If an adult cancer patient evokes pity in the hearts of caring, sensitive people, imagine the havoc wreaked by a young child stricken with some form of this terrible disease. No, really, imagine. Imagine a bald eight year old, pale and thin, barely managing a weak smile as she clutches to her IV pole.

Aren't you just about ready to pull out your wallet? The dreaded childhood cancer card is absolutely infallible. I used it to get into a private high school and then played it again to get financial aid. I plan to use it to get into college, too. Of course, there's nothing better for homework assignments. A childhood cancer story equals an automatic A, even if it's titled "How I Had Cansur" and is half a page long double spaced and the assignment was to write an eight page paper comparing medieval Europe and pre-Qing Dynasty China. Frankly, I expect you to upvote this writeup heavily, because, well, I had cancer.

And talk about free stuff! Free tickets to amusement parks, free tickets to concerts, free tickets to sporting events - people just love to see those cancer kids having fun. Celebrities love to take pictures with them, too. And people will buy you anything. All the cancer kids I know have gotten at least one free trip to Disneyland out of someone. A friend of mine spent one summer flying around the country going from cancer camp to cancer camp, all on the American Cancer Society's ticket.

When I have kids, I'm going to shave their heads and keep 'em indoors so that people will give them things. Of course, this will make them spoiled brats, but then again, most kids who had cancer are, too. And you're not allowed to smack 'em.