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.
We Are the Sum of the Choices We Make
A friend of mine once said this to me while we were in college.
We were at a party, witnessing the spectacle of a drunk hottie we both desired to gnaw upon, who stumbled into some bushes. Fell down. And then peed herself.
“We are the sum of the choices we make.”
When the early Christian gnostics began repackaging Judaism for the masses, they understood this simple concept. That the Hebraic ambiguity of a God of indeterminacy could never pack ’em in like the Bruckheimer spectacle of epic battle between good and evil.
Sin and redemption.
Boobies and pink speedos.
Dragon tatts and spikey hair in a club that resembles a red satin insane asylum.
We are the sum of the choices we make.
Boris
Challo.
I am Boris.
I like, how you say, the boobies?
Thank you.
Have a nice day.
A Giant Steaming Dump
And Lo! Upon Sinai, the heavens parted, and a light shone down, and the Lord your G-d Adonai, thundered, “Well this is some serious shite.”
Mosi Tattattpoo
Your lazy and hung over author is back in the city of Angels and scratching himself with a mini-lufa.
But the good news is all pics have been fixed, and the comments threads should be working fine.
So in honor of Mosi’s tattbelly and Lithe Asian Hottsicle, Jenna Kim, as well as the Hohan going to jail, here’s one line of iambic pentameter:
I went on a vaca and now I’m drunk.
The Muggy Bear 'Bag
Pointy tip, Douche Shirt and Zombie Stare tell us the truth about Muggy Bear’s philosophical outlook:
High School is for suckas.
The Margarita Sisters squeeze my limes and salt my mojitos with a dash of paprika. And for that, I honor their ancestors by stealing their socks from the hamper while they’re at church. And by church, I mean appearing nightly at the “Classy Lady” off Interstate 64, between the Kinkos and around the corner from Bob’s Country Bunker.
The Muggy Bear ‘Bag
Pointy tip, Douche Shirt and Zombie Stare tell us the truth about Muggy Bear’s philosophical outlook:
High School is for suckas.
The Margarita Sisters squeeze my limes and salt my mojitos with a dash of paprika. And for that, I honor their ancestors by stealing their socks from the hamper while they’re at church. And by church, I mean appearing nightly at the “Classy Lady” off Interstate 64, between the Kinkos and around the corner from Bob’s Country Bunker.
Froggy Puts a Wart on Lily's Butt
And somewhere, deep in the grassy tree lined hills of outer Monrovia, a woodland fawn sheds a single tear for the future destruction of the natural world.
For Froggy has dishonored the purity of the Ass Pear.
And the Gods will not be so forgiving this time.
Froggy Puts a Wart on Lily’s Butt
And somewhere, deep in the grassy tree lined hills of outer Monrovia, a woodland fawn sheds a single tear for the future destruction of the natural world.
For Froggy has dishonored the purity of the Ass Pear.
And the Gods will not be so forgiving this time.
Vishnu of Suburbia
The new Green Day album just doesn’t quite pack the same power.
