BRAIN SALVE

From the Archive: The Foundlings

2012-01-29T15:31:00.001-06:00

Deacon the Milkman and I have been hosting a couple of exchange students from Tierra del Fuego. Their original host-family had them working in a sweatshop and calling it “vocational school” as they were learning how to sew in 36-hour stints. We rescued them and they came into our lives with nothing but the homemade clothes on their backs and various “tickle-me Elmo” limbs stuffed in their pockets. They said they were going to trade them for cat food. Evidently, there’s a huge market for bootleg Elmo parts. Anyway, they’ve been shacking up in my office for the past week. If you saw the look on their little faces when we told them they were having Hamburger Helper for dinner with Oatmeal substituted for meat…well there just aren’t any words.

Deacon found them jobs as bologna gatherers at our local slaughterhouse. Pick’n up the parts, dust'n ‘em off, throw’n them in the bin…I know they’re thanking their lucky stars. Every night, we hear them crying themselves to sleep with tears of joy. Occasionally, we have to shake a can full of pennies at them in order to keep them off the furniture or urinating in the refrigerator, but I’m sure you know exactly how these sorts of things go.

Two nights ago, I was crawling into bed and found a full bull’s bladder sitting on my pillow. The skin was taut, round, almost bursting with urine. The way it gleamed in the light it almost looked like if you so much as breathed on it, it would go off. The workmanship! Those little scamps had sewn all the openings shut and put in our bed to make sure we’d find it, not unlike the cat who kills something and leaves it in front of the coffee maker for you to find. It was so sweet. It was also very delicate, must have taken them hours to prepare it. Deacon grabbed one end of it and I the other, and we headed downstairs to give it back to them. Because our hands were full, we had to kick open the door and then hurl it at their shared twin cot. Sure, in hindsight, we could have gently set the bloated orb outside their door and tip-toed back up the stairs, but we wanted them to share in our excitement and give it back to them immediately. The look of shock in combination with unbridled tear-streaked, urine-bathed joy was an image I shall take with me throughout the rest of my days…I love our new foundlings.

*Here’s the translation
We’ve got neighbors whose a/c went out. They’ve been with us for most of the week. In Houston no A/C really does mean sweatshop...like Hell's crotch.

Unfortunately there’s no such urine-bomb experience that I can relate to you in truth…I just sorta made that up…
They were exemplary guests…

The importance of "NO!"

2012-01-21T15:16:00.004-06:00

I have been through the wringer lately. Working with today’syouth, trying to get them through the pitfalls of higher education relativelyunscathed. I’ve come to notice that even though I do my very damnedest to helpfolks, I have been ending my days on a note that what some folks need to hear,more than anything, is “no”. It’s an issue that has been plaguing me from manysides. We are apparently fostering a culture where everybody wins. The sad factof the real world is that first place isn’t given for participation, it’s anaccomplishment. No one is going to give you a prize for effort when you botch alung transplant. I understand thatpeople need a healthy self-esteem and a real sense of self-confidence in orderto not fall face down in a ditch of self-destructive habits. I get that. At thesame time, the Special Olympics model isn’t how you run a company, a country oreven how you go about achieving your dreams.

I estimate that the cause of this situation stems fromparents who have gone out of their way to make sure that their kids grow upwithout having to endure any of the heartaches that they grew up with. It’sdone out of love, which is endearing. To that, I would bring up the example of generational wealth. Kids, whohave been able to have anything they wanted even if just they wanted it out ofnovelty. What they get from the interaction is that all they have to do to getsomething is ask…sometimes not even that. Street smarts is cultivated, and ifyou don’t have to develop that sense of getting what you want from life foryourself, then you won’t. Mostpeople don’t take Algebra because they’re seeking a challenge; they take itbecause they have to. Work is hard. “Yeah kid, I know. It sucks... characterbuilding and all that. Buck up.” Back to the parents that bubble-wrap theirkids against life’s little bumps, scrapes and knocks, most come from reasonablemeans, not rich, not poor, just making do with what they have. But telling yourkid that they’re smarter than everyone they come across could be just asdetrimental to them as calling them a moron. They don’t finish things or pursuetheir goals because they’re already smarter than everybody else, as opposed tothe moron who won’t make the attempt because they’re too stupid to pull it off,so why bother? There’s got to be some middle ground here.

What I’m getting at here is the over-inflated sense ofentitlement. I hear “I don’t want to do anything that’s hard” almost on repeat.I find that my helping them find the path of least resistance handicaps themfrom flourishing into well-rounded and disciplined individuals. Am I becomingpart of the problem? My job requires me to plot the course that will lead mystudents to their goal. I cannot tell them “It’s not going to happen”. Instead,I have to tell them “In order for this to happen, these things must be done”. Ican do that; however, many of them don’t pick up on the subtleties ofdiplomatic language. One of myprofessors was a hack writer who told the class, “Don’t even try to writehumor, because you can’t do it.” He was poet who was in love the sound of hisown voice. If you can imagine a guy who rolls up the car windows when he fartsbecause he wants to truly be at one with his essences, you’re on the righttrack. I took it as a challenge. If you want me to do something, tell me Ican’t.

Tell people “No”. Saying no isn’t a crime. You have no needto feel guilt about it. It’s not your job nor place to please everyone. Thereare people that you should try to appease. If you are in some sort ofsubordinate role in a relationship, it’s important to try to appease thesepeople, your boss, your probation officer, your teacher, your client, the judgethat could send you up the river etc. Say yes to these people.

Your kids are not on this list. They have to say yes to you,not the other way round.

Give them the power to realize that life has to be seizedand taken, it won’t be handed to them on bended knee. Tell them no. I imploreyou. Tell them no. You’ll be doing me a solid. Thanks.

How to Take Down a Bully

2011-12-13T14:33:00.016-06:00

Bullying takes on many forms, physical for sure, but there are also verbal forms of bullying. Here’s where I give you the golden ticket on how to win a verbal skirmish you might find yourself in. We’ve all been there. Someone has put you in the crosshairs and started attacking your person with distasteful comments. The following prescription, when followed correctly, should save you the unfortunate fate of public ridicule. Keep in mind I developed this as a defense mechanism out of necessity. I had to come up with a system that would put people off, or at least serve as a deterrent from screwing with me during my obnoxiously awkward teenage years. I was so awkward and nerdy that I made other, lesser nerdy people look not nerdy, and therefore, an easy target. Those guys from the Big Bang Theory? Yeah, those are my homies.

One thing that I’ve learned to be overwhelmingly true is that people who are hurting, go out of their way to hurt other people, so at least they aren’t alone. Bullying stems from insecurity. These people should be pitied. I highly encourage you to not go after people because you can, or because you’re trying to “teach someone a lesson”, that’s a lie that you tell yourself to make yourself feel better for being needlessly cruel. Treat your words like you would a gun. Don’t shoot your mouth off simply because you can. It’s reckless, ridiculous, and will probably end up blowing up in your face. That said, my sister used to call me “the pit viper” when we were growing up, and I look back at those moments fondly. I didn’t go looking for fights, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t figuratively armed to the teeth. I did it because I knew that if I didn’t stand up for myself, that I’d be bullied for the rest of my life. So I made the list. I carried a list of intricately worded and extremely vulgar insults in my wallet for the occasion when I could publicly napalm those bastards with insults and put-downs. I never needed to pull it from my back pocket. I had that shit committed to memory. I’ve since graduated from university with a degree in Communication Studies, and here’s a smidgeon of what I’ve learned.

1)Do not lose your cool. This is the cardinal rule of confrontation. Picture the most revered and effective killers. The truly effective ones are the ones that are cold-blooded, methodical killers who do it without fear or emotion. Javier Bardem in "No Country for Old Men", The Terminator, Ninjas, Cobras, Sharks, these are your role models here. The reason this is rule number 1 is because even if you are triumphant in the rhetoric portion of this encounter, if you transform into to rage-fueled maniac on the verge of turning green and throwing furniture, you’ve lost. It’s that simple. Cool as a cucumber, baby…that’s you.
2) If you did it, OWN IT! If you are accused of something and you did it, own it. Own it without shame, unblinkingly, and with pride. What is going on here is an attempt to shame you. If you remove the shame from the accusation and own it, then you have disarmed the accuser. For whatever reason, you found it appropriate to do the thing that you were accused of at some point, so own it. Example, if Bill Clinton had simply fessed-up to the BJ when he was asked about it the first time, things may have turned out differently. “Not only did I receive oral sex from that woman, but it was really mediocre. On a scale of 1 to 10, I might give her about a four. The effort was there though.” There’s another reason why this tactic is worth using, in this day and age it is almost impossible to conceal the truth. Information is instantaneous, and the juicier the dirt, the more likely it is to find it’s way to the surface. So, if you deny it, and you did it, and it get’s out that you did it; then on top of everything else, you’re a liar too. Most people don’t come back from that. Ask Bill.
3) Name Calling. Name-calling is for cowards and it’s lazy. If you’re going to call me names, why not call me purple? At least by calling me purple the insult would be interesting. Name-calling is simply slapping a label on someone as to how you think they should be classified, and nothing more. Consider the source. For instance, say Rush Limbaugh started calling me names. If Rush Limbaugh being the big fat, drug addict that he is, decided to start throwing labels at me, I can’t think that I’d even be bothered to even marginally care…why? It’s the opinion of a big fat drug addict, he ain’t the Dalai Lama. It’s important to acknowledge one important thing about name-calling, and that is, you never address the comment itself. You attack your accuser. “Oh Rush, maybe if you’d take minute and stop popping those oxycotin like tic-tacs, you’d see that no one gives flying rat’s ass what comes out of that dysenteric blister of a mouth of yours, and you could finally move on with what little life you have left and leave people alone.” See? Go after the accuser.
4) The poisoned arrow. This is complicated but very much worth knowing about. This is a piece of critically damaging information that will sink your opponent’s boat. It’s used in politics all the time. In fact, it’s the holy grail of campaigning and everybody’s looking for it. If you have a poisoned arrow, covet it. This is to be used as purely a defense mechanism. Seeking out a fight to use one makes you just as bad as the bully who’s pushing you around. The ideal way to address this situation is wait for the fight to come to you and make it in a very public place. This won’t be difficult due to the fact that bullies seldom go after people when they’re by themselves. They do it because they’re trying to gain support by their peers. Let me tell you the beauty of poisoned arrows. If you have one, use it. Don’t threaten to use it. Don’t take the high road. Use it and aim for the jugular. Threatening to use a poisoned arrow neutralizes its effectiveness. The first step in disarming a trap, is knowing of its existence. Assassination is the goal here, wounding someone only gives them the opportunity to convalesce, rally their troops, and retaliate later. Swift, clean and total annihilation is the only course of action. Please keep in mind that if you level someone, all bets are off. You are making it known that there is no hope, nor interest in reconciliation or making nice. If you were to liken it to a warzone, you are essentially nuking the battlefield and turning the desert to glass. That said, this decision has a cost, if you nuke your boss, be prepared to leave expediently. If you do this to a lover/husband/wife/significant other, it’s over. If it’s a teacher, you just bombed the class. The point here is that everybody has to eat crow at some point in their lives for whatever reason, to keep their job, to finish a project, to keep a marriage together, whatever, that fact of the matter, shooting a poisoned arrow sometimes just isn’t worth the aftermath. Be prepared for that.
5) Character assassination. Think of it as a clean slate for the miserable slob who’s been giving you a hard time. Here’s how you do it. First, if someone’s calling you names, don’t get suckered into a name-calling fight. It’s dumb and serves no purpose. Instead, go for the reason why the turd is calling you names. Acknowledge your being an easy target, but the reason why he/she’s attacking you is because what they fear most in themselves could very easily be what they’re accusing in you. It’s like the fat girl running around the playground calling other people fat. She’s attacking other people so that she won’t get attacked. It’s lame. So when you bring it up that she’s calling you fat because her brother comes home from being the worst player warming the bench at soccer practice, rips off the heads of her Bratz dolls, calls her a fat skank and then breaks wind on her toothbrush, she now feels the need to take it out on you…it’s pathetic. She’s calling you fat because her brother sucks at soccer. So there you are. Simple. Easy. Get to the root of the issue as to why this monkey is flinging proverbial poo at you, expose it openly, and you’re good. She'll leave you alone. You’re not worth messing with. The thing about this, is that she’s getting bullied, and is passing the pain on to you. Hopefully this will open her eyes to addressing the issue with her brother.
6) The family dynamic. The holiday season means family and some very old wounds. Many people do not have to leave home in order to find a bully. There are instances when you can deal with them as you would a normal bully, but it complicates things by the fact that when you demolish a family member, you’re reestablishing a pecking order. For instance, If you have a particularly bitter, old, rotting harpy of a family member who likes to bring up ridiculous things in your past like the time you thought “The Monkees” were the bomb or your unhealthy fondness for comic books, or that time you made a fool of yourself by doing whatever sport it is you tried out for and failed miserably. Perhaps they used a poisoned arrow themselves, like the time they outed you at your grandmother’s 80^th birthday party (if that happens to you, just own it.). Who would do such a thing? It’s the mark of a wounded soul. Everyone in the family knows this aspect about this individual. It’s possible you’ve known one another your entire lives and it’s impossible to believe that this woman’s bitch factor is flying under the radar. It’s pretty much public record to everyone involved. That said, don’t use a poisoned arrow on a family member unless you’re prepared for the backlash. Even if they deserve it, if you use it, it makes you look like a monster. It’s appropriate to pull them aside and show them the arrow and if they want to open this dialogue in public that’s their prerogative but it’s best to leave things where they are and stop picking on you.

Bullying is everywhere, odds are, it’s happened to you at some point in your life. Bullies go after people that they deem as easy targets and it’s always because they feel unworthy or insecure. They are trying to make everyone as miserable as they are, or they are doing this as a distraction. If people’s attention is focused somewhere else, they will be overlooked. If you’re the bully, please realize the pain you're putting someone else through will one day come back to haunt you. Karma is swift and unforgiving, and the people you’re bullying will one day own the company that you’re trying to get hired by.

It’s all about the junk, apparently

2011-10-10T13:55:00.015-05:00

Sooo. Here’s this…I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that I hope that this trend of being disenchanted and only wearing clothes that are "ironic" in the sense that they’re obviously hideous is on it’s way out. The clothes you put on our body tell the world how you see yourself and how we should perceive you.

Hipsters, this crap of making a “clip art” outfit from the very worst trends of the 80’s in an effort to “stick it to the man” accomplishes nothing but making you look like an imbecile. The people you’re trying to piss off are chuckling at your expense. Imagine trying to stifle a laugh because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings…ok, this is NOT that. The people you’re trying to thumb your nose at are pinching themselves to keep from laughing because they want to see just how far you’re going to saunter down “look how much I can dress like crazy person” lane.

Your pants are already so tight that we can check your pulse through your skinny jeans and you’re rubbing our noses in it.

Your fashion statement is telling me “Hey world, I’m bored with like everything so check out my junk. I’m sure it’s way cooler than anything you’ve ever seen so don’t bother to comment.”

Keeping this in mind, I have a problem with the interpretation of lower body coverings of the millennial generation in general, not just the hipsters and here’s why:

1) Ladies, what gives with trend of hiking the short shorts all the way up your crack and then leaving the house? It’s like your asshole is half goat and decided to snack on your shorts. For real, I’m not saying you’re not a lady, but this is clearly the mark of a woman who’s ready and willing to earn some bus fare…skank. You’re gonna run out of bleach trying to scrub that skid mark out; that is, if you bother, you’re clearly not troubling yourself with underwear, why should you go the distance of doing laundry?

2) Speaking of underwear, Guys, I’m glad you’re proud of it. Really I am. It’s good to have that signature piece that says “This is what I’m about!”, but if you're one these guys walking around the with waist of your pants actually beneath your ass and your boxers parked at your navel, you’re sending the message the you’re mentally defective. One could assume that you’ve come to this conclusion to wear your pants in this manner because you can’t wrap your head around the fact that toilet paper is used vertically and not side to side; therefore, making the need to air out the region a necessity. Literally showing your ass to the public merely shows the world that anything coming from your person is not to be taken seriously and probably reeks of poo.

At this point, I’d like to bring something up, but I’m a little afraid to because if you’re a hipster, you may decide to go down this road because “this time you’ll fix ‘em”. You’re really gonna flip us off with fashion’s middle finger. And it’s called HYPERCOLOR.

These clothes changed color when you apply heat and moisture. I know it seems like a fantastic idea, but when your photo prints come back from the Wallgreen’s (because you’re not getting a digital camera ‘cause those are for sell-outs. "Yeah, take that!"…as you tweet this to all of your friends.) you will be horrified to find that this fad was actually trap; probably developed by the French to see if “Zee Stupeed Amereecans will do eet.” And boy did we ever, we totally drank the shit out of that punch. Summer hit and it looked like somebody went over our armpits and crotches with a highlighter. You couldn’t go to a theme park of any sort without you’re eyes being assaulted with fluorescent nether regions. Having lived through it once, I urge you, please, do not recycle this trend, and if you do, please go the distance and gouge our eyes out and spare us the horrific flashbacks of our childhoods. I believe I’ve made my point that, as a generation, you’re obsessed with your own genitals. Everyone could agree that Hypercoloring your junk on top of all of it is just excessive, I mean really.

Here’s a scenario that may illuminate this picture as to the mindset of these peeps. You come across an interestingly clad young person with their headphones on, just rocking out. Your interest is piqued and you therefore ask the hipster in question what they’re listening to. Instead of telling you, which would make things entirely too easy, they don this “n’yah n’yah" tone and groan out “It’s probably something you’ve never heard of.”…yeah, you fell for it. Previous generations would just flip you off, but since you’ve come this far, you go stick the other toe over the line and say “Ah come on. Just tell me.”

Then they look at you with a straight face and say “It’s crickets fucking.”

“Really? There’s band called Crickets Fucking?’

“No, it really is crickets…fucking.”

You fell for it. You got played. You may as well just own it. This trap was choreographed before you got there and was staged entirely for the benefit of making you feel out of touch and not to bother with further attempts at trying to relate to them, meanwhile they’re wearing the parachute pants you gave to good will, the grey ones…the ones the cat pissed on…yeah those. That smell never truly washes out, huh? You hated that cat, both then and now.

Did the generations before the millennials use up EVERY single fashion possibility? I sincerely doubt it, and if you stopped whining about how bored you are and found something you genuinely enjoy, I’m sure that your brain would give birth to something new. Instead of showing us that you own the parts with which to conceive something, show us you can.

Mildly Functioning...but vapid...not unlike a zombie, but less interesting

2011-08-03T17:09:00.010-05:00

Let’s nip this in the bud.

Fad, let’s call this a fad.

Hopefully it’s a fad. But as I delve deeper into this topic, I’m beginning to find that this isn’t a fad, but an epidemic.

I’m talking about vapid people.

Rabidly Vapid.

They contribute nothing and drain resources.

In many ways they’re like zombies. The way they stumble about hither and yon...the monosyllabic vocabulary. One could argue the main difference between them and zombies is temperature and dietary habits. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say I’d sooner deal with a zombie than a vapid person if only for the feeling of accomplishment one gets from lobbing something’s head off without fear of Johnny Law coming down on you. Plus, with a zombie, you know what you’re getting into. They’re all after the same thing. At least you know they love you for your brain.

Vapid people should stand up and declare themselves as non participants and then sit back down on the couch and not leave the house ever again.

These days it’s way too easy to not talk to one another directly. And when you fall out of practice, you lose the ability to communicate. It’s like a muscle. A talkie with people muscle.

This summer, I have had a few run-ins with the “recommended homebound.” Allow me to paint you a word picture here. Say your job is a lifeguard. If a stranger (me) comes up to you and says, “Good morning,” or, “Hello,” rolling your eyes and letting out a deep sigh is probably the exact opposite of what you should actually be doing. Texting while on lifeguard duty is, I’m sure, also frowned upon. I get that this job is low-paying and that it’s time out of the day and you’d probably rather be doing other things. If that’s the case, I welcome you to go and do those other things. Perhaps you’re bored with your job or perhaps you’re having difficulty grasping the concept of a lifeguard. I say this because if you did grasp the concept of being a lifeguard, you’d put your phone away and at least make it seem like you might slightly give a shit whether or not any of the swimmers live or die. With zombies, you can count on them diving in to save you, they can’t eat your brain if you’re dead. Brains are so much better fresh. Who wants a dead brain? And since vapid people are brain dead, they’re safe from zombie onslaught…bastards.

These people are apathetic on the best of days and it’s out of control. I would love to sit up on my throne, judging all that I survey and declare, “Yes … yes, this all good. I am awesome, as is all that I gaze upon … we live in a perpetual state of awesome. And those outside are envious and hurt. And that makes me smile.”

No I can’t say that, because it is untrue.

We, as a civilization have made it WAY too easy to not interact with one another. In fact, we go out of our way to shield ourselves from dealing with each other directly. I actually know people, as I’m sure you do too, who won’t pick up their phone, even when you’ve been texting back and forth and you decide, “Screw it, I’ll just pick up the phone and talk to this shmoe.” Sounds reasonable, right? Wrong. Thanks to the cell phone. You can order entertainment, pay bills, forage for food and dump people without uttering a peep much less a “thank you” or in the case of dumping, "fuck you".

To illustrate this conundrum, please allow me to point out the craze of “planking.” If you don’t know what this is, it’s the idea of taking a picture of yourself, expressionless and face down, lying on your stomach, stiff as board. It’s a real thing, really. Um … huh? Perhaps getting older is turning me into a humorless codger, but honestly, a picture of a person contributing nothing except a faint pulse isn’t something that I’d like to stash in a book of precious memories somewhere. Because everything eventually evolves into something else, “owling” has sprung forth from planking, like this ridiculous non-exercise needed a sequel. These activities involve nothing but mimicking a corpse or squatting like a primate giving birth.

But I digress. These are merely the results of an oxymoronically thriving vapid culture. (Vapid. It’s one of my favorite words. It is almost onomatopoetic.)

How do I know if I’m vapid?

Perhaps this example will give you an idea as to the sorts of so-and-so's I’m talking about. I ride my bike to work because A) gas is stupidly expensive these days, B) It keeps me in shape, C) I can park anywhere. That said, I ride like my hair’s on fire. If I have to slam on my brakes to avoid greasing your oblivious ass because you’re texting or chatting on the phone when you’re crossing the street, then you’re clearly part of the problem and this should be seen a green light to start harvesting your organs. At least then we could perhaps save the life of someone whose sole purpose involves more than rolling their eyes or whining about what they’re being asked to do.

A Quick Word to the Vapid

The world is here to engage you, if you are uninterested in interacting, don’t venture out into it. Loping around like the living dead is a waste of everyone’s time. I urge you to stop treating your brothers and sisters of this planet like cardboard cut-outs to be used like vending machines.

I know we should feel graced because you decided to show up. The reality of it is this: Go home.

And if you stroll into my path, you either have a death wish or you aren’t entirely here to begin with. I go fast and get irritated with folks who slow me down. There’s probably a metaphor for life in there somewhere, but whatev.

Yup, I’m that guy.

Breaking the Cycle of Douche-Baggery

2011-07-14T17:13:00.007-05:00

So here it is. If you’re reading this, then you are clearly not included in the group that I’m referring to. Someone has either told you about this blog or you were ambitious enough to ferret it out on your own…so yay, you!

I’m going to start out by requesting that you, as bright people, put down your books or whatever project you’re doing and go and make children.

Please.

Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Go.

Okay, well get around to it at your earliest opportunity and I’ll go ahead and thank you in advance.

Thanks for that.

If you’ve already created babies, thanks and junk. That was pretty neat.

Before I get this ball a-rollin’, let it be noted that I don’t have a problem with kids. Kids are great. Love kids. Some parents just need to be stopped, perhaps sterilized.

Let me just start out by saying that the human race is getting dumbed-down by the idiots who view making babies as a sport or vehicle to be taken seriously. We are being assaulted by douche-bags, ass-hats and dildo-heads by way of over-breeding. The crossbreeds of the aforementioned group are ass-bags, douche-heads and dildo-hats, but results tend to vary. The movie Idiocracy illustrates this point pretty well. In essence, we’re being overrun by morons.

Let me elaborate by giving an example of my point.

If you come up to me, a stranger, and ask me to touch your pregnant belly, don’t get all miffed when I say “Jesus, no! Why would I want to do that?” And since you brought it up, if you make it a habit of asking strangers to touch your body, any sort of mystery as to how you ended up pregnant has been solved…fer sher. After the gestating stooge is born, hopefully he won’t be genetically predisposed to be the poster child for inappropriate touching…fingers crossed on that one.

Furthermore, during this pregnancy, “the pregnancy” is the only topic of conversation that these moron parents-to-be seem to have. They’ll prattle on an on about how:

“Oh, I’m sooo…sick of being pregnant…ugh….” In actuality it’s probably the only conversational arrow you’ve got in that quiver of yours…so I’m sure it’s a mixed blessing when the baby finally falls out of you.

“Well we’re trying to decide on whether or not to go to a hospital or…” Totally uninterested, have it in a public pool for all I care.

“We’re trying convert our home office into the baby’s room…so we’re painting…but we don’t know what colors to go with because we’ve decided to not know the sex of the baby and be surprised…” Paint the walls red, like they’re bleeding.

This situation from there just goes from bad to worse when the kid’s born. In this particular case, the dick now has the one track of conversation which has shifted from “the pregnancy” to “the baby” and seeks out other fresh parents to have it. If you are not one, you are spoken to in this condescending “there there” tone. It’s thrilling. They look at you like your opinion or existence is less than valid due to your lack of offspring. “You don’t get it, you don’t have kids.” This example proves the fact that having children doesn’t make you a good person, before you were a dick, now you’re a dick with potential dicklets…wonderful…well done.

“We don’t go out anymore…because of the baby.” It’s like pointing at the cold sore on your lip and mentioning your boyfriend/girlfriend…

Say, by chance, you happen to have come across these scribblins and you’re one of the morons in question. Please know there are those of us who are annoyed by you anyway. It’s because you’re a jerk, or a tool, or any of the aforementioned epithet at the beginning of this blog. So I pose the question, is it fair to have the people whom you irritate mandatorily participate in throwing you a baby shower? If you’re a dick, why should I celebrate the successful passing on of your genes? Are you shitting me? It’s like throwing a pool party for the fact that the Earth just woke up with a fresh zit on its ass.

I'm just say'n.

There is a sliver of hope in this situation. Many children rebel at some point, which means that the world could be spared the bleak future I assume we’re destined for, but I’d sleep much more soundly if more smart and considerate people had more smart and considerate kids.