Midgets: The world’s funniest creatures.
There are certain things in life that I can unequivocally state, without a millisecond of hesitation, to be true. And one of those truisms is that there is nothing funnier in this world than midgets. I’m a midget aficionado. Granted, it’s not the most conventional thing to be an ardent fan of; some people are car enthusiasts, others are devotees of particular forms of music. I happen to love midgets. I adore the hilarious little freaks, and they’re a constant source of hilarity for my twisted mind. Seinfeld? Cheers? Pah-give me Gary Coleman or Weng Weng any time!
One thing I’ve never understood is why, in today’s disgustingly politically correct society, some have tried to deem the word ‘midget’ as offensive. These are the same mongoloids that demand black people in the United States are known as ‘African Americans’ (even if they’re of Jamaican descent), deaf people as ‘hearing impaired’ and Islamic terrorists as ‘Misunderstood explosive enthusiasts’.
I’m surprised they haven’t started calling midgets ‘vertically challenged’. The alternatives aren’t much better though. Apparently the preferred nomenclature is ‘dwarf’. Well excuse me for not realizing we were in a fucking Lord of the Rings novel. Where’s Gandalf, maybe he can magically conjure me up a shotgun so I can swiftly blast an aperture into these PC fuckwits whining faces. Then there’s the marvelously self-explanatory ‘Little People’. Of course, that isn’t condescending at all, is it?
“This is Michael, he’s a little person.”
“Thanks for informing me of the appropriate categorization so that I don’t accidentally spew any hate speech! I had no idea that he was actually a little person, despite the fact that he needs a stepladder to use a urinal and his eye-line roughly matches my sweaty ballsack. But that’s really cleared things up! Oh look, there’s Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Is he a big person?”
Anyway, regardless of the first amendment-hating simpletons, midgets are my favourite source of comedy on the planet. There’s nothing more amusing than watching a midget scurrying along as fast as his little feet will take him, getting up to all kinds of diminutive hijinks. Whenever I see one in the street, I stop and guffaw, and they appreciate the love.
It’s always been my primary goal in life to one day have my own midget sidekick. I’d dress it up in truncated versions of my clothing and teach it how to talk, like a real life Mini Me. I would take him for walks (on a tight leash of course), while as he does his number 2 behind a tree I could ask him the most pertinent questions, such as Do midgets find other midgets attractive? and If a midget impregnates a normal, will the child be a midget or normal-sized? Perhaps somewhere in the middle, like Danny De Vito?
I would occasionally use him as a human foot-rest, and enter him in midget races against other freaks for money and fame. I’ve already envisioned my midget winning the ‘Handicapped Egg and Spoon Race’ after narrowly beating the son of the Elephant Man for the gold medal. His life would be every midgets dream. I’ve narrowed down my choices to midget actors Peter Dinklage and Verne Troyer. Hopefully soon I will own one of them.
But it doesn’t stop there. It’s an aspiration of mine to have a multitude of midgets living with me, like Hugh Hefner and his playmates, except instead of buxom, lustful whores it would be knee-high larrikins and the Playboy Mansion would instead be my humble abode in central London. There’d also be no sex of course…unless one of the female midgets happened to seduce me. Who knows how they’d show their gratitude to me?
My gang of midgets would all be cared for and looked after well, so there’d be no need for PETA to investigate. I promise to wash them each once a month, feed them three times a week, and put them up in wonderful, newly furnished cages in the basement. They will each work for me as servants, cleaners and cooks, and I will pay them with generous allowances of leftover vegetables. Like Madonna and her adopted kids, I hope to be ethnically diverse with my midgets, and plan to own a sassy black midget that talks lovable jive, an Irish midget with a drinking problem, and a Jewish midget that will secretly run the house. And if anyone wrongly claims this is enslavement rather than a wondrous midget utopia then I’ll set a group of my Mexican midgets to steal their car.
Everything is funnier with midgets. Porno? Funnier with midgets. Itty Bitty Gang Bang anyone? TV shows? Funnier with midgets. Miniature versions of Ross and Rachel? Comedy gold! Sports? Definitely funnier with midgets.
But perhaps none are more comically effective than the late, great Weng Weng, a legendary and unfortunately deceased midget from the Philippines.
Weng Weng was a pintsized lothario and martial arts expert, who’s aptitude in obliterating normal sized foes was matched only by the lascivious attractions he garnered from numerous scantily clad wenches.
Rest in peace, the baddest motherfucker the midget world will ever see. I will forever be a fan of your magnificent ilk!