Para

Humph.

No, really, just Humph...

Humphity Dumphity sat on a wall...till I came along and pushed the whingy bastard off...

It's been one of those days, essentially - I'm regaining an ovoid shape, relosing motivation, and watching the hill I eventually have to climb get bigger again before my looking-down-the-length-of-myself eyes. Feels like I'm sliding back down Everest, while knowing, every step of the way, I have to climb right the fuck back up the bugger...

Hence, Humph.

Then again, it's entirely possible that Humph can kiss my increasingly large and hairy white ass, cos let's not forget the Paralympic Games start tonight. The Paralympians just blow my freakin' walking socks off - and not, I hope, in some paternalistic, patronising bullshit way. There are people that have been handed some manner of essential physical 'radical pain in the arse' - for want of a better word than 'disability'. So that's Strike 1. Strike 2 is the rest of us fucks. Cos while we're probably individually all pretty groovy, get us together en masse and we turn into a frightened bunch of lilywhite fucks. How else can you explain the fact that we allow the existence of a transport infrastructure that pretty much says to people with radical pains in the arse - screw you, mate, you wanna get somewhere, ya shoulda been born - and stayed - "normal", like us. How else explain the fact that we don't, en masse call our politicians and our architects and our town planners and our transport chiefs on the bullshit that keeps people who already have a radical pain in the arse from experiencing, with only as little hassle as the rest of us, any damn thing they want to. How else explain that nasty little collective sense of inconvenience and mental finger-pointing you see sometimes on buses when someone with a radical pain in the arse gets on and we all have to shift up a bit or give up our seat. So that's Strike 2 - Strike 2 is us and all the additional unnecessary hassle we give to people who are exactly the same as us in every respect bar one. 

Strike 3 is having a radical pain in the arse, dealing with all the additional bullshit that we as a society, and occasionally, we as individuals, heap on these people, and then thinking "Fuck me, I could just do with a game of basketball right about now." I haven't, I don't think, ever in my life come close to having the kind of commitment and energy it takes to even get to that point. And then Strike 4 is doing all of the above and thinking "I wanna play basketball better than anyone else in the world, man..."

That's Superman. That's Isaac Newton having Einstein's love-children. That's the Green Berets vs the SAS in a grudge-match over who has the coolest fuckin' hats. That's commitment and energy and white-hot goddamn passion for a sport on a level that 98% of us don't put into Being A-Freakin'-Live.

So yeah - maybe...just maybe...I should just quit my bitchin' about having to go on a bit of a diet, and bask in the insane commitment of the Paralympics for a bit.

Yeah, that's a plan.