I had the misfortune of growing up in the shadow of the self centered generation of the baby boomers. It is hard for me to get past the droning affirmation that children do not need a Dad to be raised, that all men are rapists, and that opening your mouth to respond to the facts you see is some form of racism, sexism, or fascism. My respect for my father was not something I took to school, and certainly it was not welcome in the universities I attended. I could not find it reflected in the newspaper, nor on the television network paid for with his, and later my taxes. Still, I am thankful that I was deprived of a deprived education. The aura of victim comes with a price: I lack the needle scars, the raging HIV virus, the herpes, or the bloated fat body that the victim class wear so proudly as they demand their cut of the booty of the fruits of the labor of the working class. I am no victim, my only scars are financial. Unlike those who follow the United Church, Marx, or Saul Alinsky, I still have my soul.
Archive for the ‘Great Parenting’ Category
I know, The Mayor made you a promise years ago that Mitchieville would never turn into a cat blog, a knitting blog, or a blog where he’s always posting pictures of his kids. It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted anything of Clare, and I’ve never posted my other legitimate kids, so you’re going to have to cut me a break here.
Do you see what it says on Clare’s shirt?
I didn’t do it.
Nobody saw me do it.
I want to speak to my Grandma.
Posing in ponytails by the last thing The Mayor will ever buy from GE,
Clare is still small enough to mail. I’m waiting for some company to send me a self-enclosed envelope. Boy, are they ever going to get a surprise!
There’s a valuable lesson these children learned today: When momma says eat all your vegetables or she’s going to put you in the dog cage, momma aint messin’ around. Those kids are just lucky momma doesn’t make them eat out of the dog dish. She’s spoiling them, she is.
A little boy says to his mommy: “Mommy, how come I’m black and you’re white?”
Mommy says, “Let’s not go there, I can hardly remember anything from that party. You’re just lucky you don’t bark.”
And that ends great parenting week. Now go hug your child. I said your child.
Letting your infant play with a gun isn’t that bad if the gun isn’t loaded. Same goes if you let your baby play with a syringe, but there’s a cap on it. Or it isn’t rusty.
Remember, guns don’t kill babies, the velocity of the bullets kill babies.
Can you tell I’ve been drinking tonight?
Before you prudes get all preachy and start reciting from Leviticus, keep in mind that the lightweight is smoking a freaking menthol. And Tennent’s Lager is kind of piss-like in quality and alcohol content. Plus, Junior’s wearing a diaper, just like his baby momma does when she goes out to play the slots at Casino Niagara. All in all, that some fine parenting going on there, poopy pants.
If you like to carry your child around like it’s a giant ham hock, the chances of you winning Baby Momma Of The Year are pretty close to zero. Unless you live in central Scarborough, then there’s a good chance you’re going to go home with the gold (which you will melt down and make a groovy $$$ necklace with).
This week we are celebrating all the fantastic baby momma and baby dadda’s. The family is the cornerstone to a stable society, or so they tellz me, and maybe I’m just a bit too optimistic, but I think society is doing just fine, thank you very much. Take Loquisha, for instance. Loquisha needed a Smoothie Double Dong Manage A Trois Dildo, and instead of keeping little Tyrell at home, perhaps duct taping him to the bathroom sink, she decided that her little acorn should be involved in her sexual toy purchasing decisions. Sex is natural, the kid’s just going to have sex any way, start him when he’s young. Yup, no harm there.