Monday, August 18, 2008

Dear Idiot Parents

You know what average intelligence means?

It means that about half the population is above normal in intelligence - and about half are just plain booger eating morons.

As near as I can tell without instrumentation, stupidity is an attractor. In any crowd, if one person does something stupid it is inevitable that the other mouth breathers in the group will follow suit. This is how you get cattle into a slaughterhouse, e.g. you only have to get the first one to walk in the door - all the rest will follow just to see what the first one is doing.

Stupidity is also logarithmically additive. In other words, two stupid people are three times as stupid as just one idiot alone. Three stupid people are nine times more likely to spontaneously implode into a black hole of clueless dumbass, than just one pointy haired dipshit by himself. And so on.

Stupid people shouldn't breed, but they do. Oh yes, they do. Which means there are more of them every day. They've got books, with lots of pictures to be sure, but books nonetheless. You've seen them: Parenting for the Compete Idiot - frankly, I think that if you've got publish a book to tell idiots how to raise kids, well there are too many idiots having kids. That's what I'm saying here.

What brings me to this startling scientific observational rant you ask?

The first day of school, what else?

The first day of the new school year should be a moment of joy, a moment of peace and tranquility, with singing birds and bright sunny skies. That's how God intended it. Leave to it to the morons to turn the first day of school into a teeth grinding exercise in fist-of-death clenching.

Attention idiot parents:

1) Your kid is not special. He may be special to you, but the rest of us regard him as nothing more than just another pimply faced, baggy pants wearing iPod transport system with a goofy haircut. Hug him before you leave the house; the drop-off line is not a place for teary-eyed long goodbyes. Remember, in much less than a decade you'll be happy to send him off to an out of state college, and you won't even care what subject he majors in - just as long as he's out of the house and you can convert his room into that astral projection and herbal healing den you've always wanted.

2) There are four hundred other people behind you in the drop-off line. All of them are waiting on you. When you get to the front of the line, open the door, push little Johnny HI-tops in the small of the back, close the door, drive away. Stopping is not actually necessary. Kids are flexible and they heal fast and it's important that they lean the "tuck and roll" technique early in life. Best to learn by doing, experience is the best teacher.

3) Pack the school supplies before you leave home. Do not, under any circumstances, wait until you are in the front of the drop-off line to put four reams of paper, two packs of pencils, highlighters, paperclips, calculator, IED, a sandwich, an apple, two bags of chips, a soda, spare iPod batteries, condoms, pistol, crack pipe, and a partridge in a pear tree into the dammed backpack. Remember, it's a tactical egress, tuck around the backpack, jump feet together knees bent, and roll.

4) I know, I know - it's little Sally Hotpants' first day in sixth grade, and you're just so dammed proud to drop her off in her new junior-miss wonder training bra and low riders with her bony little ass-crack whistling in the breeze. But for the love of all that is holy, could you please wait until you're out of the school loading zone before dialing your cell phone to tell grandma all about it? There are kids and cars filled with other clueless morons just like you, milling about in chaotic confusion and the truth of the matter is that you're an idiot under the best of circumstances, leave the phone on the seat and use what little brain power and concentration you have to clear the scene.

5) Those three great big signs in front of the loading zone? Yeah, those don't say, "Hey, if you need to go inside because you were too dammed stupid to come to the orientation meeting we had the other night, park here." What they actually say is, "NO PARKING. Handicapped Bus Drop Off Zone." See, when the special needs buses pull up at 7:00AM, and there are three of them, they need to be able to park along the special curb so that they can unload the kids in wheelchairs. When you park there, even "just for a minute" (which in idiot time is about a half an hour) you leave the buses no place to unload. Since they can't pull over to the curb, they have to stop in the middle of the drop-off zone, which blocks all the traffic behind them for the fifteen or twenty minutes it takes to find your dumb ass so you can move your car. Unless you want me to put you into a wheel chair eating soup through a straw for the rest of your life, don't park there. No, really, I'm not joking.

6) You there, in the back of the drop-off line. In the blue Honda Pilot. Yes, you, the mousy pinched face brunette. I understand, you're in a hurry, you're late for work, you're special, you're important. Screw you, so am I. Stay in line. The next time you pull out of formation and drive up the shoulder to the front and drop your kid off on the left side of the loading zone so she has to walk through two streams of moving cars to get to the curb, I will make you permanently late for work. Understand? If your kid survives to adulthood, it'll be no thanks to you, you stupid, self absorbed, self centered cow. And that goes for the rest of you bovinated cud chewers, just because Mouse Face did something stupid, doesn't mean that you should follow her. She's not showing initiative or leadership here, she being a selfish asshole, and so are you if you follow her. Remember the example above, cows, slaughterhouse.

Seriously, parents, let's try to look a little more educated, wise, and experienced than the pre-teens we're dropping off, shall we? Kids are supposed to be clueless, you on the other hand are supposed have just a bit more sense. You see because even though stupidity is often hereditary, it's not genetic, it's environmental. Monkey see, monkey do. And if you don't want your kids to turn out like little clueless baboons, well then you need to get a clue yourself.

Seriously, shape the hell up - or I'm going to start cracking heads.


  1. Okay. Hijacking ensues. You asked for it. Asshole. :)

    Jim faithfully wears a shirt and tie to his office cubicle every morning. He attacks his overflowing inbox with enthusiasm, whistling while he enters claims into his computer. Every evening, he calmly and politely maneuvers his econocar through rush hour traffic, eager to get home to his wife, child, poodle, and their dinner of frozen fish sticks and canned peas. After dinner he relaxes, watching sitcoms while his wife cleans house. Sometimes, after taking his anti-psychotic medication, he looks at himself in the mirror and wonders what life would have been like if he'd joined the navy instead.

  2. I so want to attend a PTA meeting when Jim's in attendance.

    Seriously. Hee!

  3. And do I post my headline here, or are you going to open another thread?

  4. Jim will you take my children to school on their first day...never mind...will you take ME to my first day....there won't be parents there, but those young adults scare me even more.....shudder.

  5. I'll open another thread. Just a dammed minute.


  6. Sounds like you had a good morning.

  7. Wonderful, Matt, wonderful.

    But, it's shaping up.

  8. Jim, we need to be pro-active to solve this problem. Can't we just put our heads together and figure out a way to prevent idiots from breeding in the first place?

    Perhaps blow-guns with contraceptive-laced darts? Hopefully, our campaign would be more effective than the one in Africa with elephants.

    I know there are a lot more of them than there are of us, and it's too late to prevent the ones that are already out there, but we have to start somewhere.

  9. I think the answer to your problem is included in your rant.

    Clueless parents are genetically incapable of following any kind of directions, be they verbal or on signs. You need to post some signs saying that no one should drive in the left lane because there are land mines there. Make sure there are some. Problem solved.

    I just about pissed myself reading this. I could just see the foam building at the corners of your mouth. (And if you don't want us taking pleasure in your agony, then just don't be so damned funny about it.)

  10. I'm with Sheila, proactive that is.

    I mean for crying out loud, we make people take a test before they can drive, there's a waiting period to buy a gun - but any idiot can have kids.

    We're already hip dip is morons, something needs to be done. Now.

    Where'd I put my Emperor of the Universe hat?

  11. Jim, I think you might want to consider putting down the power tools, cranking up the music and having a beer or two.

    Or three or four.

  12. Good idea, Michelle, a couple of cold beers, then conquest and weeding out the gene pool. I'm hearing what you're saying and I'm liking it.

  13. Not for nothing, but I've heard that mixing beer with "weeding out the gene pool" (great metaphor, that), can sometimes boomerang on you.

    Just sayin' is all.

  14. Oh yeah. Preach it Brother Wright. And can I add another one for those of us with kids in Elementary School?:

    All right ex-Miss Bumfuck Falls. We already know you value looks over learning because of the way you dress going to school. (And by the way, my 3 year old son did not need to know what color bra you're wearing). Putting the same tarted-up shit on your kid is just wrong.

    I really wouldn't give a shit what your spawn wears to school, except that she has to sit in close proximity to my daughter on occasion. That means that when she wears shorts and a see-though blouse to school on a cold, rainy Monday morning, she'll have a cold by Tuesday, my kid will have one by Wednesday, and I'll have one by Friday.

    My kid's not one to want to be a girly-girl, but others who are now want to emulate your snot nosed (literally, now) brat, making the problem even worse.

    Years ago I might have enjoyed a figuring out just how cold you are in that outfit by the state of your nipples, but right now all I want to do is wrap you up in a fur-lined straightjacket and force feed you twinkies until the rest of your body grows into something that might possibly grow natural gazongas the size of your fake ones.


  15. I'm with you Jim, except that if you're drinking, I get to carry the guns.

    Fair is fair, right?

  16. Michelle, accident wise, is there any statistical difference between Jim drunk and you sober carrying loaded firearms?


  17. You guys are SO freaking mean to Michelle! She's going to bake ex-lax into your brownies someday and you will be in some SERIOUS trouble.

    She's from West (by God) Virginia, where firearms are a fact of life. It's not that different from Alaska, and a far piece more rugged than that bleeding-heart blue bedroom state you live in, John. ;)

  18. Jeri,

    you make a good point, but Michelle would never eat stinky tofu.

    It's boy crap. On this sort of inconsequential shit...we win.

    OTOH, I'd never show up on Michelle's porch unannounced.

  19. She started it.

    And you've never seen me drunk, not in twenty years anyway. I may have one beer, sometimes two, but that's the limit.

    As the Grand Master Robert Anson Heinlein once said, never drink to excess - it spoils your aim. Wise, he was.

  20. And John, amen brother.

    I wasn't even going to mention that - the 12 year olds dressed, as you said, like tarts. Holy freakin' crap, Man, I don't think Tammy Faye wore as much Spackle and Latex as some of these young girls. And seriously, is it just me or does anybody else find a twelve year old girl in falsies and low riders just a bit disturbing. When did this shit start happening - and more importantly does the way I feel about the situation make me officially old?

  21. Jeri,

    The mean boys will get theirs. Never fear.

    And it's strange. I somehow seem to have developed the persona of annoying little sister that leads guys everywhere to pick on me.

    Though given the alternatives, I'm good with that.

  22. As the Grand Master Robert Anson Heinlein once said, never drink to excess - it spoils your aim. Wise, he was.

    Actually, he said was "Be wary of strong drink. It can make you shoot at tax collectors -- and miss."

    When quoting the Grand Master, thou shalt quote him correctly.

  23. Well, hell, Vince, I was drinking...

    Beware of strong drink, it may make you misquote the Grand Master, oops

  24. It's moments like that, where my thumb keeps hunting for the missing 50cal trigger or missile release, that I remember I didn't get the Q-branch sports package on my little Honda. Mores the pity.

    "And seriously, is it just me or does anybody else find a twelve year old girl in falsies and low riders just a bit disturbing. When did this shit start happening - and more importantly does the way I feel about the situation make me officially old?"

    That would be when Brittany Spears was considered wholesome while pole-dancing with a snake (which I believe was when she was 16, and I'm not kidding here, had that conversation with in-law siblings that for some of her videos I used to visit strip-clubs that had more class). And it makes you feel old because of the instantaneous eyeball reaction of males to trailer trash. That first second of "Hey... MY EYES, MY EYES, OMG I'm blind!" And no, they didn't make them like that when we were that age.

    And I'm not coming around if Random Michelle gets guns. I used to live in West By God (6 months in Vienna, near Parkersburg). I know the women there are the better shots.

  25. When it comes to low riders, I really prefer the type that the US men's swim team wears. :D

  26. When it comes to low riders, I really prefer the type that the US men's swim team wears. :D

    But how the heck do they stay on while they swim at those speeds? Inquiring minds, and all that...

    My daughter's 1st day of kindergarten is one week from today. I can't imagine how this will play out here in Bethesda, MD. It is the home of "The Bethesda Mom" a scary subspecies of female parent that feels no qualms about elbowing 4 year-old girls out of the way to get her kid to the front of the line. I so don't fit in...


  27. Makes me think I should teach my 15year old step-son how to do a PLF, so he can handle dismounting my jeep on a low level flyby.

  28. Insane parents make insane kids...re-sane the parents, the kids will grow up fine.

    My solution...a boot camp experience for everyone at age 18. They don't have to joing the military per se, just go through boot camp with a bunch of former and retired USMC DI's, Navy Chiefs, and Army Drill Sergeants for six to eight weeks (I left out Air Force...their kinda too polite). Make it the precursor to college entrance.

    Those who wash out of the life boot camp will not receive drivers licenses, or permits to work above the level of fast food and grocery story shopping cart kid.

    As for those who dress their daughters like tarts, what are you thinking? Are you hoping your daughter will get a job as a Bush-Company dancer (that's a strip joint in Anchorage Alaska for you lower-48ers)
    For those parents I recommend...


    Go straight to 30 days detention with a paedophile roomate so they can see who they are encouraging by dressing their twelve year old like a streetwalker.


    I tell my sons, "Boy's, this is why you will one day rule the world...did you clean your weapon today buddy? We don't want no jammed rounds when it all comes down."

    that last bit was joke...I wouldn't actually say that...my kids don't have to be reminded to clean their guns...


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