Every Parent Cannot Be Right

Every parent in the world will tell you they have good kids.

Except Jeffrey Dahmer's.

The best, the brightest, the most talented, the most successful, and on and on and on. They can't all be right.

Some of their kids have to be dope fiends, alcoholics, murderers, deviates, miscreants, rapists, sluts.

Maybe a lot of them.

It's like when you watch Wheel of Fortune and Pat Sajak asks "Who do you have in the audience" and the responses invariably come back "my beautiful wife, my amazing husband, my awesome kids, my incredible parents........."  Does every fucking wife in the world have to be beautiful? Every husband amazing?

I guarantee some of those people go home and say "I'm going upstairs to watch TV, asshole." "Yeah, OK - do whatever you want, shithead."

By the way, I used to hate watching game shows. Felt I was wasting my time, not making full use of my massive intelligence. Now I dig it. We don't do it every night but when we do I don't feel like I should poke my eyeballs out.

I have lightened up in many ways in the past year. Especially when it comes to weather. I did not panic when summer ended or when it got cold. I felt absolutely no anxiety, which is a fucking miracle. I felt nothing at all.

Except for snow. When the first snow hit I was outside throwing my shovel around the yard. Not kidding. Flinging the fucking thing in disgust. I will never get used to snow, never cut it any slack.

If snow could be given human characteristics I would cut its balls off and shove them down its throat.

We are coming up on Week 15 in the NFL and I am experiencing zero panic. None. The season is coming to a close and I remain serene. That may be the ultimate fucking proof that I have lightened up.

Anyway, back to my point. The amazing thing is my sons are the two most amazing humans on planet earth. How did that happen? What a miracle. And it's truth.

Don't take my word for it. Just ask Carol.

Fucking intelligent, personable, successful, hilarious, handsome, brave, clean and reverent.

So while I listen to you brag about your kids, all the while thinking to myself (Jesus fucking Christ, do you really expect me to believe this shit, you blow hard?), I take comfort in knowing that my sons will one day be elected to the Offspring Hall of Fame.

In addition I am amused to think that when they are asked "How much credit do you give to your father for making you the men you are today?" they will respond "Zero. Are you fucking kidding us? He was nothing more than a lovable loser and no account boozer. And he didn't even understand the game of basketball."

Oh well. I never wanted kids anyway. A Ferrari Testarossa would have been a hell of a lot more fun.