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All right, breeders (and you know which breeders I’m addressing – the ones with no friends, no social life, just “The kids and us”). The ones who allow their foul, misbegotten spawn to run completely amok, shrieking at volumes that would make your average Death Metal band cringe in terror and cry like 7-year-old schoolgirls. I feel certain that this type of public behavior comes as a direct result of the permissive, no punishment ‘Don’t interfere with their uniqueness / creativity / individual expression’ school of thought so popular these days. Tell you what, if I had ‘Creatively Expressed my Individuality’ in a similar manner, Dad would surely have displayed his own form of unique creativity and I would still have the fucking dents in my head. Ok, so I do have a few dents in my head – their formation easily explained, and not at all related to the topic at hand. At this point in the proceedings, it’s fairly useless to punish the spawn; it’s only doing what these creatures generally do, which is whatever they can get away with. In fact, many will actually go beyond what they can get away with, eagerly testing the limits of the general public’s patience by engaging in a round or two of envelope – pushing. This is learned behavior, people! The little bastards have learned that they can behave any way they want to because that’s how they’ve been allowed to behave. Not really their fault, but still an offence warranting execution in RobScenityLand. No, it is the parent in this case who needs a sound smack to the head, although I am uncertain that someone with the ability to tune out that amount of noise would even be capable of feeling the impact of a well – aimed swat. Just how the fuck do they do it, tune things out like that? Even if they were stone deaf, you’d think that the sheer, massive volumes of negative energy directed towards them by every living creature within earshot of their filthy, misdirected cum-spurt would nail their skull like a sledgehammer of pure, unadulterated, primal force, shattering their psyches, like a hydrogen bomb would shatter an eggshell. And I wish it would. Lucifer knows I’ve tried to get through to them, but head shaking, off-hand comments, even serious attempts at good, old-fashioned embarrassment usually fail. Usually. Here, as my gift to those who chose (wisely) to be the last swimmers in their respective gene pools, are two methods that, when executed correctly, will virtually guarantee the immediate departure of the offending parent, with an added bonus: the probable grounding and vigorous slippering of their beloved little shit:

 1) I poke my head around a corner and holler back to someone (real or imaginary) “No, no… it’s just a kid. I thought someone was peeling a monkey with a potato peeler, but yeah, it’s just some spoiled fucking kid.” Then I follow them, yelling back even louder “No monkey, but hey!! You’ve just GOTTA see the size of this kid’s fucking head! Remember that beach-ball factory in Newark? Ok, now picture that on acid!”

 2) This one was blatantly ripped off from Kara, but it works, its fast and its fun. Just walk past, look slightly amazed, then shake your head and say, really loud, “Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s all the birth control I’ll ever fucking need!” Kara used to follow it up with “Hey, listen to my stomach! Hear that? That’s the sound of the last of my ovaries popping and drying out!”

People, if you insist on smearing and squirting your vile, inferior genetic material around with no eye towards the consequences, do try at least to show some consideration to those of us who have chosen not to do likewise. If you have spawned and raised a loathsome, undisciplined, spoiled rotten, snot-bubbling noise generator, leave it with a keeper, or at home in a cage. If you do not grant this one, simple request, then I, or someone very much like me, will gladly perform a 40th trimester abortion, absolutely free of charge. Thanx for listening and feel free to comment.

I love being in university! I love the subjects offered and knowledge I glean. What I don't like is how some courses are structured. Tutorials in particular piss me off, its never taught by the tenured professor, and you learn nothing from it! Its touchy feely hippie crap with getting to know your fellow students with individual introductions, useless time wasting group activities, and airing your opinions. I have fuck all to learn from my fellow students or the TA, and it makes my skin crawl to be forced to endure something so mind numbingly tedious. Give me a full four hour lecture and go through the texts you made me pay $150 on from contents to index to get my fucking money's worth!