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Friday, January 21

Open letter to my eldest son

Dear Mr. Man,

I know you are less than happy with me lately. I realize this is typical for most 16 year old boys who think they're real men. I shouldn't be surprised about any of it, but, son, you can tell yourself to be prepared for your kids to grow up, and I've found that it doesn't get any easier. I've had a hard time talking to you lately, and this has been hard for me, because I've always been able to talk to you. Your brother, Mr. JapCrap, not so much. But you always seemed to understand.

Every time I try to reason with you, though, THIS is the look I get from you. (Drew, this is what I am talking about. Look at that face? Look at those lips? Isn't that just the gay-est thing you've ever seen? I never saw you look anything like that with your grimy little Felicia).

To fill the rest of my readers in, I've had to snip his dick down a bit, because he had a bad report card. In the interests of complete disclosure, he got two B's. I'm sure some of you knuckle-draggers out there are now holding the sides of your thick, scarred craniums in disgust at me.

What you have to understand, people, is THIS is one smart, ought to be doing one hell of a lot better kid. All I've asked him to do is to SHOW ME that he works hard in school. "Well, my grades should show that". Not necessarily, big guy. It would have gone down a lot better if we could see that you were bringing your work home, studying, asking us for help with memorizations, instead of sitting on your computer all night typing nasty suggestions to girls across Northern Illinois, or running around town every day trying to mooch free quesadillas-n-fries from the locals.

Before you pack your things and shove off to some school in two years, I need to know that you've been listening to me about being able to work hard, give your best effort, and being able to get out of a jam by working through it, not licking the private parts of whoever is hassling you. After a while, son, what you do is your own business, and probably you'll be better at it than I am. But it's my job to try to at least introduce you to the concept of a work ethic. When all else fails, son, hard work usually is the best policy.

If I didn't care about you, I'd just sit back and let your girlfriend do your homework. Your teachers don't seem to care. But they're not going to be there the first time you hit bottom, it will be just me.


Your Daddycakes

Ps. who the fuck NEEDS the Kubs Konvention? Look at all this shit. Every day is CubsFest in SlothWorld.