Ask DB1: Baby Tagging?
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DB1,
I just had a baby boy born six months ago (I’m a daddy!).
But now I’m terrified he’s going to grow up to be some hip-hop wigga wannabe suburban douchebag.
If there are early warning signs, how can I spot them?
— Barnstable Colin
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Look for the clues, B.C., and they will be easy to spot. Ed Hardy pacifiers. Gangsta hand gestures during diaper changings. Mixing Grey Goose with his Gerber and milk.
If your baby is ‘bag, you must wait for the toddler years to take any action. Rudimentary language skills are a must for treatment to begin.
Once your child has a basic grasp of English, you must immediately commence with sarcastic mocking and ridicule until he cries himself to sleep in existential angst.
Once you’ve broken his child spirit, creating lasting scars and resentment, you’ve completed the first step. Now you must build him back up by buying him as much British comedy on DVD as you can until he recovers.
The baby knows already hes doomed, practicing Hari Kari for when the time comes
Start with Monty Python, move on to Fawlty Towers, and then Black Adder when he’s more mature. If the kid finds film adaptations of anything by P.G. Wodehouse funny by the time he’s a teenager, you’ve won.
It’s never too early to physically intimidate a baby into submission or threaten with fire. But only if you’re really, really annoyed.
@jacques doucheteau
What you suggest walks a fine line: Early exposure to Monty Python might result in you raising one of those assholes who will just sit and recite every line of every movie along with it, annoying the bejesus out of everyone and ruining it the movie. Nobody wants or needs that.
@Barnstable Colin,
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First, congrats! Second, I had written Boss about this a while back when my son was born regarding the theory of Original Sin… or more aptly put, ‘Original Scrote.’ As a recovering Cathoholic, I was taught as a child that we were all born with a sinful nature and were doomed to Hell if we didn’t repent. After repressing this teaching for many years, it all came rushing back into my consciousness when my son was born.
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Only hours after arriving in San Francisco for an AIA convention last year, my wife calls me and says she’s having labor pains. Yes… THE labor pains. Two and a half weeks before the due date. So, I hitch a Southwest flight back home, and eight hours later I’m swaddling a screaming baby boy! I customarily count all his fingers and toes and lo, but for the grace of Samürai Scrøtë, he’s healthy!! But, here’s where the story gets interesting.
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After weighing and recording him, the nurses scamper over with our newest family member so we can properly introduce ourselves. That’s when the head nurse first bore forth his jet-black blowout and purple complexion. There he was, like a toddling Joey P! Except not gay. And way cuter mind you – like waaay. I believe there may have been a hand gesture #324 thrown in for good measure. I can’t really be sure; it was all such a blur. Lost amongst the immediate emotions of love, adoration and devotion; were the sobering words no father wants to utter: “Holy hogswallow… my son’s been born a douchebag!!”
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Of course, this led to an immediate and uncontrollable urge to break forth into a crescendo of mocking limericks and haikus – raining down like blood uponst my firstborn son.
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Alas, before the mocking began spewing from my mouth, I hearkened back to something that DB1 said a few years back: “Read my book – I gotsta eat too, bitches.” (Loose translation). So, with my wife mercifully sedated via healthy helpings of Morphine, I began serenading my son with the first three chapters from the Good Book: Hot Chicks with Douchebags. The Pentadouche, if you will.
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Needless to say, only moments later, young Crucial Aloysius Head the Second’s hair miraculously began lowering in submission to his scalp while his skin returned to the native light-brown hue of his parents. Amazingly, he was smiling and sleeping like – well, a baby. It was then, that I closed the Good Book, and scurried to my makeshift bed of two pint-sized chairs pushed together, and blissfully dreamt the night away to the sounds of Glory Hole Doily’s Greatest Hits. In the morning, I chalked this experience up as the first of many small battles, in this never-ending war. But, I was comforted in the fact that there IS hope.
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I believe. Yes… yes I do.
@Jaques Doucheteau
A holy handgrenade will do the trick
Whoever did that to the poor kids in the picture should have those CDs shoved up their urethra. Sideways. Followed by the rack. Sideways.
Perhaps a decent college education will make the child smarter and he will never need to consider the stupidity of acting douchebag-ey. He doesn’t have to lower himself into that role.
It just seems that’s the missing part on most of these assholes,being educated,making sure your kid learns some common sense from a parent. Don’t let him watch Snooki.
@ Crucial:
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You fuckstick I was at that convention; you coulda looked me up; one of only 3 dudes from Mississippi there. That first night we rang up an $800 tab at a sushi bar then they threw us out for only ordering shots and not food; well that and we were drunk and knocking shit over laughing like hyenas; it was ugly. Maybe its better you headed back home for Lil’ Croosh’s debut…
@Barnstable Colin:
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Keep an eye out for the dreaded 10 degree diaper tilt, and the more dreaded pooped butt reveal. Also, the wearing of excessive amounts of baby powder.
Yeah ‘Sock, I never even made it out of SF International. I was traveling with a work acquaintance who stayed behind, but I decided against having him look up an Architect from Mississippi who was tall, toothy, dark, and had giant mouse ears. We ‘baghunters must remain incognito at times.
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Did you make it to Miami this year? Budget cuts here (though it is a tasty write off) made me decide against it. I’m sure you saw plenty o’ douchery goins on down yonder. We should mos’ def’ talk shop over a few glasses of mescal one of these days.
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And by ‘talk shop,’ I mean trade Haiku and Limerick tips.
kids are weird that way. One day you’re changing their diapers, the next day they’re hittin’ ya up for beer money and keys to go wreck the family car.
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They grow fast.
Could the break down/build up technique of debagging work on the pre-teen or early teen proto-bag?
douchey kids and existential angst?
i’ll have to witness such a thing.
This kids name: Justin Gerber.
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Sorry.
Yeah Croosh I was in Miami. The fuckuppery made the SF shenanigans pale in comparison. I didn’t make it to ONE SINGLE FUCCEN SEMINAR. We drank like beasts; partied at Mango’s until closing; had an epic meal at Garcia’s (an old classmate was the proprietor’s niece) and went on booze cruises through Biscayne bay at night. I was not allowed to pilot the boat. The one useful thing I did was cast my vote for Helene Dreiling, a good friend of mine who secured Secretary position and is going for the Presidency soon. She got a standing ovation for saying the AIA should not be in the CEU Policing business. WORD, GIRL.
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I heard rumor that a future convention may be in New Orleans. It’s on then, bitch.
If it’s in NOLA bring yo bail money fool
Well hell, if it’s in NOLA I’ll bring my bail money, Plinky’s personal bail bondsman, and Boris from two threads down… you know, in case I need a liver transplant on the run.
@Crucial
You are my hero, I don’t tell you that enough.
^^… and you are sporting two of my favorite heroes.
I’ve got two daughters and I worry most about them bleething out when they get older. They’re gonna wear Mormon dresses to school and style their hair in a bun. If any douchebags show up at my house, I’ll be covnveniently cleaning the old Beretta.
Plenty of Benny Hill will do for re-building Baby Douche crunched egos.
Same goes for Baby Bleeths.as they seem to pick up the virus in day-care nurseries and on play-dates.
As a father of a teenage boy the only advice I have is to stay connected to your kids life no matter what. Make his friends come over to your house and see if they have any douche qualities. My son has a friend who was going the way of the douche so I told my boy to have a few friends come over for a bbq. They did and the border line teen douche was mocked by me (my wife joined in as well) for going the way of the bag. He actually took it like a man and listened to our words. He was also sent this website by son as reference for what not to do or become. Its not easy BC, especially the older they get. Good luck and congrats.
No, that’s not hari-kari practice, that’s Once I figure out how to open this fool marker, I’m going to extract my vengence for dressing me like an effin’ douchebag, bleethmom and douchedad.
In all seriousness, play an active role in your kids life. Keep him occupied with sports and activities. Don’t let him watch cable T.V. Any show you feel it is safe for him to watch, get the series on DVD. This should cut any interest in materialism out of his life. Also have another kid, to avoid Only Child Syndrome. This will shut down the kid’s narcissism, and make him understand that the universe does not revolve around him. If he befriends a douche, forcing them not to hang out won’t help anything. Instead make fun of that kid every chance you get. In fact whenever you see a douchebag, point at him and laugh.