Posts tagged ‘playground’

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.

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Lost?

I swear it said “Take a left turn”, not “Cross the ocean.”

Yes, that’s all for today. A lame joke.

We had visited the garden expo in Tulln (Austria) last weekend. I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff to see there, to make blog posts for the next two weeks, if not the entire month. But my son was glued to the playground.
No changing his mind.
None.

Hence, this is all… Well, almost. But that’s a rant for another day.

Take care,
A.

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.