Sunday, November 20, 2005

Generation P

Yes I am of that special age where it is time for me to start telling younger generations how they are dicking everything up.  We certainly did raise a fine crop of pussies, I must say. For instance, riding a bike.  Never wore a helmet.  The only kid that wore a helmet was that little retarded boy (oh shit, you can’t say retarded!!! He/she is “Special”) that kept banging his head on the floor - although after 29 years of marriage I am about to get my own helmet.  Never read one word of anyone egregiously injured because they didn’t wear a helmet.  We took our lumps, and the pain was a good teacher.  You fall off your frikkin’ bike a couple times and that skinned knee is good incentive to be more careful.  A little iodine and a “Supid Ass!” from mom and we were good to go.  Try keeping some iodine in medicine cabinet and you’ll suddenly notice junior is getting a lot fewer “boo-boos”.


You always new when you had dicked it up.  No time outs, no re-direction (unless you count the old man redirecting his boot to your ass), no “You have to be positive”.  We got a warning, usually, and if we persisted dad applied corrective measures.  This was a lesson that stuck with you – I re-iterate, pain is a good teacher.  Now Generation P (for pussy) sends junior to his room to play video games and watch tv.  Bottom line is no repercussions =no lesson learned = junior grows up to be a regular on cops (the one without the shirt and with all the tattoos).  I am not advocating curbstomping the kid or using a 9 iron – use what little judgment mom and dad may have bequeathed you. Also, bear in mind you may be stronger now, but it ain’t always going to be that way, best not to foster any ill feelings that come back to haunt you when you are old and feeble.

If you were going to do something malicious, say give the neighbor kid’s bike a ghost ride down the stairs at school, you made damn sure you wouldn’t get caught before you lofted the bike.  Or redecorate your asshole neighbor’s roof with rotten fruit or dog shit.

You need to let your pride and joy make some decisions without the safety net and accept the consequences of his of her actions.  I am not saying let the kid take Dad’s .357 to school, use what few brains genetics allowed you. The kid’ll learn you do something good you may get some praise (most likely you’ll be ignored because everyone is busy dealing with the kid that thinks he’s a gansta), or if you do something bad there is an ass-whipping in your immediate future.  Pay attention to junior, do things with him, read to him and do everything in your power to make sure he grows up with a strong concept of good and bad. If it comes to spending money on your kid or that new nail through your forehead/tattoo on your huge ugly wife’s face (no shit, you can see these women wandering around “down to the Wal-mart”.  Oh and honey, comes a time in life where that bare midriff thing just ain’t makin’ it – or can’t you find a shirt that fits over that extra stomach?) And for God’s sake don’t expect the public schools to fix your mistake.  You dicked him up, you straighten him out, and then send him to school.