LANGUAGE! Repulsive kids.
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Seriously.... (warning, strong language)
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Seriously.... (warning, strong language)
I have zero compassion for what's coming in this nation with the economy and the young people in it given this display. Oh, if you're hungry in the future, perhaps you can go talk to that "hated" parent of yours who didn't indulge your spoiled fantasy crap and see if, at 18, the door isn't slammed in your face -- because that's what you deserve.
Ps: You might get a surprise in The Will when your old man passes too -- were I him I'd leave everything to the Church's poor box and include a copy of your "tweet" as the explanation.
I cannot even begin to fathom that kind of shit. I can see it now.
ReplyDeleteMe- Fuck You Daaaaaa.... OH shit! Thump as I hit the floor.
Dad- You're welcome.
Me- Fuck You Daaaaaa.... OH shit! Thump as I hit the floor.
ReplyDeleteDad- You're welcome.
Heh!:)
When I was 14 (and had 3-4 hairs on my chest), told my dad to kiss my rosy red ass. He backhanded me like John McEnroe. Landed across the room on the couch. Dad was a carpenter then swinging a 20oz hammer 10 hrs a day. I was in my 20's before I said it again, and I was joking then.
ReplyDelete. I was in my 20's before I said it again, and I was joking then.
ReplyDelete:)
I had a similar epiphany when I was 16 and was arguing with my father. I reached out and shoved him just a little. He smiled in return and simply said he knew that this day would come. He told me every son gets to a point where they feel like they can take the old man. He said I tell you what we will each get just one punch and he would let me go first. He stood sidewise to me and stuck his upper arm and shoulder out. He slapped his upper arm and said give it your best shot.
ReplyDeleteI pulled back and hit him with everything I had right center on the upper arm. He flinched and shook his arm out telling me just how much I had put into the punch but now it was his turn. I turned my side to him and stuck out my arm and steadied my stance for the punch on my upper arm.
Next thing I knew I was laying on the floor shaking my head and holding my jaw and yelling you hit me on the damn jaw. My father had been a logger all his life since he returned from WWII and lugging a chain saw and driving wedges all day put alot of power in those arms. he smiled and offered me a hand up and simply said, I told you we would each get just one punch and you chose to waste yours on my arm. I put mine where it would count. You packed one hell of a punch though.
I never again challenged my father and we rarely argued in the 39 years after that moment til my father's passing. Somehow I figured even at 86 he could still reach out and get my attention if I gave him cause to do so...
Somehow I figured even at 86 he could still reach out and get my attention if I gave him cause to do so...
ReplyDelete:) Good lesson. Reminds me of my Cousin Frankie.
http://www.namsouth.com/viewtopic.php?t=3338&highlight=frankie
Uncle Frank was a man whose very look would make the hardest man back down and some of this rubbed off on his son Frankie. I remember at an outdoor event, Frankie screwed up as usual, and after his father took him into the woods, Frankie returned with the back of his legs bleeding profusely from the whipping. When we approached him and said we were sorry and that it must hurt a lot, he said it was nothing, didn't feel a thing!
It's a longer story, but...
ReplyDeleteThe night I had my first beer, the combination of a taste of alcohol and my adolescent nuts led me to stand up to Dad.
He said "Oh - so you think you're GROWN?"
I hitched up my pants, let my hands settle at my belt-buckle, looked him dead in the eye and said "I guess there's a MAN in the house..."
He nodded his head, made as if to turn away, and...
I woke up across the room, sprawled out in the corner.
As I shook my head - trying to clear my vision - and worked my jaw trying to figure out what was wrong with it, my eyes slowly managed to focus on him standing over me, face just a few inches from mine.
In a very Clint Eastwood-esque voice, he said "Boy, There's BEEN a man in THIS house! Now go to your room!"
I don't think my feet touched the floor the whole way there.
We never spoke of it again - it was as if it had never happened...
I actually PITY these kids for never having learned their proper place, or to appreciate what they have.
It is for these reasons that I've DELIBERATELY let my kids experience mild hunger and want while at college. It's nothing compared to what I experienced (put on the street, homeless, at 17 with about an hour's notice) but enough to turn what had been a relatively spoiled kid into one who at least PRETENDS to appreciate what (s)he has...
I actually PITY these kids for never having learned their proper place, or to appreciate what they have.
ReplyDeleteSad to say.