Kids

Everything you are about to read is true. The names, however, have NOT been changed to protect the innocent. Why not, you may ask? It is because I, the author, am not among the innocent and therefore don't give a flying toss about what happens to them. After all, the mothers and fathers of these innocent bystanders spent a good deal of time trying to think of decent names for their children, and I think we should show them the respect of not changing said names at the first sign of conflict. As the introduction comes dangerously close to being longer than the body of this post, I begin:

A recent study by several well-known highly respected child psychologists showed that 85 percent of everything a person will ever know is learned before he/she turns 8 years old. Another recent study showed that 85 percent of these psychologists were high like kites on Charlie-Sheen-grade weed at the time of their study. In addition, they refuted the original findings. They claimed that 85% of everything that we learn in life, is learnt during our teenage years while working our minimum-wage summer jobs. I tend to agree with the second group's findings.

Things I've learned as a summer camp counselor:
1. Chicken fingers are of God. Tacos are of Satan.
2. Almost every facet of a child's behavior, every defect in their personality, is the parent's fault.
3. Kids are like handguns. They can help resolve a situation when they're around, but most of the time someone just ends up getting shot.
4. Kids are strong. No matter how many dodgeballs you throw at them, they keep getting back up.
5. Spades is the best game in the entire world. Bar none.
6. Standing alone in a walk-in freezer gives plenty of time to clear your thoughts. Provided that you don't die of hypothermia first.
7. I would die before I would consider naming my child Alex, Nicholas, Robbie, Johnathan, Bennett, Abrianna, or Burt Reynolds.
8. Any problem can be solved with some combination of lemonade, bandaids, and excessive force.

Of Nominal Anomalies

Creation is an activity best left to God. Any worthwhile science fiction novel can tell you that much. But we humans are an obstinate bunch. We insist that we are capable of creating original thought. We attempt to prove this through new inventions, new religons, and more new boy bands than any one person could begin to shake a stick at.

No matter how hard we try, anything that the human race accomplishes is merely a rearrangement of the original elements of nature established long before our time. But still we persevere. And we continue to embellish our illusions of grandeur by sealing the deal with a namesake.

A dinky yellow cloth was nothing but a dinky yellow cloth until some idiot called it a ShamWow! And that Halfrican (half African) in the Oval Office would have been just some President if not for the bozo who decided to name said Halfrican after the 3 men on the FBI's most wanted list. And a rose by any other name might smell as sweet, but it wouldn't be a rose anymore, now would it?

I have a full share in this futility. My blog posts are often written with little to no regard for the content; I want simply to insert enough words into the body of the post to warrant an interesting title.

Confessions of a blogger with ulterior motives. So sue me.

Sue me now.