UP has never even tried to fit in and be normal or work. Anyone who has tried is worth ten UP's, even if they're a fellow moonbat.
The subway cat, despite her protestations (bad back, gross obesity, whatnot), is capable of working. She could for example be one of those people wearing orange vests, jumping out from the bed of a pick-up truck to pick litter from the sidewalks and streets of Baltimore.
I was once manager of a student union (privately-owned) at the University of Nebraska, the owner being one of the top three or four Democrats in Nebraska--this was the guy who kited $7,000,000 in bad checks, and then put the barrel of a pistol inside his mouth.
Anyway, when I started there, the food court was bussed and cleaned by "clients" of a social services agency. These were retarded people, under the constant watchful eye of bitter resentful grimacing wire-rimmed-eyeglassesed women. They were paid anywhere from 67 cents to $1.29 per hour, based upon their "abilities."
The owner, who had signed a contract with the social services agency so as to show his "social consciousness," sooner or later got tired of dealing with these angry bitter women, and when the contract was up, looked around for alternatives.
Some of these retarded people were pretty good, and so I suggested, aw, just put them on my payroll, and I'd take care of it. There was some skepticism about the idea--especially given that I was never "trained" or "educated" in dealing with the mentally retarded, and besides, there were about 55 other people in the building under my supervision.
But in the end, the owner and I won.
The minimum wage at the time was, I believe, $5.25 per hour; these people were paid $6.50 per hour, despite their being "severely" disabled.
The three I remember the most included Elmer, a 73-year-old who had spent 65 years in institutions for the retarded, and who had been out in the real world only a couple of years. Elmer, an old man, was a tall guy whose hips were located only inches below his arm-pits. Severely arthritic.
And then there was Mike, a deaf dwarf with one glass eye.
And there was Joanne, monstrously fat, shaped like a bell, and like Lil Ava on Skins's island, she had no chin; her mouth receded into her neck. Significant facial hair.
They were great.
I had worried about their treatment by customers of the food court, as college students tend to be of the mocking and jeering type--and the building happened to be right on "fraternity row"--but no such thing ever happened. In fact, some of the fraternity boys and sorority girls, while dining in the food court, remembered and commemorated the birthdays and other special days of this particular work-force.
At the very least, there was much interaction, much give-and-take, much banter, between these college kids and these retarded people.
The only problem I ever had was with the owner of one of the eating establishments in the food court; a woman prominent in the Nebraska Democrat party and feminist causes who thought Elmer, Mike, Joanne, and the rest made the place "look bad."
These were people with "low functioning" IQs, and oh God, all sorts of physical frailties--but somehow, they managed to contribute to society, rather than living off of it.
