Posts tagged ‘children’

21st century, 1st world problems

I came across this toot on Mastodon.

Well, perhaps it is an evil scheme from Amazon, forcing toddlers and their parents to interact, at least occasionally.

By removing pictures, aka pictograms, and replacing them with text, kids who can’t read yet, MUST ask an adult (or older child) for assistance. This preventing, possibly, binge watching in the next generation, enforcing the oh so sweet human interaction.

But what do I know. My five year old would binge watch the entire library of Tom and Jerry, PJ Masks and similar stuff twice over if we would let him, or he had pictograms to help him navigate when we are distracted.

So, maybe, just maybe, Amazon didn’t fuck up, they did shit right.

Take care,

A.

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Ben’s diary ep2

Dear diary, I met her at the airport, her beaming smile captivated me as she exited her plane:

After saying hello and talking for a little while, we drive of in her convertible.

After we arrived at her house things got heated pretty quickly.

Dear diary, I don’t know how to put it, but I’m in deep trouble. Those days of fun seen to be over:

That’s all for today, dear diary.

Nihilistic children…

I was at the playground with my son the other day, and while playing with him I overheard the most nihilistic thing I had ever heard. Especially from a kid.

Nothing is really fun or beautiful

(I am paraphrasing, as it needed translation)

With a kid like that you don’t need to save for college, but for therapy. The boy was around five or six years old and just blurted that line out. On the fucking playground. 

What is that kid’s outlook on life? Starting fires in daycare a year down the road because only the flames provide some warmth? Holy shit. 

Drag the kid to the therapist, medicate him before he’s full on psychotic! What are those parents reading him for bedtime? The collected works of Lovecraft?? This kid needs some serious help!

Thankfully no arson was committed that day. No sacrifice to the deep ones. Just playing on the frakking playground. 

For now. Because remember, nothing is really fun our beautiful. 

Take care (of your psycho kids),
A.

Chestnuts

Come fall I used to search for chestnuts all afternoon after school. 

I, as well as my peers, was nuts for chestnuts. Pretty useless crap, those chestnuts. Can’t eat them. They “spoil” soon after collecting them (as in they shrivel up). You could craft shit with them. Which I never did. 

I just liked them. Their shine when fresh. The texture of the hard exterior. The overall look was magnificent. As a kid I likened the bright spot to a navel. They were cute, magnificent, beautiful things. That I just had to collect. 

Just to throw them out soon after, when they were ugly. And molding. But always with sadness in my heart. 

I was waiting at the bus stop the other day. (After a shrink appointment) And there were a few chestnut trees. Since my son is in that magical age of four, I decided to see if I could find some for him, despite there being numerous kindergartens and primary schools in the area. 

I found numerous. 

Kids these days don’t seem to collect them. There’s a proverb floating around the internet. “Every time a kid stares at a smartphone, an adventure dies in a tree somewhere.” 

Have a nice autumn, and go collect these little useless fuckers with your kids.

A.

A surprise egg!!!

Oh boy! I am letting out my inner child by buying this. I loved kinder surprise eggs as a kid. I’m a nerd. This will no doubt be a shitty toy, but it will still be epic!!!

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. The suspense is kiiiilling meeeee!!!!

Here we see tangible disappointment in the shape of a FUCKING ERASER!!!

If I were still a kid I’d be having a massive tantrum right now. Any child finding this inside their Star Wars surprise egg would be choking back tears of disappointment, broken dreams while munching on cheap chocolate. Maybe it skips well across the lake when tossed at the right angle and speed…

What is this supposed to be? Preparation for life? Cheap chocolate, suspense, disappointment. Not ONE parent will buy a second one of these. I won’t. I’m 35 and I even felt cheated and deeply disappointed. 

They should make Game of Thrones surprise eggs, containing the severed heads of the cast, with a small amount of fake blood in them for maximum gore and “fun”…

Whoever made this shit a reality should be forced to watch one thousand kids opening these fuckers. 

Take care, A.

Crappy Birthday Jan 2017

This rainbow morphsuit is for kids. For the low-low price 34.99€ you can not only traumatize your own brat, but all their friends too!
Act quick and you can give away the 1960s selnderman, watch children cry, hear them sob, watch their parents rake up the therapist bills afterwards.

Crappy Birthday!

Keeping the gate

 … closed. Real tight!

(An experimental father blog post)

During my vacation I got to spend a lot of time with my son. 
Alone, out in the wild, where people are. 
Where mothers roam.

Running around in an urban area one day, a suburban the next, rural one on day three, zoo, aquarium, playgrounds. 
Everywhere you go as a dad with your child, you meet them. 
The Mothers. 
Especially the “MOTHERS”(tm). 
And everywhere you meet them, they give you a smile.

Nice. Isn’t it?

No.
It isn’t. 
It is no smile of joy, of friendliness, of kindness. 
No. 
This the contemptuous, belittling smile of a person about to drown a puppy.
If women were treated this way in hardware-stores, feminists would (rightly) tear them to the ground. 
Brick by brick.

With that one “smiling” glance they let you feel how superior they feel over you, how they see you as an intruder into their realm, their domain, their existence. How they despise your very presence there, and think, or feel, that everything you do is wrong, that you are wrong for even attempting to spend time with your child alone.

These women define themselves, and validate their entire existence, through the fact they squeezed a human being out their vaginal opening. 
There is no place for you, for a father, a man, in that world, the realm of the mothers.

Maternal gate keeping.

It’s a thing: 
》A father maybe plays with the kids under maternal supervision, is permitted to accompany the “MOTHER”(tm) and the kids to the playground. But, and this is the most important thing, a true mother never, ever, lets her children leave the house with the father unsupervised. 
A father does not feel or think with/for his children like a mother, thus can’t take care of the child(ren) like the mother.《
BULLSHIT!

All that is implied in that one smile they give you.

Dads! Rejoice. 
For these women lead the most pitiful life imaginable. Once the kids are old enough to leave the nest, once the menopause has begun to haunt their bodies, ravaging their self-validation with the undeniable fact that birthing is forever off the table, they have but a shallow empty ghost of a reason to live. Whilst we have memories of time spent with our children, the husbands (or lifepartners) of these despicable women will have memories of them spending time with children under maternal supervision that was as strict like a prison visit. 
Relax fellow dads. 
Smile back, and put all the pity you feel for these old hags who have lost the reason to live due to aging, in that smile. 
Give them the same pity, the same contempt and dispise they give you. Disrupt their self image, for they expect a shocked expression, a shy or hurt glance, shame in your eyes. If you hand them back what they dish out, they are disrupted.
Maybe, just maybe, you can draw a “MOTHER”(tm) back to the realm pf normal people, and make her a normal mother.

Take care,
A.