Baby Talk

I have to admit,

I can find
other people’s kids
a bit annoying
at times ….

( i’m not talking
about little babies –
even though some
of the illustrations
on today’s post might
lead you to think
otherwise….
but nope.)

.. and maybe the
irritation I feel
about certain
kiddie winkies
is pretty normal for
someone who used
to travel as much
as I did.

The ones I have in mind
seem to try to get under
your skin whether they
know you or not .

.. and since they’re
somebody else’s problem,
you hesitate to administer
what would otherwise be
patently called for..

— the hearty whack on the
ass and a loud ‘stop doing
that’.

Basically, you have to
resort to call them a
‘little ratbag’ under
your breath and leave
it pretty much at that..

Although sometimes
I think the father
(when available/identified)
should be liable to pay the
consequences of the child’s
lack of discipline.

A good
‘how’s your father’,
or similar.

Ah,
sweet justice.

Not that I was an angel
when I was a kid –

No, far from that,
but my parents
had the situation
well and truly
handled when
I acted up
in public.

Man,
you ain’t jest
whistlin’ Dixie.

Faster than
a speeding bullet –
my father’s hand
would descend and
give me the painful
instant karma I was so
obviously begging for.

If you don’t learn it
when you’re a kid,
you’re not gonna wanna
learn it later, and
discipline is something
we all should understand,
for the whole society’s
sake.

But sometimes,
I guess, kids are ok.

And today, we have
postcards featuring
( a few ) adorable kids
(if it’s possible to put
those two words together
and not form some kinda
oxymoronic improbability) .

Oh wait…
my kids were adorable,
so it is possible.

I was not adorable.

So, thank heaven
there must be
nothing to that whole
genetics thing.

Assuming…

well, that’s probably
not gonna help me any.

!! HOY !!

.

Advertisements

Help! Santa Got Me

I’ve got nothing
against Santa, man.

When you really
get down and think
about it…..

the whole buzz
on the street about him
having a ‘thing’ for
reindeer —

and his rather peculiar way
of breaking into people’s
houses in the middle of the
night —

not to mention that thing
you saw Mama doing to
Santa under the mistletoe
that night —

doesn’t over-ride the
most important aspect
of the holiday —

— getting lots of
presents.

Hey,
I heard the reindeer like it,
and it’s worth a glass of milk
and a crummy cookie or two,
ain’t it ?

But truthfully, if there’s
one holiday job that there
ain’t enough money in the
world to pay me to do –

It’s the job of
department store Santa.

Sure, I know
what you’ve heard–
that they’re really all
Santa’s helpers
from the North Pole.

But, that’s
just bullshit.

Yes, not only are
those guys imposters —

but they’re actually
miserably paid temporary
workers in ill fitting costumes…

— who probably don’t even
get enough health insurance
to protect them from
catching heaven-knows-what
from those disease-carrying
screeching rugrats that strange
people keep shoving onto
their laps for a lousy
photo opp.

(I wonder if the real Santa
knows about all this….. )

I’m not that crazy about
kids, anyway…..

I love my own,
but other people’s
— I can definitely do without.

And having to go to work
day after day, knowing
that one or more of those
little bastards will be
sitting on my lap while
they scream bloody murder
in my ear, piss their (and
thus, mine) pants and try
to pull off the cotton wool
glued to my face ?

Fuck that.

It’s amazing you don’t hear
of more about guys doing
that job going ape-shit
postal at the Outlet or
the Fashion Square,
ya know ?

Man, you talk about
sainthood —
those guys deserve it.

Even if they are
impostors
and all.

!!! HOY !!!

.

The Kids Are Alright

qantasOh sure,
I know….

Kids are adorable.

That’s easy for
you to say now.

After one of them
kicks the hell out
of the back of your
seat for an entire
Pan-Pacific flight,
you might see them
in a slightly differentapunch
light,
but ok, fine.

And actually,
so do they

See things in a
different way, I mean.

Many of us believe in a2
a ‘simpler is better’ doctrine,
including myself….

— and kids certainly understand
the world in a much more
undemanding way.

You can’t fault em for that.

Well, you can’t anyway.
amoney
Still, puppies seem
much more reasonable to me.

From the canine’s
perspective,

Poop on the carpet –
you risk the dreaded
rolled up newpaper.

So, as a responsible puppy,
you scratch at the door and
wag your tail to say —
“hey, work with me, here.”

But babies– ajackie

they’ll piss on you
while you’re still
changin’ their
damned diapers–
and look you right in
the eye while they’re
doing it —
— they don’t care.
akarate
New carpet?

To a dog –
it’s a danger sign.

It even smells
like trouble.
So they avoid it.

Kids?

Awww–
let me just barf
up some green beans
and stewed prunes all over it,
–just to break it in right, ok?

You give a dog atooth
nice juicy bone,
you get licked
into next week.

Give a kid a nice present,
like a pair of cool sneakers,
and all he wants to know
is when he’ll get to wear out
the back of your airplane consw
seat with them…

Damn seat-kickin’ ingrates,
if you ask me.

Blech.

To abruptly and drastically
change the subject, shoes
though —

Did anybody watch
the Puppy Bowl?

Go Team Ruff.

Hey, Team Fluff
was pretty cute,
though, right ?

Just sayin.

buy