Monday, November 24, 2008

To the Parents of...

Alright...look,I think I'm a pretty reasonable guy. I try not to let things get to me. I come at life safely even-keeled in an attempt to mask the rampant hysteria that threatens to sweep me out in to the deep waters of insanity at any given moment better follow the path I am meant to take.

However, my life lately has been rife with overly-cute children that are trying to explode my head and I need someone with a little effing culpability to stand up. Seriously parents... pay attention here. Watching your doe-eyed 3 year old mispronounce "hippopotamus" in French is like you purposefully crossing the streams and trying to blast me and the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man back to the realm of Zuel. It's ridiculous. It's like watching mythical ponies and bunnies frolic under a sun who is wearing sunglasses and has big smile and is waving jovially at all the woodland creatures. It's like a fairy offering to take me on a unicorn ride over the rainbow to the land of gumdrops.

Seriously. Knock it off.

Your adorable child is emasculating me using a subtle form of physical context. Just by being in proximity to such a massive upsurge of cute makes even a roguishly handsome outlaw, like me, look like a demure Dorothy Hamill after a particularly successful quadruple axle. I mean it's hard enough trying to radiate a perpetual glow of Sinatra-esque cool as it is. I need to be caught saying "Awwwww!!!" while watching a kid do something infinitely precocious like I need a fucking bag over my head.

I should be punching a friend on the shoulder, or making a sexist remark and elbowing someone, or something.

For example, Saturday night I'm out on the town (that's what you call binge drinking after you turn thirty...just for the record), and we're at dinner. I'm up to my usual hijinks...telling lude stories and making obscene hand motions at complete strangers, when some friends show up with their infant daughter. The little girl in question finds a cell phone on the table and starts pretending to talk into it. Every few minutes she cocks her head slightly to one side, cradles the phone between her cheek and shoulder, and laughs heartily at whatever the pretend person on the other end is saying as if to say "Oh YOU!!"

That's all I saw because then my head exploded.

Cuteness of that magnitude should be harnessed. It's like lightning. If Marty McFly drove past that at 88 MPH you'd see some serious shit.

There has to be a way to use this power for good. Maybe instead of developing weapons with higher kill ratios for use in unjust foreign wars, we could work on some sort of ray that would broadcast kids doing riculously cute things right into the cerebral cortex of an enemy. Then they'd be all "Aww!!!" and they would lay down their guns and everything would be peaceful.

And then their heads would explode.

This is what I'm talking about. Nice knowing you.

(*puts on biohazard suit for inevitable cranial explosion*)


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

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