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Cripples are just like you or me.  Sure, God may not answer their prayers, and suicidal thoughts may be their only companions, but other than that, just like you or me.

If you want to get busy with a gimp, you’re still going to have to work for it.  Use a little charm.  If she’s a paraplegic, say something like, “Hey, sexy, I like your chair.  Do those wheels go all the way up?”

Next thing you know you’ll be knocking boots, or whatever the hell it is they’ve put on her little withered feet.

Maybe wheelchairs aren’t your thing.  You like them crazy.  First off, you need to find a place where crazy people congregate.  You could go to church or a Democratic Party meeting, but I have a better idea.  Get a job in a psychiatric hospital.  There are already plenty of beds and drugs there.  Add a little box wine, and you’ve got yourself one hell of a romantic evening.

What’s that?  Still not your thing?  You want to tap a tard?  You sicken me.  Even Mike Codajoy draws the line somewhere.

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