Vinny Delpino, Archetype For Generations
I want you all to know that I'm just like you. Sure, I've got a lot more going for me than most people--shocking good looks, practically unchartable IQ, a certain way with... whaddyacallem... words--but I think it's important that you remember that, even though I do something weird like stay home with my kids, I hate my job just like the rest of you working people do.

Also just like you, even though during work hours every single solitary day of the week I wish to God (and any other deity who might be listening and for whom blood sacrifices can be arranged... seriously, call me) I was anywhere else. It's not that my job is particularly hard or exceptionally unfulfilling, it's just that I'm a person; specifically, I'm an American person, which means that I work harder (in terms of man-hours spent on the job) than 90% of the world's population and I also do almost nothing else while I'm working besides complain about how much I have to work.

"But Pops," you're thinking, "here you are blogging, just as you do six days a week. If you have that kind of time, how hard could your job be?" To which I must tell you, it's not the job that makes it hard to blog. It's the drinking. Not only can binge alcohol abuse be hard on the ole hand-eye coordination, it's quite a time-suck once you factor in the blackouts.

Even though I hate my job, when talking to other people about it, I have to PRETEND at least that I'm interested in it. Maybe this is particular to people in my situation as most of you have no problem telling me how much it sucks to be a... whatever it is you are. As awful as potty training and the Wiggles can be, I know enough to realize my job sucks a hell of a lot less than your job, so I have to keep up the facade of warm fuzzy home-life happiness lest my wife catch on and sends me out with my history MA to get a job in... whatever it is I would be qualified for. I'm thinking either entry-level data entry or pool-hall whore.

So I spend a lot of time pretending to be interested in the "welfare of the children" the world over so that I project the right kind of persona that will keep me from performing hand-jobs in alleyways behind Mr. Cue's.

Really I'm not that interested in the welfare of your kids. I'm really not. I have enough to handle keeping my three from killing themselves or each other to spend a lot of time wondering if yours are being fed properly or if they have time to show their love for Jesus in public school. I really don't care.

But if I'm around other people and I come across a news story about child-rearing in any fashion, I've got a pre-scripted routine I have to run through like a chimp on a tricycle. There's a brow furrow, a tsk, a slow headshake and finally a resigned/concerned sigh. And then the chimp on the tricycle comes out and everyone forgets. Best $8,000 on the African wild animal black market I ever spent.

Like today when I read about the 13 year old kid who was starting college at UC Santa Barbara, my first, secret, natural reaction is "hahaha, fucking Doogie Howser nerd!"

But if anyone asks about it: brow, furrow, tsk, headshake, sigh... And if I'm out of the house, sans chimp, I have to make up something to say. "That poor boy," I'll have to improvise. "His parents must push him so hard. He'll never know the joys of being a regular kid. It's akin to child abuse." Sure, it's bullshit, but the scary thing is when I kind of start to believe it, especially as I consider the comparisons to my own bright, but non-frightening-genius kids. Then I start to seriously wonder about his homelife, like has he ever seen an episode of South Park? Is he allowed to eat processed foods? Does he have a best friend his own age who is a sounding-board for normal age-appropriate living and if so, is this friend sufficiently ethnic? Does he even have a 20 year old Apple II computer on which to type his daily diary of trite pabulum to wrap up thematically the events of his day?

Worrying about that kid, worrying about my own kids' academic acumen by comparison.. it's all very stressful. Until I read the genius kid says he's studying to become a "research scientist in biology." And then I was relieved that my kids aren't child geniuses, for one primary reason: child geniuses are boring.

Why doesn't he want to be a rock star like every other 13 year old boy? Maybe I'm not being fair. Maybe only the boring child geniuses make the paper. Maybe there are plenty of 13 year old geniuses who DID become rock stars, letting their genius atrophy from an insincere approach--if not active indifference--to intellectual self-improvement and existing in a culture where coherence of expression is neither prized nor even recognized. Oh, and also the constant soaking of their brains in a puddle of drugs and alcohol in barely-sub-lethal doses over a period of many years. Maybe there's more to Tommy Lee than tattoos, a giant, telegenic schwanz and a general air of child-molester creepiness.

Are the tattoos some kind of physical representation of patterns and intersecting lines that illustrate some fundamental principle of Zipf's Law? And if so, why does it all look like vaginas?

I don't know. It's a lot to consider in one day. All I know for sure is that I won't be posting Sunday night or Monday because of a bunch of shit I have to do at my kids' school. I guess that's the point. And also that although Catholic school is expensive, it's still cheaper than college, even a state school. So I guess I should be happy I have time to save up.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 7.5



Pops
- posted by Pops @ 10:01 AM