Please let me make the introductions. Complete Lack of Accountability meet Free-loading Entitlement Whore.
And then there was California. WTF. Are you kidding me.
"Parents do not have a constitutional right to home school their children," Justice H. Walter Croskey wrote in a Feb. 28 opinion for the 2nd District Court of Appeal.
Interesting how the government has dulled the blade of this two-edged sword.
A 13-year-old student in Ohio was suspending for doing what 43% of all 13 year olds do: pull pranks, make sex jokes, and disrespect authority figures. So how exactly can the school justify expelling the kid? And how close to the truth must M.O. have gotten for Principle Jeff Cook to get so bent? These are the questions that apparently only our legal system can answer.
Seriously Jeff. One of two things has happened:
A. You had no idea when you got into education that kids think all teachers and principals are dicks or bitches. Now your entire view of the public education system, society, and our children is forever tainted.
or
B. You understand kid's views on teachers and principles and you're just too much of a hard ass to handle this in the proper way (sans the Purple Penetrator). A good principle, like Ed Rooney, would let this one go. Then, with hope-filled anticipation, you'd wait for the future felon to make a mistake on school grounds.
Alas, there are not enough Ed Rooney's in the world. Welcome to the 21st century Mr. Cook, you ass-grabbing, dildo-loving pedophile. You should have left this disciplinary matter to the parents. Who in turn should have put down their Old Milwaukees, turned off the TV, and explained to little M.O. exactly why what he did was disrespectful, inappropriate, and just plain wrong. How this type of thing gets into our court systems is beyond me.
What we have here are multiple nominations for asshat of the week.
I know many of you were wondering, what happened to Uncle Jimbo? It's quite simple actually. I was traveling the world in search of truth, American Justice, and the secret ingredient to KFC. (You know, the ingredient that makes you crave the stuff once a year despite the fact that you've puked the last five times you've eaten it.)
Don't believe me? Good, I wouldn't either. Fact is, while I've had comments on a bunch of different things the following issues got in the way:
A) My life
B) Specifically, my family
C) My job (yeah I know, "what the hell?")
D) A lack of sarcastic response
Little did I know that I was being impacted by something that afflicts nearly 290 million Americans. Diminished Sarcastic Response Syndrome or DSRS. Nearly all of you have it, and you don't even realize it. I thought I was fine, but guess what? I was right. LOL.
What did you think I was about to break into some infomercial for some drug called Blowmax that would increase my sarcastic response? Please. You either have it or you don't. And Uncle Jimbo's still got it. I also think my three year old has it.
We were sitting on the couch the other day talking and he asked me a question about something. So in typical fashion I expounded on the subject in an adult-like, but understandable-to-a-three-year-old way. When I was done he said, "Thanks for explaining that Dad." He's three, with a good sense of humor. I paused. Matter of fact tone? Check. Contextual understanding? Check. Open for interpretation? Check. I had to admit to myself, I may have just been smacked with my sons first sarcasm. Then again, he's a polite boy. He may have been sincere. Either way it was a very proud moment. Polite sarcasm.....
Being hyper-opinionated often leaves me open to attack by those that feel I'm too quick to generalize or stereotype. Well, I'm sorry that you don't like the fact that old people are bad drivers, young woman are psychotic, guys are pigs, and all politicians are drunken sex hounds with the scruples of Charles Mason.
I simply observe the world around me and comment on what I see. The world is too complex a place to not categorize. Sure there are exception to every rule. But for every exception there are a hundred thousand examples of typical-ness.
Let's take Chytoria Graham as an example. It wasn't long ago that I was extolling the "virtues" of clueless parents who were stuffing their kids in car trunks. Well Chytoria here has raised the bar. This sick bitch used her own flesh and blood as a device to inflict physical harm on her "boyfriend".
Indulge me while I play profiler for a minute.
Chytoria Graham, raised (or born into) in a broken home where mom couldn't come up with a 6th girl name so she played Name that Baby with the Scrabble game. Chytoria, ended up on the streets for a few years in her early teens but was able to get herself "straightened out" with a night job at McDonalds, a place to stay with Bubba, and a muffin in the oven.
Chytoria has had more boyfriends than jobs, and she's very thankful that only four of them knocked her up (five times). Drugs are most likely involved and she probably weights under 100 pounds. Welfare has been much easier than making fries, and the addition of baby number five means a sweet little increase in the monthly check. She's a middle rung in the ladder of domestic violence, and this isn't the first time she's abused her children. Seen more as a burden, despite the monthly check, she dehumanizes them and the Circle of Losers begins all over again.
Some reading this might be disgusted by my profiling. To you I say, "wake up." THIS is life in America in the 21st century. Others might say that it's easy for me to be critical, I haven't lived that kind of life. To you I say STFU. There is nothing, in this universe, that could happen to me that would make me pick up a child (let alone my own) and wield it like Conan the F'ing Barbarian wields his enormous sword. The lack of respect for human life disgusts me. But Uncle Jimbo, you're not respecting Chytoria. I respect all people's right to breath, right up until they do something that proves they don't share this same basic moral code. Then all bets are off. In fact, Erie, PA isn't that far away from Uncle Jimbo. I should pay Miss Graham a visit. I'll pick her up, take her down to the local park and hit some batting practice using her as my bat.
This behavior will NOT stop until we take a serious look at the entitlement programs in America and fix them so that they encourage fewer children, provide work for welfare programs, and generally make it simplier to break the cycle. People are lazy, selfish pricks. If they can get free money they'll do it, if they can't they'll probably just steal something. But we should do everything in our power to give them that choice.
It's only a matter of time until scientists isolate the gene that compels people to live in double-wides, put their muscle cars on blocks for years at a time, and perform seemingly senseless acts of bad parenting.
Just another example. Apparently their trunk was full of Old Milwaukee empties or they could have brought the kids along. Jerry must be so proud.
"I didn't think I'd be gone that long...", hey you dumb skank those are your children.
Must run for office. Must get mandatory sterilization bill passed. Must control Fist of Death.
It's rare that I feel compelled to change the way I live my life, especially just because everyone else is making a resolution to improve themselves. But Uncle Jimbo has been doing some soul searching and figured it might be a good idea to try to become a softer, gentler Uncle Jimbo. My son is getting to the age where he absorbs everything I do. During Christmas with my family my neice, who is notorious for using questionable language, dropped a couple of warning shots across my sons bow. That was enough for me to warn her that he listens to everything and copies everything. To which my son started shouting, “copy, copy, copy….” The last thing I need is to have him see the jaded, pessimistic side of his father. So this year I resolved to improve my attitude towards others. People I know and people I don’t.
That lasted all of about 56 hours. My wife and I were grabbing some quick lunch at the grocery store and proceeded to the Express Checkout (7 items or less). The woman in front of us put a couple of things on the belt, so I put our food down, it moved towards the cashier. Then she pulled a couple of more things out of a now visible mini-cart and placed them right next to our food, so grabbed our food and pulled it back towards us. She continued to pull an item at a time out of the cart and put it on the belt so that the belt continually ran and I had to hold our stuff at the end of the belt. Three, four…..five, six…..seven, eight. Yeah great, another knuckle dragger that can’t read a simple sign. Nine, ten…..eleven, twelve….the items kept coming. Thirteen, fourteen….are you kidding me? HELLO, express lane.
It was at that moment I broke my resolution, I turned to my wife and said loud enough for many to hear, “Apparently, someone doesn’t know how to count.” Was it necessary, probably not. But it sure did feel good. I bit my tongue at that point and resisted the urge to continue to express myself. So the cashier finished scanning the 23rd item and declares, “The total is $42.90.”
At which point the woman just stands there, staring. Like Michael Moore at the all-you-can-eat buffet when the hotdog tray is empty. “How would you like to pay for that?” says the cashier. “Cash” is the simple response. Still standing, still staring. “The total is $42.90.” At which point the woman reaches into her wallet and extracts 3 one dollar bills. “$42.90,” the cashier clarifies. The woman reaches into an envelope and pulls out two twenties. She finally moves on. Later we watch her completely rearrange what bags each of the items were in.
But here is my dilemma, should I be more pissed at the dumb-ass old woman who doesn’t understand the basic principles of the Express Lane, or the cashier who, seeing this woman and her cart loaded down with 23 items coming into her lane, failed to wave the woman off and explain to her in kind and very small words that she needs to find a non-Express Lane for checkout. Or should I just blame myself for somehow always finding the slowest of all Express Lanes. It must be karma.
It was then that I realized why most people can’t keep their resolutions. They set the bar too high. I was trying to be nicer to everyone. So I modified my resolution so that only a single person will be the benefactor of my improved attitude. If it works out, I’ll try adding another person next year. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. That’s what got me into trouble the first time around.
Generally, entertainment for kids these days is very lacking. You've got the old stand-bys like Sesame Street, but there's a whole lot of crap out there too like Teletubbie, Barney, and any of that crap Lucas puts out that’s supposed to be “for kids.”
As my son gets older and we get past the basic ABC's and 123's books, I’ve found some real gems that are great for kids and are entertaining for adults as well. Here are a few of my personal favorites.
Pierre Bear by Richard Scarry
Normally a story about a guy named Pierre needs to end in his fiery demise. But this frenchie is a bear, which is totally cool. Plus he lives by himself up in the north country and lives off the land. First Pierre spends his days hunting the dangerous moose. Then he makes his annual trip into town where he finds a woman that will marry him without the need for multiple dates, flowers, or any of the other crap that goes along with courting down here below the artic circle. I'm pretty sure he'd have been okay if she just wanted to shack up, but since it's a kids book I let this plot flaw go. So he takes her home to check out his ultra-hip taxidermied head collection and, before you know it, they have a little bear. Once the cub is old enough to hold a rifle, they both head out to hunt fur seals. BANG! They shoot the biggest one dead and drag him home. They all love their new fur coats and everyone (except the moose and fur seal) live happily ever after. Kick-ass. Thanks Richard.
Yertle the Turtle by Dr. Seuss
For those of you working for a big company, you really need to get familiar with this story. It’s about an executive manager, named Yertle, who thinks he’s better than everyone else because he’s…an executive manager. So he comes up with this “great” plan to make himself look good and uses everyone underneath him to try to make it work. But like most plans developed by upper-management, it all falls apart because he has no clue how to motivate and inspire the people that work for him. Ultimately he ends up with mud all over his face and nothing to show for it. The hero of the story is Mack. He’s the hero because he does what’s best for the entire company. I would have preferred if he hadn’t been passive aggressive about it, but it works none-the-less. Rating: 4.5 out of 5.
Sometimes I Like To Curl Up in a Ball by Vicki Churchill and Charles Fuge
This book kicks-ass because it’s about a wombat. Period. Doesn’t matter what they do they’re cool. They are the anti-French.
Sneetches and other stories by Dr. Seuss
This is a great story that includes racial bias, the desire to “fit-in”, and someone that makes a boat-load of money off both. I won’t give away any of the plot, but I will say that Sylvester McMonkey McBean is a brilliant entrepreneur capable of acquiring wealth from the truly stupid. If you’ve never read it, get yourself a copy. There’s also a cool spook story about a haunted pair of pale green pants.
We all have a lot to learn from talking trains and cat's that wear hats.
No, not Dodgeball. There isn't much that can actually turn my stomach but this story did. Apparently trips in car trunks wasn't enough.
Children Found In Cages.
When I started this whole thing I figured I would get a couple of laughs (because, like Dennis Miller, I believe it's a lot of fun to laugh at your own material) and have a little fun posting the thoughts that ramble around in my head. Next thing you know, I have over 100 page views. Now mind you, some of those are me verifying the site after a post, and some of them are probably Col. Mustard who accidentally selected the bookmark for Sarcasm Inc instead of his intended left-handed web site of the week, but still, people are actually reading this silly thing.
Hello...McFly? Most of you know who's writing this stuff and yet you still come to read it. This must be what Lucas feels like most of the time. Well, if you keep reading I'll keep writing.
And, fathers, welcome back to reality. Hope you had a great day and that you were able to celebrate it with the children you know you have. I've been working with Hallmark to create Who's My Father's Day (sponsored by the NBA) where "father-less" children everywhere can have their own special day to pester their mothers about who their father is, and why they're 6 feet tall in the 5th grade. Since most of these kid's birthdays are in the off-season, Hallmark is thinking that a corporate sponsorship of All-Star weekend would bring a nice balance to the children's lives and would work nicely as a lead in for this new holiday.
Having kids you don't know about is Fantastic.
These are the people I would go to prison over if I ever saw them doing something like this. If I'm the parent of the child that was not hers, I'm renting a car, shoving Lorena Lucas in a trunk, and driving straight to the fast ferry terminal. Then I get out, rap on the trunk and say, "I'll be back for the next ferry trip. You dumb b^$@%."
Had a recent discussion with my wife and a friend about classic comedies. Fact: Real Genius, although a funny movie, is not a classic comedy. Fact: This is a classic comedy.
This should only be considered a sport if they have snipers placed along the race path. There aren't many animals that I would personally like to help towards extinction but this is one of them. We had a lot of them at our old house and we thought we escaped them when we moved. Doesn't one show up and land in our pine tree while we're sitting on the porch. The thing just starts cooing at me like, "ha, found you."
Which reminds me of my best pigeon story ever. One day in the middle of winter I see, through our family room window, a fat (Ophra fat) hawk sitting on a tree branch. I think to myself, how is that thing so fat? I see him several times over the next several weeks until one day, after the snow had melted, I was walking down the driveway to get the mail. As I pass the area where the pigeons roost on the phone lines I look underneath a small pine shrub. And there is the most beautiful thing I've seen all year...a little pigeon grave yard. Bones and feathers everywhere. The remains of many pigeons. It was fantastic (more like NBA fantastic than Fantastic Four fantastic). I knew immediately how our neighborhood hawk was maintaining that Michael Moore waistline. It was a very happy day for me.
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