Heres an article I’ve been thinking of random bits and pieces for over the week, so I’ve decided to compile them and post them. So here it is – 15 things to teach your kid as young as possible – the 15 kinds of things that should never go untaught. Ever.
1) If it ends up in the toilet, its gone forever. FOR. EVER.
2) Don’t touch anything that doesn’t belong to you. Assume everything that isn’t yours is full of spiders and KEEP YOUR GODDAMNED HANDS OFF IT.
3) Walking barefoot in sand will get you hosed the fuck down. With ice cold water.
4) Throwing your food on the floor at home, or the bin at school will get you 1: belted and 2: starved in your room until the next day.
5) Touching a dog and then touching food/other people warrants a hosing down also.
6) The computer is more valuable than you are. Remember this forever.
7) Drinking daddy/mummy’s beer/wine/bourbon while they’re not looking will get you 5 across the eyes.
8 ) Assume every adult you see is a paedophile (except your family, of course).
9) Playing in the kitchen will get you belted. Hard.
10) Playing with the telephone, or a mobile phone will get you double-belted, especially if either of them suddenly disappear.
11) Touching a toilet in any way warrants instant hand washing – with SOAP. NO EXCUSES.
12) Trying to get daddy’s attention while he’s playing videogames/watching a movie will see you locked in your bedroom until the following day.
13) Liars always get found out. Being dishonest will eventually get you belted really hard. It’s much better to tell the truth and accept a small belting up front, than getting found out in the future and being belted until sitting down brings tears to your eyes.
14) Hitting your mother will result in your father hitting you in a way that will teach you not to try that again.
15) Running amok in a shopping centre, or out in public where running amok is generally not acceptable, will result in you having the belting of a lifetime, which doubles in intensity per public outing you misbehave in. Wooden spoons may snap over your arse if belting intensity reaches certain heights.
Print these out and stick them on your fridge, or laminate them and give them to your kids. Make sure you follow through with the epic beltings though, or you’ll look soft, and everybody knows soft parents breed thugs, drug addicts, murderers and general scum!
EOF
If there is anything I am well-known for in most of the communities I frequent, it is the bloodthirst of both my dad and me for small animals. More particularly, the small animals that dare to wander within the relatively broad boundaries of our yard. And recently there has been a wave of brash animals challenging Dad’s territorial claims, and he just won’t stand for it.
First, a bit of explanation. Having acquired our land when the area we live in was fairly undeveloped, we were able to seize a particularly large space of land. That means there is quite a bit of yard to take care of/guard against the forces of evil (animals). And this being rural southern Georgia, you bet your sweet lily ass there are animals waiting to snatch our land out from under our grasp with their filthy claws/hooves.
From the very get-go, Dad waged a campaign against Mother Nature and her furry bastard children. The first to feel the wrath of Angry Middle-Aged White Man were the squirrels; the furred freaks enraged Dad by climbing up the bird feeder and stealing the seeds meant for the adorable cardinals, robins, blue jays, and finches that frequented our birdfeeders. Dad set out wire traps, and like moths to the flame the squirrels practically barreled into the cages to get at the concoction of peanut butter and something else (I don’t recall) placed inside the trap. Once trapped, Dad would proceed to put the squirrel, trap and all, in a plastic garbage bag, attach the opening to the exhaust pipe of his truck, and rev the engine. My brother and I would stand in fascination, as the squirrel’s death scene played out unscene behind plastic bags. It was hauntingly beautiful, listening to the frantic scrabbles slow and then stop, much like a play, as the garbage bag was then dramatically removed to reveal the corpse of the squirrel, frozen in death. Dad would then take the body and throw it in the ditch behind our house. Our next-door neighbor observed the phenomenon with horror and dubbed our house the “Gas Chamber”.
The squirrels took the hint and stopped coming back, for the most part. Then the moles moved in. They were much trickier than the squirrels, for moles are much much harder to trap or even catch. This is when Dad became almost frightingly dedicated to eliminating the Mole Threat. He started tracking the moles; whenever he caught sight of an extremely fresh ‘mole trail’ (dug up ground), he would fetch a golf club and stand by the hole. And he waited. And waited. Sometimes he would be waiting for hours, but he was determined. When one is waiting out a mole, it is imperative that one try to move as little as possible, lest the mole sense the vibrations and veer away. Dad was very good at waiting motionlessly. Eventually he would feel the vibration of the mole returning and as soon as he could discern movement below the earth his golf club would come crashing down. I only glimpsed this almost epic clash twice, not having the patience to wait with Dad. It was an exciting thing; to see Dad, motionless, poised, then suddenly leap into action with a terrifying force. Without fail the mole would pop up, dazed, and Dad would take a chop that would put Tiger Woods to shame. The frail, small body would spiral almost gracefully through the air, blood sprinkling the earth, and land with a gentle thud, only to be picked up and thrown unceremoniously into the ditch to join the cooling bodies of the squirrels.
The moles never really went away, but their numbers dwindled enough so that Dad was not enraged every time he stepped out into the yard. Then the armadillos stepped up to bat. THEY have been Dad’s most infuriating opponent yet. For while moles are largely nocturnal, moles actually pop up rather frequently during the day. Armadillos, on the other hand, absolutely refuse to come out during the day, so Dad had to stalk them at night. They are also extremely fast, so one shot is all you get. Their skin (armor?) is also apparently rather tough, as Dad was forced to cast aside his pellet gun in disgust and take up his shotgun after the pellet merely bounced off the blind fucker. They are supposed to be extremely blind, but they are paranoid little bastards; when Dad sat in the yard just waiting for them to come out, they did not linger long enough for him to get a good shot. They probably smelled him, I guess. This frustrated Dad even further; now he had to stand by the door that opened to the area the armadillos seemed to favor, looking out the window, watching for the motion-sensor light to snap on and reveal the armadillo snuffling about. It was a long, laborious effort; oftentimes there would be nights were the armadillo didn’t come out at all, or came out but only long enough for Dad to rush down the hallway to grab his gun. Then there were the times Dad missed or didn’t hit a vital organ; then Dad had to watch in frustration as the armadillo shot up in the air and then hauled ass back into the forest next to our house. The only aspect in his favor is that armadillos are extremely territorial, so he was only dealing with one or two armadillos. It took two weeks for Dad to get the first armadillo, then its mate the next week. Fortunately it didn’t seem to have reproduced–a very good thing since armadillos have four babies at a time.
The armadillos stayed away until recently; Dad has noticed to his fury the beginnings of another armadillo settling in. I have also noticed the motion-sensor light snapping on during the night, so there is definitely something out there. Squirrels have also been starting to swarm the birdfeeder recently established right in front of the house; these squirrels won’t fall for the traps, so Dad has resorted to killing them face to face. As soon as he sees a squirrel through the window, he goes barreling down the hallway, loads his gun, and creeps out the door and around the corner, usually catching the squirrel unawares. I will often follow, for the thrill of seeing Dad have a classic Gregory Peck moment from To Kill a Mockingbird. The moles have also been making a comeback, moreso than the armadillos, and Dad has already stalked two.
If I ever wrote a memoir, I can bet that there will be at least five chapters dedicated to Dad’s sheer insanity, obnoxiousness (he once called me ‘a bigger faggot than your brother, and given how your brother hasn’t gotten any, that’s saying something. Why don’t you stop eating so much fucking ice cream, goddamn, that’s my ice cream, you’re already fat.’) and bloodlust. I can guarantee there will probably be more posts similar to this one; this Thanksgiving, Dad lamented the fact that he had never opened a morgue/crematorium and made it a family business. “Can’t you see us working together, Edith? Just shoveling in the bodies and making statues out of corpses to put in the bathroom? We could learn taxidermy and make the dogs into statues and put them in your mom’s bedroom. Wouldn’t that be awesome.” My dad is batshit insane and it is fucking awesome.
Quite often when I find myself taking an excessive amount of drugs, of any kinda, usually opiate based as I come down, I seem to experience some quite random auditory hallucinations. Nothing malicious, just random crap. Oddly enough, I usually hear these hallucinations in a female voice rather than a male, or my own voice. Sometimes the voice is high pitched like a young girl, and sometimes its deeper and more sincere like a middle aged woman. Its quite strange. But I still hear the very odd male voice every now and then.
So in this blog post i will list 20 of the sentences I have heard while hallucinating. Some are funny, some are bizarre and some are just plain fucking stupid. But its always fun to listen to them and write down what they are, so here it goes:
1. “Aww SWIMMING, SWIMMING! HOW ABOUT SWIMMING? Well, FISHING FISHING TOO”
2. “Terry can I buy you a drink?”
3. “Louise, Whats the number in a prime set?”
4. “I heard vegemite paste hit the window”
5. “Were the politics centre in the middle of the universe?”
6. “Smells like chicken *giggle*”
7. “Well then get rid of the eye, I hate it”
8. “Haircuts use Wonka cheese”
9. “I’m just terrified of old grey ladies”
10. “Wall decks, did you apply the wall decks? You’re quite silly”
11. “I couldn’t take your mum flowers, I just couldn’t. They’re made by Gypsies”
12. “What do you think? Sugar cube or sweetner?”
13. “*blabber*..and a few things come down to his surgical operation”
14. “You’re up early. Its 9pm and you’re up early. I’m drinking this wine”
15. “Just do it, go, take the high jump”
16. “Caffeine and coffee are the same thing bro, fentanyl is different by far”
17. “The shirt needs more colour in it, the shirt, needs more colour in it, it needs to be stabilised by a molecule”
18. “Princess Margaret might be driving a Rav 4 if she was still alive”
19. “The bed spreads on, I hope the pole doesnt collapse and crush the crinkle”
20. “If I set a date with a camera man….huh…uh….Spaghetti bolognaise”
And thats todays 20, stay tuned for another time in the next couple of days/weeks when I’m hallucinating again and decide to blog post about it.
Off into the wild blue yonder of drug fueled mental madness I go.
EOF.
In honor of Thanksgiving, tonight’s edition of “Bob’s Educational Corner” will be a musical history of the holiday. Unfortunately, Bono had to cancel at the last minute, but we were able to hire a local musical group called “Zombies for Tofu”, who I’m told will sing an original composition they call “Happy Thanksgiving!”. Let’s see if they’re ready.
*Lights dim, spotlight illuminates stage. A greasy mass of hair, tattoos, and piercings takes the mic.* “Hi, we’re ‘Zombies for Tofu.’ Tonight, we’re gonna sing you a song from our new album, ‘Eating Babies For Breakfast’, available now from the trunk of Steve’s mom’s station wagon. Here’s ‘Happy Thanksgiving!’”
Thanksgiving is a time
When the Pilgrims and the Indian people
Got together to kill turkeys
And serve small animals with pie
Satan likes pie
Nobody said that
But everyone there knew it
And then the Indians got smallpox
Given to them by Satan
And also blankets full of smallpox
but mostly Satan
Happy Thanksgiving!
Cause Satan loves pie
Does a lot of shit for pie
He’d kill you for a pie
And then he’d eat your soul
Cause it tastes just like a pie
Though without the creamy toppings
And more soul aftertaste
And I see you baked a pie
Happy Thanksgiving!
Full of pumpkin I presume
Cause you do that for Thanksgiving
So I’m giving thanks to Satan
And now he ate your pie!
That you worked so hard to make!
And he killed off all your house plants!
Cause he’s Satan and he does that!
Happy Thanksgiving!
Happy Thanksgiving!
Happy Thanksgiving!
FROM SATAN!
Bob’s Educational Corner would like to remind everyone that the views expressed by our guests do not necessarily represent the views of this show or this website. Goodnight!
A question far greater minds than my own have tried to answer, to be certain. Never-the-less, as the clock approaches midnight and I stay up futilely hoping that my internet connection will increase ten-fold so I can install Dragon Age tonight rather than tomorrow afternoon, I feel inclined to tackle it. A lot of people would probably say semi-random signals fired in our brain. However, I refuse to subscribe to that philosophy. The Humanists have part of it right, in that we do what we do because it makes us feel good, but that isn’t all of it. I’m inclined to think we do what we do because we can’t decide what we want, and so we spend our lives groping in the dark for what it is that we want, with how good it makes us feel sort of like a game of Hot & Cold, but never really getting even close to it. I’m certain some people have, but they’re few and far between, and often start religious movements trying to tell other people what they’ve found. In the long run, I think everyone’s form of self-realization is going to be different, as unique as people are. Now, I’m going to go to sleep, because I think it will make me feel good. And that’s about the best any of us can hope for.