds of being a black, gay, Down's baby, or midget all come down to genetics, so if none of these things apply to you already, you're in the clear, my friend. But with cancer victims, well, best not tempt fate and risk finding out what it's like to be on the receiving end, eh.

Tobey Macguire smirking
Although putting diuretics in their drip does sure sound like mighty amusing to me.

The Face-Off

Depending on which part of the article you laughed at most (you may have laughed at none of it…cunt!), start building up your natural affinity towards discrimination against those altogether more unfortunate than you, if only they could stop being so happy despite their obvious, retarded shortcomings.

Build up that resentment, set up posters of Willow in your room, and stare intently while repeatedly hitting yourself in the head. Or watch the not-too-PC but just PC enough retardo-brother in There's Something About Mary fucking up Ben Stiller's shit and stopping him from getting pussy due to the need for constant fucking attention. Mongoes (mongos?—who gives a shit, we're discriminating here! Mong-nose, amirite?) are stopping you from getting laid, motherfucker, use it to your advantage. Stephen Hawking. He's a smart cunt, ‘in‘ie?

Might I suggest for added comedic value setting up a game show to decide their fate? Give the midget a sword too heavy to carry (or maybe something high-powered and with projectile ammunition, likely to send him flying backwards); give the mongoloid a grenade designed like a Rubix cube; and take away the invalid's chair, replacing it with a survival knife (he'll require hands to move about, so he will depend on his jaw muscles to wield the blade). Supply each of them just enough water and rations to last a fortnight, then dump them off in the jungle.

Predators movie poster
It will literally be this film.

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