The United States is considered the modern-day Roman Empire of this age. And yet, its slowly succumbing to many internal forces which are destroying the fabric of this society. Our society. An argument could be made that these “forces” are more external, in nature. We should probably account for the global influences at work. Here are some for instance:
- Surging oil prices.
- The War in Iraq.
- The rise of China as an economic Super Power.
- The consistent dwindling value of the US dollar.
- The downward spiral of Mother Nature (a.k.a. Global Warming a.k.a Climate Change)
To name a few.
I agree that these are all valid points and may prove detrimental to the continued existence of well-intentioned republic. But none of these equal to the horror of this…
This fat mess needs to go on a diet. The mother is at fault for giving into his fits of slobbery rage and obvious food addictions. We are witnessing the birth of the next George W. Bush. He may not be the next president of the US, but he’s gonna be someone’s boss. And who wants to put up with a dirt-bag like that.
My introspective of the, “what-should-be-the-greatest-nation” on the Earth (yeah, the USA), will demonstrate how this little bastard should be dropped off at a NAMLBA Summer camp for a week. That’ll shut him up.
The Kid’s Course of Action: In a perfect world, this kid would turn end up like Tom Cruise’s character in “Born on the 4th of July,” paralyzed from the waist down. As a paraplegic, he’ll find his true calling by helping himself and his like. He won’t be the boss of anyone much less a public toilet seat. And he won’t grow up to be a prick.
On a personal note…
I remember the two times I talked back to mom resulted in the following actions;
- The first time I got my ass handed to me by a yellow Wiffle bat for about 2 to 3 hours. I had welts all over and I still had to go to school the next day. What I did wrong: I cut class in 8th grade.
- When I didn’t remember the first time (nor learned my lesson), when disrespecting my mom many, many, moons later. I said something “disagreeing” to her (to this day I couldn’t tell you what it was); my brother later told me I got hit (and concussed) by a frying pan. When I awoke, it was in the wee morning hours on Sunday. This life-changing event occur on Friday evening.
Ironically, my mom still owns the same frying pan and she makes the most slammin’ pork chops. She is quite the gourmet.
A word to the wise, don’t f_ck with MOM. Move out first.. Go kill a hooker, commit vehicular manslaughter, snort cocaine on pregnant teen’s belly, or burn down your old elementary school. But for the love of God, don’t mess with your MOM.