It's Hard to Hate a Retard.

It's so true, how can you hate a retard? It's not their fault they don't operate on our superior level of intelligence. It's that same higher standard that constantly has me wondering where my glasses are, where I left my keys, and at other times trying to remember when I showered last. Maybe guys like Gary here have it pretty good. You grab onto a couple of favorite things in life, cling to them like your security blanket and never let go.

A few weeks ago I had a doctors appointment, and as expected, I would have a long wait to get in to see her. In the waiting room was Gary, pictured above. Let me tell you about Gary. Gary drools a lot, that's my first chuckle. Gary also has a fake tattoo on his right arm, or a sea horse...that's a chuckle. Gary also has a black binder with Mylie Cyrus articles, creepy funny. Gary is a huge Mylie Cyrus / Hannah Montana fan. This binder had photos, articles and I may have even seen a lock of her hair, I'm sure the rest of Mylie is safe in Gary's basement. Gary was there with a PSW (Personal Support Worker) that watches over him throughout the day. She went in for a doctor appointment and left Gary with the rest of us.

And so we begin with my Gary tribute. To the man that pulled out a melted half eaten Kit Kat bar from his pocket and ate it with a crooked sideways smile on his face, cheers! To the man that pulled out his photo album/scrap book and looked, and giggled while staring at Mylie Cyrus, cheers! What? You think that's wrong? An older man staring at a teenage heart throb like Hannah Montana? I beg to differ. Gary is working on the level of a ten year old or less. He had velcro shoes, unable to tie his laces, sitting there with a stick on tattoo of a sea horse, I don't believe he's a threat. In fact I would go so far as to say it's puppy love on Gary's part. The last time I had a stick on tattoo was around ten years old, and girls weren't even on my radar yet.

And now for the finale. Gary was finished oggling the photo of Mylie/Hannah Montana and calmy placed the binder down beside him. Slipped his hand into his pocket. Innocent enough for you? Then started rubbing furiously like a contestant on Survivor trying to start a fire. He was definitely into himself, God bless him. The look of horror on a young lady's face in the waiting room was worth my prolonged wait. The assault on his genitals lasted only a mere minute, if that, and if Gary managed to rub one out in that time - good job!'

Gary's assistant came out shortly after this episode of retard/teenage lust and stole Gary from me, out the door. I hope I see Gary again one day, but until then, everytime I see a dog humping someone's leg, I'll think of my friend Gary.