I have type 2 diabetes. I was diagnosed about three years ago. Just so there's no confusion, this happened because I'm a fat piece of shit who can't say no to food like a normal goddamn human being. I did this to myself and I own responsibility for it. I was even warned about it by my doctor a year in advance and I probably could have headed it off by committing to a strict diet of rabbit food for the rest of my life, but that seemed (and still seems) to me to be a cure worse than the disease. And so here we are in the year of our Lord 2021, and I have numbness in my fucking toes and am doing what I can to cut out starches and sugars. (You know, when I was a young man they told us that the food we should be eating the most of was
grains. I did what they told me to do, and now here we are. I'm not trying to blame anyone for my condition, I'm just trying to explain why I might feel just a little bit bitter.)
But here's the thing: I'm a successful professional making a lot more money than I ever dreamed I'd make, and my condition hasn't slowed me down one bit. Fuck, I've barely left the house since the lockdowns started a year and a half ago, and yet my career hasn't suffered in the slightest. I'm one of them folks what needs to take pills to makes my brains work right, and yet I've succeeded beyond my wildest dreams just by committing to what I want to do with my life and refusing to make excuses for myself. And I guess if I'm going to look inwards at myself, that's probably why I spend most of my time on this hateful transphobic website A-Logging about Lou. He had the same opportunities I had. I don't come from money. Fuck, I went to state schools for my entire academic career, while Lou went to Seton Hill and managed to get himself fucked out of it. I made my bones working for peanuts in the mid-90s, and clawed my way up to a position where I support my family doing what I love, and the beetus hasn't slowed me down one bit. No person with a brain and skills and the desire to make something of himself has ever been stopped by diabetes, and that goes for construction workers as well as desk jockeys. And that's why I want to scream every time I see Lou treating his diabetes diagnosis like it's some kind of fucking jackpot that entitles him to a tugboat

courtesy of the American taxpayer. After a lifetime of being a worthless burden on society, he wants the rest of us to pay for his upkeep for the rest of his life because he wants to keep stuffing his face with spaghetti and keep grifting for increasingly large iPads to compensate for his theoretically failing eyesight. No, Lou. Not today. Not today.