My Kingdom for Some Pepto!


I’ve had more jobs than Ryan Seacrest and Regis Philbin, combined. When I make that statement, I’m not referring to the 16 that Ryan holds NOW or the record-setting 18 at one time held by the,not so long ago, “King of All things Marginally Entertaining”, Regis. Mr. Philbin, for those of us that think he’s old. No, I’m talking about in my existence as “One who fills out a W-4 and files taxes on a semi-regular basis.” (May I please note at this point, the statement immediately proceeding the parenthesis <– Was meant to be satyrical in nature. I do not wish to be audited,put in prison for a couple years, released, interviewed by a “rag” TV- show, then incarcerated again because my sister doesn’t like me. . . Richard Hatch! You continue to baffle me. No more of your tactical head games, PLEASE! You WON, but sadly now, my friend, you seem to be losing . . . badly) Indeed, if you’re still with me, I’ve had a bunch o’ jobs. Which, I guess, is pretty cool from a “having a lot of life-experience” perspective. As long as I don’t plan on any sort of pension, nest egg or money with which I can send my kids to college, I guess it could be considered the PERFECT CAREER PATH.

All Seriousness Aside. . .
You have to understand, I was almost positive that I was dealing with a little more “time” when it comes to saving for my kids education. That’s exactly why I don’t get all bent out of shape, every other year, when one or two of them get held back in school. . . again. Think about it. One extra helping of mac and cheese at the dinner table each week OR the cost of tuition at the finest community college that money can buy? I think I’ll chuck in the extra 16 dollars a month. And this way I can keep my eye on them until I determine they are “fit” to be released into the general population without constant supervision. It’s just “safer”. . . for all of us. . . believe me. At the current rate of their societal development, I track my 18 year old to be set for “early release” – well past Obama’s second term.
Don’t get me wrong. (I’m not even sure how that could happen) I don’t have “stupid” children. As far as children go on the smarts gauge (developed by Brigham Young University in the spring of whenever Steve Young graduated) I think they fall somewhere between “prophet” and “traveling salesman”. They’re actually quite bright . . . in theory. But also remember that as aPUBLIC SCHOOL BUS DRIVER , I have a pretty good idea of what’s out there in the way of competition. I have “access” to high school kids on a daily basis. (do not insert joke here) What I mean is, I see and interact with them everyday. But most importanty, I LISTEN to them.
I don’t want to draw a parallel between myself and the Janitor character in the “Breakfast Club”. I’m NOT the “Eyes and Ears of this Institution, My friends”. In fact, if anything I’m probably the “lower bowel” and “sphincter”. (You probably caught on to that from the start) But in this particular scenario, that one not withstanding, I have a better view than even some of the teachers out there who get the privilege of being with these “little souls” for more actual hours than I do. If I lost you at the “internal plumbing” reference let me explain so we can proceed. You’ll find that bodily functions can sometimes be a very effective tool in demonstrating the kind of s*** you have to put up with in life. I know I do. I’m the rear end (I think you already concur). The kids’ attitudes and behavior is the s***. The world these kids seem to find themselves entering is the toilet. Any further explanation will probably require a proctologist and some sort of certificate of completion for me from the American Red Cross. Right now all I have is CPR and First Aid. Unfortunately for the rest of us, some of the kids’ behavior and attitudes would fall somewhere between “Richard Hatch”(sorry bro!) and “Heidi Fleiss” in terms of remorse for their actions, conscience and moral compass. I’m afraid, some of them “Just don’t get it.” Before I alienate those that haven’t already been coated with Go Figg’r Napalm, and limped away saying, “My KIDS are GREAT, This Guy’s Miserable and I don’t have to listen to This Crap, What does He Know?” . . . I need to say, “Good for You, Not Always, True and More Than You Could Possibly Fathom.” And before you get “all bound up” yourself, ask yourself a simple question. Even if you don’t have kids, LOVE kids, hope to have kids, think your kids are the bomb. . . or whatever, have you ever been to the MALL? Tell me truthfully, even if the words haven’t come out of your mouth. YOU’VE seen a group of kids, even just a couple of them somewhere in a public place, unregulated, unleashed and out for blood. I know you have. And haven’t you said to yourself? “What a Pain in the Ass!” I don’t care WHO you are. I bet Mother Teresa said, on more than one occasion, “Isn’t there a Department Store Santa, available?”
If I’ve offended anyone . . . good. You SHOULD be offended. I AM. People are turning their kids loose with no respect for authority, no work ethic and generally no desire to be a productive member of society. Sure, it’s not ALL kids. There are a lot of wonderful kids in the world today. I just don’t have one right on the tip of my tongue. But I’m SURE not All is lost. It can’t be. (I’m not really, I just hope my kids are out of the house before Palin finishes her second term) Yeah, the future is THAT scary to me. But, I do vaguely remember MY parents saying something about “some” generation being a lost cause, ONCE. I even remember hearing somewhere that this type of thing may have been going on from generation to generation since like, the 60’s or something! I know, that’s a LONG TIME.
Whatever happens with our nation’s youth (and I assume those in Canada) I hope kids become more than just “One Big Societal Bowel Obstruction”. I’m doing MY part. They say please, and thank you, and excuse me and EVERYTHING. And those are the kids on the BUS. My kids . . . let’s just say I’m working on it. How old is Palin’s daughter? I was confronted with the future of America today face to face. When she saw me, she hoverounded her old ass back across the crosswalk.
‘Til Next Time. . . Go Figg’r!
Peace Out-Later
D A N
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