By Mark E. Smith
I’m writing to let you know that you’ve ushered in a new day in America – at least for me.
It is true that I long lost sleep over you. I confess that you made me question my ideology that no one has a right to judge another’s choice of mobility. I mean, I truly don’t care what type of wheelchairs others use – if it works for them, great. Yet, you, in your lithium-induced haze, were the exception. Truly, I wished myself to sleep at night hoping that I could somehow bring your decadent, swinging soul into the twenty-first century with a modern wheelchair. I mean, really, Larry, why did you insist on using hospital-type wheelchairs for decades when mobility technology has come so far? You’ve made hundreds of millions of dollars exploiting others, so why not put some of that scantily-clad cash toward a good cause like a high-tech wheelchair for yourself?
Yes, I understand that your mind is often occupied with prescription medication, barely-coherent voices ranting about freedom of speech, and ambitions to further your pornographic empire. However, behind your glazed eyes, there must have been some room for consideration of improved mobility for yourself, right? After all, you demonstrated some sort of reasoning in gold plating your 40-year-old hospital-type wheelchair, so you clearly considered your mobility on some level.
But, alas, Larry, you have been redeemed, seen out-and-about in your new wheelchair, a gold-plated ultralight. No, I don’t know how one gold plates an aluminum wheelchair, but damn it looks good with your white, patent leather loafers.
Oh, Larry, aren’t you glad that you finally made the switch to a modern wheelchair, where your bodyguards have an easier time stowing it in your limousine, and where your adult film star dates have an easier time pushing you down the red carpet?
Surely you must. And, Larry, your new ultralight manual wheelchair must be easier for you to propel, too, right? In fact, I can imagine that you have much more energy now throughout the day, no longer struggling to move around the gaudy, red and gold decor that you call an office, with much more energy to do the activities that you most enjoy – like smoking fine cigars while pontificating about pornography.
Enjoy your new wheelchair, Larry – you wild and crazy guy!