Ironically, handicap parking is crippling our society.
I understand the spirit behind handicap spaces, but just like Tyler Perry movies, somewhere along the line many years ago they got way out of control. There isn’t a parking lot in America without an empty handicap parking space right this second. When a small store has only two parking spaces out front, one of them is eternally empty because it’s reserved for handicap parking. They’re literally right next to eachother, what’s the goddamn difference?
There’s not enough handicapped people in the whole handicapped world to justify this many parking spaces. If every handicapped muthafucka in the U.S. went on a simultaneous road trip, like the most depressing Sturgis Rally ever, they still couldn’t possibly come close to filling them all. Think about it, when’s the last time you saw a one-legged dude hop his ass out of a car? Or you pulled up next to one of those space-age wheelchair cars that quadriplegics can drive robotically? But on the other hand, when’s the last time you went somewhere to find a plethora of empty handicap parking spaces? How about every fuckin time ever.
The most enraging thing of all is that the vast majority of the time, unlike those that truly need it, the so-called handicapped people occupying the prime parking lot real estate are only allowed to do so because they’re giant fat-asses. That’s right, being over three-hundred pounds technically qualifies you for disability. All you’re doing with that is getting the blubbery bastards even closer to the grocery store so they have to walk as little as possible. Every time I see one of those lumpy monstrosities piled on top of the motorized scooters at WalMart, I have an uncontrollable urge to sprint to the baseball bat section and come back swinging. Can you imagine this shit? These rotund lumps of worthlessness go on disability and get a check, then park as close as fattily possible to WalMart in order to shorten their time spent grossly lumbering to the nearest scooter to do what? Shop for more fuckin disgusting junk food with the very money they get for disability! It’s a donut-shaped cycle of despair, with taxpayers fattening the wallets of the morbidly obese so they can keep fattening their stomachs.
With this in mind I was late covering a game the other night, and during several spaceless trips around the parking lot I kept passing an open handicapped one, mocking me. What a dilemma. I’ve always hated the plague of these useless things, but truth be told, I’ve never actually crossed the blue line and parked in one. Finally I said, “Fuck this,” and pulled in.
I experienced one of life’s great joys when I came back out to find that nothing had happened. Regardless of the game I was covering, the true final score of the night was Mulligan: 1, handicapped people: 0.