Most Dangerous and Dumb Christmas Gifts in 2016

It was that magical time of year again, and that means it’s time to highlight some problems. On Christmas morning and maybe even on morning of presents for Hanukkah, someone is going to be unlucky enough to have gotten one of these gifts. Just like every year, W.A.T.C.H. is hell bent on ruining Christmas morning like a Muslim in a gay nightclub. While they do highlight some issues with toys, W.A.T.C.H. always misses the worst of the worst and instead focuses on toys targeted at boys and girls simply for being “gender specific”. Here are the actual Most Dangerous and Dumb Christmas Gifts in 2016 which were given.

My Very Own Alibi1. My Very Own Alibi
This toy line is said to have been inspired by the film franchise known as Home Alone, in which a rich white child goes on a killing spree of his neighbors while getting off completely free in protest of being left alone while his family goes out shopping. Pictured is the “Roller Puncture Derby” a la carte version of the toy. Others include the mouse trap with tack and shotgun shell and hand grenade on a sstring, the second best seller. Were do we really begin with this?

First off, the knife isn’t sharp as it needs to be in order to put someone down quickly. Some people might find this as a feature, but we find it to be a minus point to an otherwise ingenious product. Secondly, the skate is very rusty, but the knife is not. We’d give it points for adding tetanus with a dull knife, but since the rust is on the skate and note the blade, this is another minus point. Lastly, there is no ramp with My Very Own Alibi, but the packaging (not shown) clearly shows it flying off a ramp.

Kids have a great imagination, and this is just lazy. The toy has nothing to put together and basically just does one thing: Roll slowly and barely stab someone. Children are going to end up just throwing the toy, which defeats the purpose of what it is trying to accomplish. Stay away and if you get this as a present, get a gift receipt.

Pogoff To Space2. Pogoff Stick: To Space
Claims from the manufacturer:

Feeling XtReMe?! Want to KiSs the SkY?! Well now you can! After three successful pumps to prime the engines, the rockets will kick in and put you close enough to kiss the pilots of MH370 as they fly by on their infinite voyage around the world in space!

Aside from the tasteless reference to the fated Malaysia Flight MH370, there’s also a slightly veiled reference for drugs. Jimmie Hendrix used the term “kiss the sky” for getting intoxicated with drugs.

Even though almost any kid, and many adults, would love to ride on a rocket propelled pogo stick, the fact is, pogo sticks are dangerous. Ever get hit in the chin while riding on one? How about landing at an angle and falling or bouncing into a bush/tree? Imagine that at 147 MPH/236.574 KPH? Yeah, that’s going to leave one bad bump on your head and a pretty bad headache. I think we can all do without this. We don’t want another “Heat Seeking Lawn Darts” fiasco during a picnic, now do we?

My First Lynching Rope3. My First Lynching Rope: The Game
My First Lynching Rope: The Game is a choking hazard in disguise as a harmless family game. If you think The Game of Life is destined to kill your little ones who eat the cars or peg-people, then you’re not worried enough. This game is enough to kill every member of the family, especially any adopted black ones.

The game revolves around getting enough people on your posse in order to lynch the person next to you. Everyone takes turns rolling dice and taking cards while moving around a board. Think of this like Mouse Trap, except you’re the mouse, the noose is the trap, and your neck is the end game. If you can’t play your card fast enough, or have a good enough one, it’s lights out.

What the manufacturer didn’t count on is most of your homes aren’t equipped to have this hang high enough, so you’ll end up either wrapping it around each others necks and pulling, or using something like a door you’ll hope is strong enough to hold up old fat Grannie Christine. There just isn’t enough through going into this game and it shows. Pass this up.

Jihad Jerry4. Jihad Jerry
I mean…wow… This is the follow up the the Ibraheem Toys’ 2014 break out gift My First Jihad. While not directly marketed as an infidel holiday gift, they sure like to time it that way. The packaging is grotesque and 100% real.

Packaging claims it’s “Everything you’ll need to end the Jewish and Christian infidels of their lives!” It contains a child’s Qu’Ran, prayer mat, 4lbs of active dynamite, mask and robe, remote detonation backup device, and a map to local Jewish temples.

The interior booklet claims:

As your children grow and learn, they’ll want to up the destructive force for the glory of Allah. Use this as a great follow up to your My First Jihad toy kit. Praise be to Allah! DEATH TO ALL INFIDELS!

Who are they kidding? The previous kit is almost a 100% death sentence to both your child and their entire day care, so there is no “…grow and learn…” involved. We are talking about Islam, after all. Also, much of the dynamite in the packaging is pretty old and very volatile, meaning there’s a good chance it’ll explode before you put it in a vest and go to school the following day to show off your toy. Pass.

Coke Head Charlene5. Friday Night: Coke Head Charlene
At least your kids are leaning a valuable lesson here: Cocaine is a party and designer drug. Unlike the Medicate Me: Molly! doll from 2014, this doll knows how to “Fuck It Up”, as the box says. This is almost a buy.

What makes this almost a buy? It comes with real cocaine! However, it only comes with 1 gram and a very small straw the doll can use. There are no refills available from the manufacturers, either. This means to get the fix the doll needs to continue being fun you’ll have to go into bad areas or convince the local pharmacist to give you some. You know, for your “nose injury”. Good luck with that. Cocaine is also very expensive, especially for twice cut Colombian. That shit is awesome.

If necessary, a supplemental toy for this one would be the Barbie Spy Squad Cat Burglar Doll which will help your precious angel break into houses and steal her friend’s stash!

Well, there you have another five toys W.A.T.C.H. didn’t care enough to warn you about. We warn you about them, because we care for you. Wrap you child in cling wrap all over their head and paint over it so they never see the horrors of the world. Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!

40 things 90’s and later kids won’t have memories of

Kids from the 90’s won’t know a lot of things…hell even late 80’s kids, which actually makes them 90’s kids. These are the things I remember from the 80’s and 90’s almost all of the people who read this won’t. I was born right in 1980, and realize somethings will just go the way of the dodo.

  1. Waiting two to five years for a movie to come out on VHS

  2. Knowing what the anagram V.H.S. stands for

  3. SNL was fresh, funny, and inventive

  4. Tolerance meant something could still piss you off

  5. Mullets were fashionable

  6. A “long time” meant a minimum of two hours when waiting and in reference to an even it meant it was more than just three years ago!

  7. Action figures were awesome

  8. Getting ONE videogame for Christmas was a huge deal due to cost

  9. Looking through “Wish List Catalogs” was how you found things you wanted for Christmas

  10. Having used a payphone

  11. Knowing why we say “roll down the windows”

  12. Thundercats weren’t anorexic

  13. Talking on a LAN line

  14. Knowing what the sound of a modem is

  15. Sears, JC Penny, and similar retailers selling firearms because it used to be America

  16. Using a GameGenie

  17. Being jealous someone had a PowerGlove

  18. Camping was a treat and not a punishment

  19. Not having to do a Constitutional violation called a 4473 firearm form nor background check

  20. Remembering USSR as a place on the map, not a place in history

  21. The band The Cure who was never called “Emo” nor “Goth”

  22. Gasoline cost $0.98 for 91 Octane

  23. Gas stations would still ask if you wanted “regular or unleaded”

  24. Denny’s was actually delicious

  25. Nintendo and Sega were bitter rivals to the point it was shocking to see Sonic on a Nintendo system

  26. Computers were super fast when a 75MHrz Pentium 1 came out with a 36.6KBps modem

  27. HTML was used to make printers understand how you wanted a document to look when it was printed

  28. Riding around on Big Wheels

  29. You didn’t get suspended for fighting against a bully and it was actually encouraged

  30. If you didn’t listen to your parents, the cops would suggest they whip your little ass

  31. The reason the “dial” icon on a cell phone looks the way it does is because of the old handsets from LAN lines

  32. There were areas where houses weren’t developed and you could go out to shoot, hike, or fish without getting in trouble, none of which were located in the national forests

  33. You didn’t have to pay to stop in national forest areas (fuck you, California)

  34. Tight high-water pants weren’t considered gay

  35. Neon colors were “tubular”

  36. You used the term “tubular” correctly and with gusto

  37. Having watched Max Headroom and liking it

  38. Voltron actually made sense

  39. MTV only had music videos

  40. People socialized by actually hanging out in the same room and talking to each other without electronics!!!!!

Do you love your children..?

Then hire me to beat their ass into submission! Face the facts, people. Your children aren’t special, they aren’t wonderful, but they are way out of control and need a good ol’fashioned ass whooping. I understand that you feel an undeserved sense of exaggerated love for your kids, but the truth is, if you actually loved them, you’d knock some sense into them.

You aren’t loving, you’re a wuss. You’ve been brainwashed into thinking spanking your child is bad for them. You’re probably basing this off the fact you’re a complete and utter waste of genetic material yourself, and try to make the connection that way. Well, while you’re right in knowing how worthless you are, children need a good beating every so often. It’s good for them and good for society!

I offer many services and styles of child beating at low, low prices. Listed below are just a few samples of the type of beat downs I can provide. Remember, all services are rendered separately unless noted otherwise, and for each style of punishment, you will be billed accordingly.
1. Back Handed Boo-Ya
The “Back Handed Boo-Ya” differs from a traditional back hand in the amount of torque and surprise delivered. One shouldn’t confuse this with a pimp slap, as you pimp slap a bitch who isn’t making you money when she should. Children are generally useless and don’t make money at all. Trust me when I say one “Back Handed Boo-Ya” will generally be all it takes to make a believer out of your child. If it doesn’t, I’ll be more than happy to follow it up with one or more of the other ass whoopings listed. For additional charges, of course.
2. El-Kapow!
One of my personal favorites for issuing punishment. The “El-Kapow!” let’s the child know I mean business. By holding the child tightly by skin, hair, or clothing, I will take a giant step while simultaneously dropping my elbow onto their body with enough force to knock out a bull elephant. Unlike other listings, the “El-Kapow!” can be administered up to five consecutive times, or until the child has become unconscious, for no extra fees. As the child screams and cries, I will administer another “El-Kapow!” just so they know the amount of beating is directly related to how much they complain. Personally, I prefer the child to become unconscious, but whatever.

This technique is also extremely useful when children or babies won’t sleep. Instead of pussyfooting around with “Shh…shh…” while rocking them, I’ll use this to remind them it’s not okay to wake up at ungodly hours of the night. After all, you have to work the next day and/or take care of them, so they should respect your “you time”.
3. Drop Kicked Baby
Kids used to receive their first beating during child birth in order to get them to take a breath. Now children are simply subjected to mucus tubes and air-conditioning in order for this to happen, which helps to explain one reason why people have grown to be such whiny and entitled shitheads. To remedy this, I will come in and drop kick your baby the day it is born. Why risk the chance your child will grow up not knowing the score? Let’s give them the heads up right away. Even though this is called “Drop Kicked Baby” I will be more than willing to drop kick a child up to the age of two. However, the older and heavier, don’t expect the distance you would out of a preemie or newborn.
4. Double Dutch
The “Double Dutch” is my special deal for twins or more than one child needing discipline at the same time. I will simultaneously punch one child in the face while kicking the other in the gut, and then reverse the beating order by punching the one I kicked and kick the one I punched. In the event of a third child needing an attitude adjustment at the same time, I will provide a headbutt and then round table the beating. Should four children need beating, I will do the aforementioned, while standing on the chest of the fourth and redistributing the pain as I make my way down the line. For more than four children, I will break them up into groups and dish out the pain accordingly. The great thing about this method is I only charge for the service once for up to five children!
5. British Nanny
I will shake the child like a British nanny. Unlike most of you out there, I know the proper technique. The secret is to put your thumbs on the pectoral muscles while getting a really strong grip around the clavicle and squeezing the posterior side, placing your fingers beneath the scapula. Doing so minimizes support on the neck and maximizes the whipping motion of the head. I don’t just go back and forth, either. I’ll change it up by randomly and rapidly moving to the left and right as well. It’s great to make the little ones no longer cry.
6. Face Palm
Like your memes? Then this one is for you! I will give your kid the ultimate face palm. Anytime your child does something which makes you want to face palm, I’ll give them one instead. This one has some torque behind it. To add some flavor to this treat, I will hold your child’s face against a bag of frozen vegetables first and then give them their slap. I also provide this service to any bitch in your house hold in order to help you tell her what’s up.
So, there you have it. This is just a small list of services I will provide. For pricing and availability, feel free to contact me via phone or e-mail. After, all, you don’t want your child growing up to this guy:

It was aliens!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted 2/10/2013 at 12:21 AM on Xanga

The Tale of Henry Divor

The Tale of Henry Divor
By Anthony Passalacqua

The night had fast arrived, cloaking everything in it’s suffocating blanket of darkness. Looking up to the obsidian sky, Henry Divor could not even see the winking of a single star through the thick cushion of clouds. Pulling tightly at the hooded cloak wrapped about his neck, Henry scanned his surroundings, hoping to find a place to stay for the night. In the near distance a small flicking of light caught his attention and Henry could make out the outline of a farm house.

Grunting to himself, Henry strode toward the farm. To him, each step was an annoyance. He was accustomed to so much more luxury than he currently endured. Through a series of bad decisions he had wasted his great wealth down to absolutely nothing. The days of his greatest indignity of having been to wear the same coat twice in the same month was over. Now he had nothing more than the clothing on his back and the angry memories he wished he could erase. The lap of luxury had been soft and warming, but he was tossed down to the floor like an unwanted child without a second thought. Everyone had turned their backs on him, and so he was even without friends.

Taking another deep sigh, Henry felt something touch his cheek as he quickly moved toward that small beacon of light. A breeze as brisk as the deep winter blew about him and hundreds of snowflakes began to kiss his flesh. Henry quickened his step towards the farm house as the goddess Skadi attempted to wrap him into her frozen embrace. Each snowflake looked like a small star falling from the sky as it amplified what dim amount of light there was. The beauty of the scene would not have been lost to Henry if he wasn’t worried for his own life.

Just when he felt as though his legs would take him no further and the bony hand of death rest on his shoulder, Henry reached the door to the farm house. With three raps Henry notified the owner of his presence. Inside, he could hear a series of muted voices, almost as though from the realm of the dead, spoke to each other before he could hear a series of footsteps approach the door.

With a high pitched whine the door swung open very slowly to reveal a man of many seasons staring at Henry. Behind the seasoned man was a woman of equal state and three young children sitting about a table near a kitchen fire.

“Speak your business, traveler,” the man spoke to Henry, eying him up and down with caution.

“Please, sir, I beseech you, let me enter if just for the night. I am being braced up by death itself and I fear he shall take me in this weather,” Henry replied to the man through frozen lips and chattering teeth.

“I have only the floor to offer you, stranger, but you are welcome…under one condition,” the man informed Henry and opened the door slightly more on it’s crying hinges.

“I do not have much, but anything I can do I shall! Please, speak your price and allow me to stave off death!” Henry pleaded with the man, gripping the door frame with fingers so cold he could no longer feel them.

“I wish for only but a story told to me and mine. We are in dire need of a new one, and my children do enjoy them so,” the man said with a smile, believing his price was more than fair, especially to a desperate man in a snow storm.

“But I…” Henry gasped, holding a frozen hand to his chest with gruff, “But I have no stories to tell! I am nothing more than a man fallen from the lap of privileged. For I have never traveled far from home beside this night…I cannot pay your price. I will not and cannot pay!”

With a snort, the man closed the door more so once again, “I ask only for a story and you cannot even provide that. Even one so made up you refuse, so you will find no sanctuary here!”

Before Henry could speak, the man shut the door with such ferocity that it roared closed loudly even in the howling winds. Pulling the cloak as tightly about him as he could, Henry staggered away from the door and looked around for even a large tree in hopes to bed down behind. A moment of clarity in the storm allowed Henry to spy a large barn not far from the house. With little other option left, Henry began his labored trip to it’s doors.

A deep, bellowing moan came from the large barn door opened it’s gaping maw to allow Henry to enter. Closing the portal behind him, Henry found a small lantern, flint, and a steel knife. Lighting the lantern with his frost cursed hands, he inventoried his surroundings. The barn contained no animals, but had an uncountable amount of hay, some piled high, and a plethora of boxes undoubtedly housing tools or other feed. Walking as far back as he could access, Henry blew out the lantern and lay deep in the hay, where the the wind became his lullaby and he slept.
Henry did not know how long he slept, but he was now feeling much better and did not feel the Grim Reaper tapping his foot, counting down to the harvest. The winds outside no longer sang their tune of bitterness come and through a separation in the barn construction, Henry could almost make out the stars.

Suddenly he became of what had woken him from the tender cuddle of sleep: A series of voices rapidly approaching the barn. Like a prairie dog alerted to the incoming dangers, Henry buried himself into the stack of hay he was using as a bed.

Preceded by a series of laughs, the barn door swing open almost silently and with the speed of the wind. Quickly catching his breath in his throat, Henry did not see the farm owner nor his family. Instead, three giants stomped into the middle of the barn, trembling the ground as they walked. The largest of the giants would rival the old Titans in physique and had a long, white beard. The second of the giants had fiery red hair, a hooked nose, and was very skinny. The third giant, short as he may have been was still four heads taller than Henry, was chubby and was dragging a long white sack behind him.

“I told you this place would be useful,” the second of the giants spoke with a booming voice.

“Yes, it will suit our purpose for this night,” the largest of the giants spoke with a rich baritone, “Let us build the fire here.”

Dropping the white sack, the third of the giants began to help them build a pile of wood and hay in the middle of the barn.

“This one will taste delicious!” the smallest of the giants stated, wiping some drool from his chin.

“Yes, we were lucky to find him wandering about at such a night!” the largest of the giants said with a chuckle, slapping the smallest of the giants on the shoulder.

Deep fear pierced Henry’s entire being when he came to the understanding the contents of the sack were that of another human being. With the tightness of a noose, his throat closed, preventing him from swallowing even the smallest of droplets. Coughing, Henry quickly covered his mouth and gasped aloud, knowing that his hiding place would soon be discovered. All three giants turned and looked into his position and began their large strides to his sanctuary. The largest of the giants reached down into the hay, and with one hand lifted Henry into the air.

“This of you I do beg! Please, spare my life and I shall be forever in your debt! For not a soul I shall speak of this to!” Henry pleaded with widened eyes as he kicked about in the air.

“What is your name, puny man?” the largest of the giants questioned, bringing Henry ever closer into his face. The odor of breath from the giant was nearly unbearable to Henry and he gagged slightly at the pungent smell.

“Henry…Henry Divor!” Henry gave a muffled shout through his hands as he covered his nose and mouth.

The largest giant tossed Henry to the ground as though he were a sack of potatoes. Scurrying to get up, Henry looked over to see the body, still wrapped up, not more than an arm’s reach away.

“Well then, Henry, Henry Divor. Do our bidding and we will let you live. String this body and hoist it into the air, then build a fire and help us cook it, or else it will be your body next we be cooking!” the largest of the giants ordered.

Unable to speak and in dire fear for his life, Henry began to do as he was ordered. Quickly he tied a rope about the body and through it over the rafters. With the speed unmatched in his life, Henry then built a large hay pile in order to start the fire. Grunting to one another, the giants gave a nod and then headed out of the barn.

The second largest of the giants stopped and shouted back at Henry, “Cook him well for our return, or we will cook you next!”

Henry could think of nothing more than to obey these giants in exchange for his life, so he began to cook the body. The fires roared and heated the barn, but the flames began to lick the sack and rope which was keeping it held up. Before long, the sack began to burn and the rope caught fire, dropping the body into the flames before the tired Henry could do anything about it. Watching in horror as the body turned black with char, Henry’s eyes filled with pools of tears. Hearing the sound of the giants returning, Henry rushed out of the barn as fast as he could.
Working their twilight magic on him, the stars were making Henry more tired than he would be even with his full run down the moonlit road. He did not know how long he had been running away from the barn, but Henry knew it was not yet far enough, however, he could go no further. Crawling off the main path, Henry found a deep bush which would offer him shelter from both sight and from the night. Moments after settling down, Henry once again drifted off to sleep, assured he was now safe from the horrific scene which had played out to him.

Frantic dreams haunted him as he slept on the dampness of the ground. Shifting his position, whispers crawled through the night, tickling his hear. Stiffening his body like a rod of iron, he carefully peered through the thistle branches of the bush from where he was attempting to sleep. Shadows at first, three figures began to move ever closer as they chanted a haunting tune as they walked. Larger still the figures become, until Henry realized they were the giants who would most certainly punish him for ruining their dinner.

Each step of the three giants reverberated along the ground as they crashed through the snow riddled road. Acid rose up into Henry’s throat as his fear overtook him, and he gasped out loud. Pausing next to his bush, the giants began to look around.

“I know I heard something,” the second largest of the giants remarked, searching the sky.

“I did as well,” stated the largest of the giants, who began to scan the horizons.

“Oh, we most certainly did!” the smallest of the giants exclaimed. With speed unthinkable, the smallest of the giants reached into the bush and pulled Henry through the bush, cutting his skin on each of the needles. Throwing him to the ground, the smallest of the giants began laughing heartily.

“Well, now. Henry, Henry Divor!” the largest giant laughed, dropping the charred body to the ground, “You have made us miss our dinner!”

“Please, no! I beg of you! Show me mercy!” Henry begged on his knees.

“Mercy? We shall show you mercy…for a short time!” the second largest of the giants exclaimed, picking Henry up and handing him the burned body.

“Follow us now with the ruined meal, or we will eat you this moment!” the smallest of the giants reminded him. Saying nothing, Henry began to follow the giants through the night until they reached a small graveyard.

“Dig, Henry Divor!” the largest of the giants demanded as he thrust a shovel at him, “Dig a a grave for this ruined meal or it will be your grave we be digging next!” With trembling hands, Henry began to dig as feverishly as he could. Taking a few minutes to watch Henry work to make sure he was doing a good job, the giants moved further away and began to whisper amongst themselves.

As the night wore on and the hole began to grow up to his waist, Henry was trembling with exhaustion. His hands were blistered, bleeding, and in agony. his back felt as though it would snap and he could no longer stand straight up. He long ago stopped crying simply because he had not the hydration in his body to continue doing so.

Soft as a mouse squeak, he heard a sound he was familiar with, and so he paused at his work. The three giants sat back to back, arms folded, heads down, deep in the world of sleep. At first Henry believed this to be a trap and feared to move even his eyelids. Watching the rhythmic raise and fall of each giants chest, he grew braver and began to walk towards them, as they were between him and the exit to the fenced in graveyard.

When the giants did not move as he stepped over the second largest’s legs, he began to run as fast and hard as his broken body would allow. The soothing morning’s light was beginning to shine its golden hue across the sky, lifting his spirits with each step. Close in the distance was a small town, and so he quickened his pace, desperate for the freedom and security he hoped it would provide.
For four years Henry Divor worked in the small town, learning new trades, and once again building a comfortable life. Each winter brings those dreaded memories back to him, as he relives that cursed night every time his head lays upon his pillow during a snow storm. He tries to push it aside, but feels the tapping of the reaper with each passing second during the memory.

This day, however, was a bright spring day filled with excitement. Henry Divor was being honored tomorrow in the town for his contributions over these years. Once a stranger, and now a welcomed member of their community.

Needing a new outfit for the ceremony, Henry hurried that morning to a tailor in the next town over. The trip itself was unremarkable through the green hills, save for a few passing caravans. Upon reaching his destination, Henry hopped down from his cart and tied his horse to the post. It was then fear struck Henry almost into paralyzation once again.

As the door to the tailor’s opened, the largest of the three giants stepped from the shop, dressed in a fine suit. Henry’s mouth became dry, his knees quaked, and the sweat fell instantly from his brow like rain from a storm cloud. Hearing a gasp, the giant turned his head and looked Henry straight in the eye.

“Well, now! Henry Divor!” the giant laughed and reached for him.

“No! No, please!” Henry screamed and began to run with a new found energy. His legs moved so quickly, he nearly tripped himself multiple times as he dashed between people on the street. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how loud his heart beating in his head was, the giant’s footsteps were always directly behind him.

“Got you!” the giant exclaimed as he grabbed Henry by the shoulder and spun him around.”

“No, please! I am sorry for everything those many years ago! Please, do not kill me!” Henry begged. The giant simply let out a hearty laugh and rubbed Henry’s head.

“No, Mr. Divor, I am not going to kill you. Nor am I going to give you labors,” the giant stated with a soft smile.

“Then…I don’t understand…” Henry quivered, falling to his knees.

“Mr. Divor, I am glad you remember me!” the giant chuckled helping him up, “Now when asked, you have a good story to tell! And if you don’t mind coming over for dinner…my family and brothers would love to hear your version of events!”

When you’re ahead of the school system (s)

I can’t honestly tell you how I came up with the memories.  My brain works on a lot of slippery slope transitions…such as looking at a street light can remind me of a pie I ate three years ago after about ten seconds.

For some reason, opening the ‘fridge, I was reminded of the time that I read the book “The Hobbit”, then saw a cartoon version of it in fifth grade.  When I was watching the cartoon in class, I remember thinking, “I know this story…”  I brought it up to my teacher and told her that I’ve read the book.  Her response to me?  “I doubt that.”

I was a little confused and asked her why.  She told me, “No one in fifth grade is required to read The Hobbit and it’s not a book someone who is ten years old would have read.”  So, to prove her wrong, I recounted the entire story, including my favorite quote by Bard, “You’ve never failed me, and I’ve always recovered you.  I had you from my father and from of old.”  Needless to say, she was a little shocked that I not only had read the book, but I could quote it.  She was even more shocked to find out I had read “two other stories” about his nephew…which obviously are Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers.  It would be another four years before I could get my hands on Return of the King.

All that reminded me of other times I had been ahead of the school system.  In fourth grade we were told to read James and the Giant Peach…a book I had already read from start to finish, though hadn’t remembered the name of.  The teacher was the one reading it to us and I had mentioned that I knew the story as well.  I recounted the characters and a few of the adventures.  The teacher didn’t know what to say, and had thought I was making it up to get out of the reading time.  I wasn’t.

During my sixth grade year I had read the book “Serendipity’s Song”, only to have the class read it as one of the final books.  I also read the book “Devil on My Back”.  It’s a really good story and was a lot of fun to read.  I was then required to read it in eighth grade…

Why is it assumed that kids and people couldn’t possibly have read certain books?  I had read War and Peace in seventh grade because I heard a lot about it.  Just because I’m not required to read something doesn’t mean I won’t.

I’ve been privileged with the entire Chronicles of Pern books, and I’ve been reading them every single day.  I still can’t get my hands on a hard copy of “Paradise Lost”, which I desperately want to read.

Seriously, it would piss me off so bad when people, especially teachers, would try to tell me that there was no way I knew about certain books or items.  I mean, they used to give me write ups for “reading too much”, but I wasn’t advanced enough to read certain books?  One teacher, in second grade, said that if I wasn’t reading in the “Blue Jay” levels, then I wasn’t actually reading some books.  The issue is, the way the teaching was done is totally different than the way I was understanding the books.  The tests she gave wasn’t on reading comprehension…but word problems and things like that.

Honestly, I think they just didn’t like me.  What else is new?  You’re reading from a guy who had required essays given zeros five times before my actual teacher gave me a passing grade because of the subject matter.  I guess when you’re 14 to 17 years old and in high school, graphic literary descriptions of the dead walking or how a bullet rips through a human throat isn’t something they want to give an A+ on, even when it’s written above standard.

Posted 5/27/2010 at 7:24 PM on Xanga

Horrors on the Internet

Let’s face it…there are some creepy things out there on the Internet, and not all of them creepy in that strange, fun way. No, I’m talking about the kind of creepy that makes you go, “What are they doing that for?” or even the all common, “What the hell?!”

For some people, it’s their job to make creepy things, but they do it in purpose. For other people, they are creepy and don’t understand how or why. This brings me to my current write up.

There’s a lady who will take your kids, do a horrible Photoshop job on it, and turn them into grotesque plastic representations of their true selves. Yes, for too much money, you can have your ugly, fat, troll baby turned into a plastic, stiff, ugly, fat, troll baby in a picture. Let’s take a look at some of the examples here…

To the right you can easily see a horribly washed out photo of a child as she tries to be as happy as possible after being forced to dress up for the camera. As if this wasn’t torture enough for everyone involved, Mommy and Daddy have decided they want their child to be turned into a “perfect picture”. The result?

This horrible abomination to the left. See, Mommy and Daddy obviously aren’t happy just to have a picture of their little girl. Oh, no, they must have all the imperfections of their little girl smashed out of the picture with a clone tool. Now they have someone and something to be really proud of when they show off their child. Too bad their child now looks like she’s had wax melted across her face and had it reshaped how they think it should be. They even touched up the hair to make it seem more perfect.

You sick fucks for parents! There’s more torture of this poor girl. I’m thinking this wasn’t Mom’s idea, either.

Okay, seriously, what the hell? It wasn’t bad enough to make her look like hell in the previous pictures…you had to do this? Who the hell, in their right mind, has their child dress up like this, and then edited to look even more grown-up and plastic?

Really, the photo should be this:

Jordenn2 Editl-Right SideAmber alert, fifteen minutes.

Now, some of you might be thinking it’s not really all that bad. First off, you’re sick in the head for thinking so, and second off, I’m just getting started here.

Smashed Faced Lauren It’s not just little kids, it’s older kids. Here’s what must be a girl who was run over by a truck and had her face smashed flat! Seriously, it cannot be just me who thinks she looks like she’s a Hannah-Barbarra character and just got bashed in the face with a frying pan. What the hell is up with her eyes, too?

It’s like someone said, “Hey, I’ve got this daughter who just isn’t quite up to par…so what I want you to do is stretch the few good patches of skin all over her face. Oh, and she has this wicked lazy eye and I want you to pull that into place using a photo editing program. No, I don’t care how much it costs…and do the same thing with the rose I want her to pose with. Make it look like everything in the picture is that way, so it makes her look, you know, natural!”

Ashlyn WhoreWhat do you do when your daughter is already a little guido princess bitch? You let Alycia Collins make her look like a little guido princess whore! Yes, that’s right, you too can have your daughter edited to look like the slut you knew in high school. This gives everyone a great “heads up” as to your knowledge of her future extra-curricular activities as she enter puberty.

Jar-Jar JessicaHave a child with down syndrome and you’re ashamed? Well, don’t worry, because Supreme Pageant Photos has you covered there, too. You can have your child’s face smashed, smooshed, and morphed to look as normal as possible. Of course…this “normal” looks a lot like this:


Vianne Collins - PumpkinFaceYou know…this kid just doesn’t look like a pumpkin quite enough yet! I know I’m not as good as this Alycia Collins (I mean, she has an AOL e-mail address for her professional business after all), but I’m going to try my hand at it.

Well, look at that! The kid’s all ready for Halloween! I guess I’m better at this than I originally thought, huh?!

Horror Child Holy crap… Yes, this is the edited image! Like this kid isn’t horrifying enough! I mean…I can be cruel, but what could I possibly say that would make the parents of this little afterbirth feel worse??? Yeah, I can’t think of anything either!

Posted 10/3/2008 at 5:47 PM on Xanga