Oh Sweet Jesus…A Cocoa Cock?

Controversial NY artist Cosimo Cavallaro is familiar with turning food into art. His past efforts include repainting a Manhattan hotel room in melted mozzarella, spraying five-tons of pepper-jack cheese on a Wyoming home, and festooning a four-poster bed with 312 pounds of processed ham. Personally, I find his work to be pretty disgusting and rather smelly. His latest creation may be offensive to some, but I’m willing to bet it would be tasty to all. It’s a chocolate statue…of what you ask? Jesus Christ being crucified. And yes, I’m serious.

The statue, dubbed "My Sweet Jesus”, was to be unveiled during the Easter season. However, the exhibit was abruptly canceled after being blasted with angry phone calls and e-mails. It seems that Cavallaro’s latest piece has infuriated Catholics preparing to observe some of their holiest days of the year. The idea got mixed reviews from people on the street. What's unclear at this point is whether the artist will seek out another gallery willing to display this highly controversial work.

The nude Jesus stands in at 6 feet tall and is crafted from 120 pounds of milk chocolate – a slender dude indeed. The anatomically correct sculpture is completely edible. So for those of you feeling a bit naughty and little sinful, even his circumcised penis is there for nibbling. Now I don’t know if you’ll burn eternally in hell for doing that, or if you will just get a belly ache. Either way, I won’t be finding out because I’m not putting Christ’s cocoa cock in my mouth!

When these words were written…“Take this, all of you, and eat it. This is my body which will be given up for you.” I don’t think they had any idea a chocolate Jesus statue would one day be created. And surely no one took the cocoa cock into consideration.

Of course putting a cocoa cock in my mouth is probably a little better than if I were to munch on another one of Cavallaro’s masterpieces. It was made of shit. Yes, shit. Crap. Whatever you want to call it because there isn’t a polite way to say it. I don’t know if it was created from human feces or animal feces, but at this point, does it really make a difference? Shit is shit and it all stinks. I’m sure it tastes nothing like chicken, or chocolate for that matter.

Genetically Speaking

Genetically Speaking

I had another speaking opportunity today, this time at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, where I addressed graduate students in genetic counseling. The students had the, dare I say, "pleasure" of listening to me for a full hour!

My talk was complete with a sharp PowerPoint presentation (put together by one Winheld's World reader -- you know who you are) that illustrated me at various points in my life. There were cute pictures of me and my sisters in our younger days, graduation pictures from high school and college, and some scary looking pictures from when I had lost tons of weight prior to my tracheotomy. My favorite picture (at right) was the one of me at Halloween the first year I was in a wheelchair, when I dressed as a military tank!

As this was a class of genetic counseling students, I also touched on the issues of prenatal testing for Duchenne's and of pregnancy termination when a fetus is determined to have the disease. I told the students that while my life has been good and that I have been able to achieve plenty, if it is possible to prevent a child from being born with Duchenne's, I believe that should be done.

Certainly, I like the person I have become. However, I would trade it in a heartbeat for a "normal" life. And there is a huge physical, emotional, and financial burden placed on families raising a child with the disease. People can obviously deal with such concerns, but why go through all of this if you can avoid it in the first place?

The discussion lightened considerably when someone asked me what I didn't like about going to summer camp (the subject of one of the photos in my presentation). Yeah, something about group showers and using the toilet while your fellow camper is attempting the same feat on the adjacent throne didn't really do it for me.

But, hey, maybe that's just my personal preference!

“Shutdown Day” Is Tomorrow - March 24, 2007

Every year it gets easier and easier to leave our machines on 24 hours a day. They get quieter, we notice them less. They use less power and can run off batteries longer. We're more connected than ever before. For some it's getting harder and harder to stay away from their laptop and desktop computers. If you haven't heard of it, Shutdown Day is a project aimed at daring people to shut off their PCs for one solid day. Tomorrow, to be precise. 24 hours of being unplugged from the digital world. Think you can survive?

And if you read the fine print on ShutdownDay.org, there isn’t any mention of using external devices to connect to the web, say via a cell phone or Blackberry. (Yes, I always find ways to beat the system.) Now if for some reason I forget about Shutdown Day, just send me an e-mail to remind me. I mean…I won’t be online to read your e-mail?

I may participate. After all, Shutdown Day falls on a Saturday so that makes it much easier to unplug myself. I do my best to stay unplugged from my laptop during weekends already, so tomorrow should just be another Saturday for me. Just don’t ask me to give up my cell phone or iPod for a day. Now THAT would drive me to suicidal tendencies! Sad, but true.

Kickin' Around the Tires

Kickin' Around the Tires

About the only thing missing today was the new car smell, as I was fitted for a new motorized wheelchair. The price tag was certainly there, but fortunately it will be covered by insurance (not that that is cheap, either, but it certainly helps when paying for equipment as expensive as a luxury vehicle).

After looking at three particular models from various manufacturers and consulting with the physical therapist and medical equipment salesman, I decided to go with a mid-wheel drive chair by Invacare (pictured above), from its TDX series (Total Driving Experience -- being in a wheelchair is apparently now an "experience").

Though the measurements of my new chair will not change, the new chair should be a major improvement over the current one. With a battery for my ventilator incorporated into the design of the chair, the chair should not tip back when going over inclines.

It will definitely be a bit different to drive at first, as the fact that it is mid-wheel drive means it has six tires instead of the four to which I have been accustomed for nearly 20 years (I can't believe I've been in a wheelchair that long). When going up an incline, the chair uses the back four wheels; when going downhill, it will use the front four.

As the physical therapist told me, "You'll probably hate [the mid-wheel drive] for the first week, but then you'll really like it."

Apparently, the turning radius is not nearly as wide, so I should be able to navigate turns more easily. However, I'm sure that it will run over toes just as easily, so people better be nice to me -- or else!

The new chair will also be able to recline. Hopefully, that will make it possible for me to take a nap during the day when I get tired. I never do this now because it would mean getting out of my chair, into bed, and then back into my chair.

The most important component of this wheelchair, as with my current one, is the mini-joystick, which allows me to control the chair with the tip of my thumb. As I told the physical therapist and the salesman, I would be unable to drive my chair without such an innovation. I explained how, when I got my current chair with a mini joystick, driving became so effortless for me once again that I could not sit still, so to speak. When people ask me now why I'm constantly moving around, I tell them that I am "pacing!"

I was my usual humorous self throughout the process today. I got a good laugh when the salesman asked me if I were sure that I didn't want a color other than black.

"No sparkles or anything like that?" he asked.

Sparkles? I don't think so. Look, this is coming from a guy who once had a teal wheelchair frame when that color was popular and from the same guy who once had a fire engine red seat cushion. It's a wheelchair, for god sake! Trust me, having a really cool color isn't going to make being in a wheelchair any better. Being able to recline and drive really fast, well, that's a different story!

I'm Being Propositioned To Do A Porno?

WTF! Is nothing off limits anymore? I just had to share this e-mail I received today from a guy contacting me to do a XXX flick. Think I should do it? Maybe if they include a sheep and a midget in the scene I will. Tissue please.

Plus, it sounds like it would be marketed as a gay porn. Ahh, no thanks.

--------------------

Hi, how are you?

I work for Cody Media Adult Films. Saw your look and was interested in you for a shoot here in San diego,Ca. It would be a jack-off video shoot that pays $1,500

If interested, drop me a line. All travel, round trip air fare and hotel is paid for by the company. There is no CATCH!!

Senior Recruiter:DINO
E-mail Address: dino@codymedia.com
Instant message me if you like:
AOL:borinken32
yahoo:boricua_negro

CODY MEDIA ADULT FILMS
1295 MORENA BLVD
SAN DIEGO,CA 92110
(619)276-8000 ext-110

--------------------

So he would be shooting me shooting? Just think, all these years I've been jerking it for free when I could have been cashing in (insert money shot joke here). Ok, enough lame dirty humor. In all seriousness, does it really matter whether this guy is legit or not? His offer is still funny.

Painfully Honest And Real

Ouch. The truth often hurts when a secret is revealed. I hope this doesn’t apply to anyone, but I know it does to at least one person - the person who created the postcard below. Courtesy of PostSecret

If nothing else, this will make every blogger think.

“No E-Mail Fridays” Force You To Actually Talk To People?

For most businesses, and nearly all tech companies, Casual Fridays are a thing of the past. Every day is Casual Friday. My work attire often consists of a polo shirt and some blue jeans. Having separate offices behind closed doors are also a thing of the past. Today, it’s all about the cube. The idea is to group workers together to allow for more interaction among one another. And then there’s e-mail. It’s changed the way we do business and socialize in general. It’s made communication so convenient, that these days it’s almost “too much effort” to actually walk from your desk to a co-worker’s desk and…what do they call it…ah yes, TALK.

It's how corporate America communicates. Scheduling a meeting? Send an e-mail. Need that report right away? Send an e-mail. Are there serious issues in the department? Nothing a chain of e-mails can't solve. The volume of e-mails has exploded in recent years with over 170 billion now being sent daily around the globe. That's 2 million every second! But many in business now worry this tool for easy communication is actually making it harder to communicate. One Chicago based CEO has a solution to this problem. It’s called “No E-Mail Fridays”. When CEO Jay Ellison finally had it with e-mail, he sent out a memo announcing "No E-mail Fridays." His memo made it clear…

"Get out to meet your teams face-to-face.
Pick up the phone and give someone a call...
I look forward to not hearing from any of you,
but stop by as often as you like."

Despite all the benefits e-mail offers, we tend to use it as a kind of a tool to hide behind issues, versus getting up and talking to people. In addition to being impersonal and tedious, studies show e-mail can also be confusing and lead to misunderstandings in the workplace, particularly with bosses. As a medium, it's inherently ambiguous. There's not as much information conveyed. The pitch of your voice, the speed with which you say something, that emotional tone that's carried in your voice just isn't there.

So it’s time to close Outlook. Get up and go say “Hey, what’s up?” Real live conversation – it’s a beautiful thing.

STD: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

I never had the pleasure, I mean the pain, of contracting an STD. And believe me, I’m sooo thankful for that! I remember one of my college roommates had caught some nasty type of “love bug”. He actually asked me “Can you do me a favor? Look at this and tell me what it is.” I thought to myself, surely you must be joking. Not “surely you must be joking that you caught an STD”, but “surely you must be joking that you want me to actually look at it!” I told him there are 3 problems with what he just asked me…

1. Dude, I don’t want to see your junk.
2. I’m not in med school, so how would I know what you have?
3. Dude, I don’t want to see your junk.

Alright, fine. Maybe I wasn’t a good friend to him. I’m sure there are girls out there that would hold their girlfriend’s hair back when she pukes from a night of binge drinking. I think I could actually stomach seeing someone toss up their cookies before I could stomach looking at another dude’s bug infested balls. I’m a friend, but a man has his limits and that is where I reach mine.

I’ll admit, I’m no angel. I’ve had my share of questionable intimate encounters. A one night stand or two…or three or four, but who hasn’t? Having a one nighter is not always the smartest thing to do, but have you ever tried talking sense into a drunk horny person? I challenge you to find a single 20-something-year-old who doesn’t have a little dirty laundry in their closet. Four years of college = four Spring Breaks. And we all know what that means – even one legged midgets are getting their swerve on. Then after graduation there are bachelor parties, rebound girls and of course the bartender that looked way better with beer goggles on in a dimly lit nightclub.

You know, the “what’s her name”. That is if you even caught her first name because we all know you surely didn’t catch the last name…nor do you care. Although you will care come morning time when the daylight dances across her face and even thru the world’s worst tequila hangover, you know that you have slept with one hideous monster! Without her waking, you manage to scurry out of her apartment, never to be heard from again. Then on your way home, you feel it, THE ITCH! Ah yes, the gift that keeps on giving.

I’m sure there are worst things one can catch other than crabs. I’m willing to bet that Chlamydia, gonorrhea or genital herpes are far worse. And what about Hepatitis C? I think it should be called Hepatitis F because once you get it, you are pretty much f*cked. Then again, there is a teeny tiny bright side to having Hepatitis C. You can always lie to people and say you caught it from Pam Anderson. Sure nobody will want to sleep with your dirty ass, but you can walk away letting them think that at one point in your life you were a stud who hooked up with none other than Pam Anderson. Then again, girls might just see you for what you truly are, a filthy lying scumbag. Don’t feel too bad though, your crawly critters will want to stick with you, even if the ladies don’t.

What's up Doc?

What's up Doc?

I had a housecall today from my childhood doctor (standing next to me), affectionately known as "Dr. Shep." Nearly 25 years ago, when my parents realized that my physical development seemed too slow, they took me to several doctors, none of whom recognized what was wrong.

That was until they took me to see Dr. Shep. A bell went off in his head and he was able to immediately diagnose me with muscular dystrophy.

Over the years, as I progressed from preschool to college, Dr. Shep provided a calming influence for my parents and me, never panicking, but also being proactive when necessary. A computer enthusiast, he also taught me all that there was to know about the Apple computer I owned back in the day.

Retired for several years now, Dr. Shep spends his time working at his computer and on his golf game. Like a fine wine, his stroke has improved with age, or so I've been told!

I Found Nemo…At A Sushi Bar

Listen up kids! If you are a picky eater who refuses to finish his/her peas, then consider this your last warning. Dinnertime is about to get a lot worse for you. I strongly suggest you reconsider trying the peas before you are served up a Disney classic - Nemo sushi. It’s pure terror for children of all ages and just tons of fun for parents! That will teach ‘em. And remember to dip the head in soy sauce. It helps drown the sound of Nemo screaming. Bon appétit you lil bastards. Mmmwaahahaha!

Winheld's World Rant of the Week

Winheld's World Rant of the Week

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you the following Rant of the Week...

One of my doctors recently relocated to another location, and when I went there this week, I arrived to find a cramped parking lot that did not have any handicapped spaces. Now, my doctor was wonderful about everything and promised to have things straightened out by the next time I come for a checkup, but that's not the point.

The reason I bring this up is that it highlights a lack of accessibility, in of all places, the medical world. A few weeks ago, I visited another doctor's office about a week and a half after a snowstorm, to find that the curb cuts from the parking lot to the sidewalk had still not been shoveled. I had not dressed very warmly, so I was freezing by the time I went halfway around the block in my wheelchair in order to reach the sidewalk!

But many of the problems I have encountered occur once inside medical offices, where hallways are so narrow that I have to drive perfectly just to get inside an examining room. Fitting the doctor, my nurse, and me in the same room and being able to close the door requires all sorts of coordination. Kind of reminds me of the old "How many people can you fit inside a telephone booth?" experiment. (Anyone remember telephone booths?)

To be fair, the costs involved in renovating doctors offices are probably too high for individual doctors. But shouldn't there be a funding source for such projects? Maybe there is and I just don't know about it. Perhaps someone out there can shed some light on the subject.

Many times, hospitals aren't any better, unless you are in newly-constructed areas. Getting into the bathroom with your wheelchair is often impossible, and getting through doorways can be difficult. And then, if you try to get into bed using a Hoyer lift, as I do, the bottom of the bed is often too low to accommodate the lift.

I mean, come on people, if the places where people like me come for medical treatment are not accessible, how can we expect other kinds of places to be accessible? Medical care is a necessity; eating at a restaurant is not, but I've encountered far more accessible restaurants that I have medical facilities. What's wrong with this picture?

Eat Your Damn Peas David!

Sometimes in life we have to learn the hard way. Growing up, I can remember sitting at the dinner table staring at a scoop of peas on my plate for literally an hour! The rule was I had to at least try them, before I decided I hated them. To take at least one single bite. To put one single pea into my mouth. But I refused. I just could not eat them. I couldn’t even stomach the thought of that tiny green ball touching the tip of my tongue, not to mention they smelled like feet. So at the table I sat. And sat. And sat a little longer. They were colder than my glass of milk by the time I dug up enough courage to roll one across my fork. I stabbed it a few times and pushed it around my plate, but it never pushed pass my lips.

I had already made my mind up, without trying them. I hated peas. I hated everything about them. And no matter how long I sat at that table, I wouldn’t change my mind. Peas were the enemy. Public Enemy #1. Somehow my father thought that I would eat a pea if I sat at the table long enough. That I would finally cave into the pressure so I could be excused to go play with my He-Man dolls. After all, He-Man was (and probably still is) “the most powerful man in the universe” and I was certain he NEVER ate peas. So you see, I could grow up to be big and strong despite not eating my veggies. Of course my father didn’t like my “kid logic”. He was the Dad and father knows best. “Just eat the damn peas David!”

Perhaps my taste buds never matured or perhaps I was traumatized because I still hate peas to this day. Little kids are known to be picky eaters and complainers. I was the pickiest eater of all! I wasn’t much of a complainer, but I did try my hand at debating my anti-pea side to my Dad. However, I lost by a landslide. Actually, I don’t even think there was a vote. Democracy didn’t exist at my family’s dinner table. My father ruled the land and that was that. My vote would never count because we were never electing a new leader.

I learned the hard way, not about peas, but rather about keeping my mouth shut because not everyone wants to hear my opinion. My Dad did not care to hear my opinion on peas. He did not care to listen to my reasoning as why I shouldn’t be forced to try them. I watch my 2-year-old niece shovel peas in like they are candy. I wonder what “kid planet” she’s from because it’s certainly not the same one I came from. I wonder if there is any connection as to why I nicknamed her “Peanut”. Because she’s nuts about peas or because only a nut would enjoy peas? I’ve also been known to call her “Sweet Pea”. I have no idea where that came from. I actually hate pet names, but for her, well anything for her.

About 5 years after the “Eat your damn peas David” incident, I tested my father yet again. Let me think how to delicately word this…my father has a way of not always speaking kindly to my mother. It was something that infuriated me as a child and at the same time, I was left powerless to stop. However, one day I was brazen and stepped in. My parents were in the middle of a heated argument and when that happened, I wanted to be as far away from it as possible. I hated the sound of them yelling at each other. I hated the hurtful words that were said and most of all I hated the fear I felt in my chest. The fear that this fight may be the final fight that ends their marriage. Like a panic attack, it struck me hard and constricted my breathing. The thought of being a latchkey kid who had to choose which bitter divorced parent he wanted to live with was paralyzing. Words can’t express how terrified I felt of that scenario coming true. It would be my worst nightmare, far scarier than the Boogie Man that hid in my closet and slept under my bed.

So as their argument carried on, I decided it was time to retreat to my happy safe place – my bedroom. As I began walking up the steps, I paused, turned and said in my bravest "I will defend you Mom" voice…”Hey Dad, you know what?” He stopped shouting immediately and his eyes zeroed in on mine. A lump grew in my throat. A knot tied in my stomach. I should have pretended I had peas on my plate and kept my mouth shut. I had some big balls to talk to my Dad like that, too big for my own good. I can still remember his tone. “What! What is it that you have to say that is sooo important?” My reply…”um, nothing” and I sheepishly scurried off to my room and tightly shut the door as if the big bad wolf himself would huff and puff and blow it in.

In hindsight, I have no idea what I planned on saying to him. And if I did have some tough He-Man response in mind, it was frightened right out of me with his eyes alone. How in the world did I ever think that I could tell my own father off and get away with it? I would be willing to bet my Dad doesn’t even recall any of this, but it left a lasting impression on me. It will forever be remembered as the day I let myself down when I attempted to stand up for my Mom. I could hold my own with a plate full of peas, but I was no match for the Pea Enforcer himself. In my world, he was the He-Man and the most powerful man in the universe. And I was nothing but a small pea on a big plate, squashed down to size and then some.

Only A Lousy Lay Would Need The Condom Applicator

What is this? A condom applicator? They can’t be serious. How hard (no pun intended, well maybe) is it to put on a condom? It’s so simple even a child could do it! Now, I’m certainly not endorsing kids having sex, I’m merely stating that rolling a rubber on is nearly idiot-proof. Apparently though, not everyone seems to agree with me. So the condom applicator was invented by Dutch designer Jurgen Bey. Marketed and sold under the Pronto brand, the condom applicator is aimed towards those with the world’s worst dick-to-hand coordination in existence. Yeah, I’m talking to you fumble fingers.

Seriously, how good can a guy be in the sack if he is fumbling around just putting the condom on? Think about it. If he can’t “stick it in the hole” when suiting up, how the hell is he going to “stick it in the hole” when it’s game time? Get some rhythm. Get some smoothness. Get some practice! Ladies, do yourself a favor and just kick him out of bed now before you waste the next 30-60 seconds of your life with him poking around clueless in the dark. Pathetic.

To some, the condom applicator is more than an endorser for safe sex. To some, it’s a work of art. It’s even been named “The Most Beautiful Object” in South Africa. I’m guessing South Africa isn’t known for their art museums? So the condom applicator is about as artsy as it’s going to get. Here’s the kicker…

You will see the condom applicator in a museum, not in South Africa, but in the States. It was selected for the SAFE exhibition at MoMA in New York two years ago. It’s now in the museum’s permanent collection. Sorry, but if you need this product, then you should be ashamed. Be very, very ashamed.

29 and Counting...

29 and Counting...

It's hard to believe it, but I turned 29 today! Yep, that means the end of my 20s is fast approaching. It seems like only yesterday that I turned 20.

My life has certainly changed since then. I am lucky to be alive, in light of some of the medical situations I have been through in recent years. On the other hand, it saddens me that my 20s are over and I haven't had the opportunity to do the kinds of things that most people get to do in their 20s, like moving out of my parents' house (although my father has offered me the supply shed out back, rent free!) or being in a relationship. It's not that these things can't happen in one's 30s, but the 20s to me represent vitality, youth, and the freedom to try new and exciting things and I cannot help but feel a bit cheated. And yet, I feel guilty for feeling this way because there are so many others with my disease who have not been as fortunate as I have to even be here.

Nevertheless, I celebrated my birthday with family, which took my mind off of things for a while. And I started thinking about what I want to accomplish in my 29th year. Maybe I don't have many years left, but I'm determined to make this one count. Hopefully, I'll find a publisher for my book. I'll go girl-watching -- I mean on long walks in Center City (I can't believe I just said that!) -- spend time with friends, and attend lots of baseball games. Hey, maybe I'll even see the Phillies win the World Series (I won't hold my breath on that one even if my ventilator would let me!)

And hopefully, next year at this time, I'll be writing about a 30th birthday bash the likes of which have never been seen!

My Character Drawing

Ever wonder what a little virtual version of you would look like? Well wonder no more because there is AIM WeeMee World, used in conjunction with AOL Instant Messenger. There you can create an animated avatar, a little virtual version of you! Obviously I had 5 minutes of my life to waste the other day, so I thought I would entertain myself by creating a “MiniMe” of sorts. I’ve shrunk myself down to cartoon doodle size and here are the results, complete with the messy hair and my patented Crest Kid smile. When animated, a little "ting" shines off my one tooth. It's very corny, but adds a humorous touch none the less.

Do you like my black sweater? It’s new and it’s seriously what I am wearing now. A little freaky, isn’t it? The daffodils were added for that “Spring is almost here” touch. I look so young and that is perhaps the closest baby face smooth shave I've had in a long time!

He's Baaack!

He's Baaack!

Fame and fortune may come calling, but there's no place quite like Winheld's World! So when my nurse, Frank, (pictured with me outside the Philadelphia Museum of Art last fall) left for another job, it was only a matter of time before he returned. I mean, where else does the opportunity exist for a nurse to work for such a cool guy? (That would be me, by the way!)

Today was Frank's first day back, and while he will only be working for me on a limited basis, Winheld's World will be all the better for it. And, as it turns out, the day of the week that Frank will be with me happens to be the day of most of the Phillies Businesspersons' Specials. It's going to be a terrific summer, indeed!

Welcome back, my friend!