Now, we say “limited cognitive functioning.” I’m not going to say “intellectual disability.” You don’t get Aristotle and Aquinas jammed down your throat as much as we did and let someone get away with “intellectual disability.” Not without a fight.
Still. Might as well face it. I’m fucking retarded.
I’m watching Captain America. Got no idea what the fuck is going on. It’s like half over, and I still got no idea what’s going on.
I go to the kitchen to pour me a coffee. I pour half a cup right on my dick. Swear to God. I’m not fit to live.
I concentrate on the movie.
He’s like a super soldier. I get that.
It’s almost over. I think he’s still alive. He looks like all the others. Except for that stupid shield.
These Nazis keep chomping on cyanide in this movie. Where the hell do they get that stuff?
I hate being retarded.
I love Grover. You know what I mean. When Grover sees Kermit and says, “Hey, Froggy, Baby!” and comes running up and slugs the nuclear shit out of Kermit right on the back. I like that.
I can relate to that. Crap! I just used the word relate when I meant “understand.” I should be beaten with something made of iron.
I’m going to bed. But I’m going to pray first. Please, Lord, don’t let me wake up. Please let the dogs eat me in my sleep.
Thank you, Lord Jeezus, Amen.
I love you so much. Amen.