Helen Keller: Born On Third Plate (Then Ran Back to First)
No, seriously, think about it (I’m speaking to you, hippy-dippy potheads; you’ll understand it better). Let’s all expand our collective consciousness and exercise our imaginations for a brief moment about these historical bitches:
As many of you well know, Helen Keller hit the genetic jackpot of crippling disabilities: deaf, blind, terrible conversationalist, just all around bad person–you just know she was one of those high-school hot bitches that didn’t even look you in the eyes when you tried talking to her, and just paraded down the hallways like she you didn’t even exist her eyes! Then she always looked like she got dressed in the dark but in that dgaf way..clashing colors that actually do match-a little bit on, a little off– totally nailing that early 20th century punk vibe. But that was Helen, just too coo’ for school.
Like, literally….her parents hired her a personal tutor (talk about an ego-blow: snobby cunt to home-schooled dweeb just like that). . Not just any tutor, but one of those “progressive” types…you know the types, the art-school fashion fags that don’t believe in grades and the students design their own course. The tutor was definitely one of those dope-smokers…(Anne Sullivan?!? C’mon, have you ever met a Sully that didn’t dabble in the dank? No, of course not.)
From what I’ve gathered from extensively researching Keller’s life, her teacher designated her a “tactile” learner, because lectures and assigned readings were just too hard for the poor girl, but really, tactile translates into New-Agey mumbo-jumbo for retarded.
Apparently, this meant she spent all her time dodging inanimate objects, bumping into people, and vigorously rubbing walls, carpets, cushions, couches–pretty much anything in her way–like she railed a half g of molly and rolled face for 8 semesters. Eventually, through much stumbling, dodging, bungling, and bumbling, her hide-and-seek skills impressed the admissions officers at one of those super left-wing East Coast liberal arts colleges (Radcliffe).
Here comes the stunner, though: the Radcliffe profs discovered she had a great writing talent, encouraging her to use these alleged talents to advocate for the all fashionably stupid ideas of the time even if they contradicted one another, eventually embracing: radical socialism, tolerance for the disabled, birth control (!), eugenics (!!), and women’s suffrage (!!!!!) She cunningly spun her obvious disadvantages (like, i dunno, seeing the fucking world around you!) as strengths. Although definitely effective as a short-term strategy, it’s ultimately the recipe for civilizational catastrophe in the long run (do we really want a bunch of dumb-deaf-blind-mute bitches running around?!? Oh…well, on second thought….maybe she was onto something).
The most amazing and tragic part of her whole story is that a man, a chump named Mr. John Macy, proposed to her. (I understand tryna hit that once ‘cuz we’ve all wondered what the hell a deaf girl’s orgasm sounds like-she’d either sound like a roaring gorilla or a down-syndrome kid that’s crying and laughing at the same time. But for the rest of your life? She’s blind nigga! I’m not fan of extended eye contact, but if you look at those vacant eyes, i’d get the spooks from thinking she was dead)***. Considering Mr. Macy had no problem marrying this university-educated hussy, dedicated feminist, and Marxist ideologue, this Macy motherfucker either had a sick necrophiliac-esque fetish or this poor dude resembled Quasimodo with a small Super Mario 1-Up mushroom dick.
***Triple-star tangent: this kind makes me think I would never eat out a girl whom has had an abortion. Some mothafuckin fetus died in that haunted house of a snatch, and I ain’t about out to lick that thing out of its ghostly slumber.
Next -Anne Frank: Dumb-Struck Stuck at Third Base, Then Thrown Out by the Nazis