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On Being Retarded… November 22, 2005, 2:53 pm

Posted by quintapalus in Television.

There are seldom things as sweet and both mind numbing at the same time as watching VH1’s remember the (insert decade here) series. You get to see how awful and spectacularly awful everything was, and yes, you also get to see some of the stuff that is slightly less than spectacularly awful. I’m not sure if I saw something about a movie where a normal actor (henceforth known as a “normie?) was playing a character who was retarded (henceforth known as a “tard?), but no matter, my conversation with my roommate quickly turned toward that topic and how much I can’t stand the concept. I mean, seriously, what is it with actors where they feel the need to play a character that is either a tard or semi-reformed child molester in order to obtain some sort of “validation? on their acting career. Acting retarded has got to be the easiest thing in the world to do. Trust me, I do it on average about 14 convincing hours a day. Besides, the benchmark in this category is very simple: if Juliette Lewis can do it, anyone can! That chick is the poster child for a self esteem renewal world tour. But seriously, how fricking hard is it to simply look around with big, blank, doey eyes and not move your tongue while you make the sounds that form words of the English language all the while keeping your wrists in a locked position. But enough about Senator Barbara Boxer. Awwwwwww SNAP!!

So how funny would it be if you played the part of a tard so well that a different film maker wanted you to do yet another basic rehash of “tard gets picked on by normies, fights really hard to win their respect, has to do something really drastic like save a normies’ life to finally gain acceptance? version 29. Next thing you know, your agent is getting calls left and right for “tard wants to raise normie baby, why won’t you let me, part MCMXLIX? and “life goes on 3: corky’s revenge?. Holy shit…you’ve been type cast as a tard!!! Well, it’s too late now, your “acting? career is over; you might as well just take the roles and cash the checks. Let’s face it, in the absence of being artistic, getting paid is pretty nice and somewhat mandatory. Of course, nothing could possibly prepare you for what would happen next. People start coming up to you, telling you what an inspiration you are, but then you notice how slow and deliberate they are speaking to you, taking extra care to articulate and use as many monosyllabic words as possible. Nothing could possibly hit harder than this particular moment.

People actually think you are retarded.

Invites start coming in the mail for Special Olympics and Jerry’s kids. Real tards start writing you letters about how you are their favorite “special? person. No, NO! How could this have happened? That’s it, this has got to stop. You grab the nearest microphone to you at the next press event, but before that first word leaves your lips, time freezes. A million images flash before your eyes…regular folks are enraged that they were duped by Hollywood, tard kids everywhere are crying, first because the telletubbies timeslot was moved to their naptime hour, but then because they have been worshipping a “big, fat phony baloney.? In short, more harm than good will come from this. Upon realization of the situation, time restores itself and everyone is silent waiting for your big speech.

And you know what you have to do.

You grab that mic and yell at the top of your lungs “DOOOOOOODIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!?

It’s not easy living the life of a fake retard, but you get by…..one day at a time.



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