. . . would still have a nasty smell when it rots.
I'm referring, of course, to the revelation that a paraplegic blogger suffering from cerebral palsy has turned out to be a fake. Not only a fake disabled person, but what appears to be much, much worse, a fake celebrity.
The consequence is that the blog the faker wrote has been deleted. As have his Twitter and Facebook accounts. Not because, one imagines, they were fiction. After all, half the blogs, half the 'life stories' on Blogspot and half the accounts on Facebook are probably pure fiction.
No. They're gone; people cannot now look at them to see for themselves what might give a clue to seeing the difference between a fiction and reality. Gone, deleted, because, it would appear, it might embarrass a lot of media in the US who set him up as a classic 'sentimental celebrity'; and rounded up their pet 'real' celebrities, like Kim Kardashian, to give the thing more 'celebrity authenticity'.
Yes, I'm well aware that's an oxymoron.
And my prime exhibit here, of course, is HuffPo, which I suspect gushed cloyingly over a lot of what one might justifiably suspect are this guy's sentimental platitudes, and has deleted everything and now only retains the report of his exposure.
But the anger is being orchestrated against the faker; not against the people who let themselves be taken in. And it could be, as one commenter has pointed out, mean open season for attacks on those of us who are really disabled, and really write about it. Even if we are not 'celebritised' as this 'David Rose' was, or do not want to be.
In the interests of truth, beauty and so on, and before Google decides to make a habit of closing down pseudonymous disabled people's blogs without notice, I suppose I shall have to declare that I am not actually a disabled squirrel. I am a human being. I am a disabled human being.
But can't you tell that anyway?
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