I was at
Books-A-Million wasting time today when I noticed a large gathering of stooges sitting around playing card games or something. I think it was one of those
Magic: The Pokemon Gathering games where you collect cards and then you use some rules and trading to fight versus your friends. This game is usually played by people known as losers and the gathering at the bookstore was no different.
The ages of the people I saw varied between like 5 and 37 and they were of all races including white, black, asian, middle-eastern, eskimo, and hobbit. The resounding characteristics were rotund fatness, shaggy hair, t-shirt stained with food, squeaky voice, and poor hygiene. I overheard them arguing about "mana" and calling people to try to buy cards from too.
The thing that puzzled me the most was that there were parents around who seemed like they not only tolerated this behavior, but actually encouraged it by driving their kids to the mall. Granted, these parents shared many of the same characteristics of the kids including the poor physique and general disheveled appearance, but I don't think they realize the mistakes they're making by letting their kids play these loser games.
People are like, "You should support your kids when they like something." Hell no. Only support stuff that is cool like bare-knuckle boxing and cock fighting. Here's how I would handle the situation if, God forbid, I have a kid who's a loser.
Son: Dad, can you take me to the mall?
Michael: Sure, what are we gonna look for chicks or something?
Son: No, I'm meeting some friends at the bookstore.
Michael: The bookstore eh? I didn't know they had the nude girl magazines there.
Son: No, Dad. Not for that. We're gonna play card games.
Michael: Betting on poker, huh? That's cool just don't lose and give me 10% of your winnings.
Son: No, we're trading Magik Pokemon cards and battling in Magik Pokemon tournaments. It's the coolest new thing.
Michael: Ya know, I'm not ignorant. Those dumb games sucked when I was young and I know they suck now. I'm ashamed of you son.
Son: *tearing up* What?
Michael: Yeah, go throw away all those cards. And then go feed Goliath the Rooster, we got a big cock fight tonight. Bring me a beer too and make it snappy or I'll get the belt.
*Son runs off in tears*
Michael: This parenting stuff isn't so hard.
Comments (7)
This happened last year, but it still haunts me today.
Monday, June 06, 2005
"Oh my God! What an eventful day we had today. Life was going well. Last night, I got a little tipsy at the local Baby A's. I drank more than a fish. I felt great about myself. My best bud, Andrew came by Kat's place (that's where I decided to stay last night) so that he could laugh at my drunkeness. I woke up this morning. Birds were singing; Kat insisted on mowing the grass right in front of my window as I enjoyed a peaceful slumber. I woke up around 10, still burping up tequila and everclear from the night before, but I was not hung-over and not vomiting. The day was looking quite promising. Andrew finally stumbled out of bed around 11, looking as ravishing as a jungle cat, devishly handsome. We both decided to take showers and head to the nearby Bennigans for some nourishment.
We get to Bennigans and eat; good stuff as usual. We got our usual: Turkey O'Toole with extra honey dijon and tea. Our waitress sucked ass, but what the hell. I showed her, though. I filled out a comment card about how much she sucked. I bitched about her and praised the food that was still damned good. That was my way of shaking my fists at her. The day was going well until Andrew suggested that we go to the local mouth-breather hangout that most Austinites call Fry's. I knew that this wasn't going to be just a regular Sunday. No, no, no... this would be a Sunday that I would never forget.
Now for those of you who don't know, Fry's is a, well, let's just say, a mouth-breather's paradise. It has electronics, CD's, movies, appliances, pianos, a coffee shop, and, Andrew's favorite, an Apple computer section. Feeling the humidity from all of the mouthbreathing that was happening that general area, I was ready to leave as soon as we had gotten there. But no, Andrew had to see the ginormous monitors that Apple was selling. So, we head over there. We were minding our own business when suddenly, an uber-nerd exhales in our vicinity. As soon as I felt the warmth, I knew we weren't alone. Andrew clicks on something called "The Terminal", which was a program on the computer. I believe that this clicking action triggered the uber-nerd alarm in that section, because it was as though this uber-nerd sensed that we were playing with "The Terminal". Uber-Nerd approaches Andrew and starts talking with him about "Unix", asking him if he was familar with the program. By this time, I was already turned off by all of this crazy talk. Apparently you can manipulate your Mac system with this program, and this just got Uber-Nerd too excited. He started getting all giddy about "Unix" and "The Terminal". Then, 2 sentences came out of his mouth gave me the feeling like I had just drank a 40 oz of what I thought was warm beer, to just find out that it was urine. He said, and I quote:
"Some Unix-Geeks say that Unix is the power of God at your fingertips...and if you're not careful, you can smite yourself."
Upon hearing this, I just said "I have to go" and left Uber-Nerd and Andrew alone to handle their own business. Andrew told me later that when Uber-Nerd said that, he saw me leave in a hurry in the other direction, thinking to himself, "you bitch!". I guess that is just the price you pay for liking mouth-breather things. I know that Andrew felt bad, so bad in fact that as a token of apology, I get one more chick flick this year. (Andrew and Chris only allow 3 chick flicks per year, and I have already used one.) This by far was the most awkward experiences in my life. I have never been so scared of a single person. In a room with hundreds of other people, I felt all alone. I felt like Austin feels...like a liberal island on a conservative sea. "
I haven't a clue what that has to do with your story, but what the hell, eh? I'm not a crazy, I swear.
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That boy needs therapy