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Do your homework, you son of a bitch!
There have been a lot of shows coming out recently that highlight nannies who come in and straighten out a bunch of crazy, disrespectful, stupid-as-shit, children. It’s super fucking stupid. All the nannies are British and they act like know-it-alls. I would never hire one of those idiots as a nanny. If someone pays a nanny to raise their kids for them, their genitals should be ripped from their body and a knife should be stuck in their thigh. The genital rip-off, of course, symbolizes the curbing of their reproductive ability. The knife in the thigh, well, the knife in the thigh is an awesome move and it should be done to somebody. Why not a fucking moron?
The thought may have crossed your mind, “Well, raising a child is difficult- it’s not as easy as you think!” Then you probably started crying and drove your kid to soccer practice. My reply is simple. I believe raising a child is easy. I won’t stop there. Not only is it easy, but I will tell you the secret to success. Unconventional measures may occur, but optimum behavior will be achieved.
The day after my son’s birth, construction will begin in my backyard. Experts with tape measures will check every angle. In a cloud of sawdust, my behavior modification system will be complete. I’m sure I will be the only house on the block with an Ultimate Fighting Championship octagon ring in my backyard. I know what you are thinking: “Beating your kids is not cool!!” I agree, beating your kids is not cool, but training your kid in the martial art of death fighting is way cool. They will be the toughest kids in school. The program I have planned goes something like this.
I’ll let him skate by until the ideas of right and wrong are formed, and he has a decent understanding of the English language. I will take him to the basement one day and unveil my Household Ultimate Fighting Championship trophy to him. I’ll explain that we’ll have two leagues that compete for the championship. One league will be called the “Dads”; the other team will be called the “Sons.” I’ll go on to explain that I’m the sole member of the “Dads,” and he is the only member of the “Sons.” He’ll think his old man is kinda crazy, until he comes upstairs and sees the fight promotion posters I stayed up all night making spread across the walls like paint. Then he’ll think that I’m legitimately crazy.
I’ll order him to his room to get ready for the match. Then I’ll stretch out and do some calisthenics. It takes him a little over ten minutes to come out to the octagon. I have my wife ring the bell, and wait to see his first move. He creeps toward me, one step at a time, with a nervous shuffle. This would be my first and only opening. I leap across the octagon, punch him in the throat, and sweep his legs from underneath him. Before I raise my hand in victory, I’ll lean over with some advice like “Eat your vegetables.” I’ll promise that to myself and the boy. Each beating, I mean match, will have a lesson. I’ll compose a giant list of them. “Keep your eye on the ball.” “Give your best effort.” “Believe in yourself.” “Stay the fuck away from your sister’s dolls.” The helpful words of fatherly advice will be preceded with arm bars and uppercuts that really drive a point home. After the match, I will inform him that we will re-match every time he pisses me off. I’m sure he will probably challenge this threat at some point and force my hand. Maybe he’ll goof of at school or not clean his room. It is then that he will get off the bus one day and see a new fight promotion poster on the front door. I will think of awesome slogans like “Father Versus Son 2: Mom, Hide Your Eyes!” These will be big time events, occurring each and every time he pisses me off.
This plan would remain static for the first 11 or so years. I’ll cut back my time at work to start karate lessons at the YMCA. I might even get some of those Chinese-symbol tattoos that mean shit like “inner-strength” and “vitality.” A mohawk and beard are not out of the question either. I figure by the time the boy is 17 or so, my declining age and his ascending height and weight will tip the scale of advantage to his side. This is when I will retire, and hire a real Ultimate Fighter to join the “Dads.” He will have to fend the boy off for a year or two before I send him off to college. I would much rather hire an Ultimate Fighter than a stupid nanny. The Muppet Babies had a nanny, and they were all pussies.
That’s the plan. It's greatness probably has you fooled into thinking it’s abusive or some shit like that. I say it’s a healthy alternative to hiring a nanny. It’s also easy. The way I see it, it’s the only way.
"The Muppet Babies had a nanny, and they were all pussies."
Classic.
Jason
Awesome
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Posted: 9/12/2005 3:38:32 AM
I think you could start your own chain of dojos for this. Sadly, one of the actual UFC dojos has already taken the "Cobra Kai" name.
And you have to have all your fights reffed by "Big" John McCarthy.
deuce
i am in tears...
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Posted: 9/12/2005 6:32:02 AM
The knife in the thigh, well, the knife in the thigh is an awesome move and it should be done to somebody. Why not a fucking moron?
absolutely awesome. thank you.
Lorenzo
FUCK YEAH
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Posted: 9/12/2005 9:13:18 AM
This was AWEsome! I laughed at work and I usually subdue my emotions in the cubicle. Good work, bro.
Atlas
Hells Yeah
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Posted: 9/12/2005 9:53:17 AM
You should write a fucking book. This enters the pantheon of great articles.
albanian guy
Great
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Posted: 9/12/2005 10:56:17 AM
This was a really good read thanks, laughed my ass off.
Gordon
Un-B-Lievable
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Posted: 9/12/2005 11:40:05 AM
One of the funniest things i have read in a while. Don't even really know where to begin. Turned a pathetic and weak man, destroyed after a long weekend, into a happy one. Thank you.
TR
Genius...
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Posted: 9/12/2005 12:07:16 PM
Brilliant...simply brilliant. This article is an instant classic.
JP
Yes
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Posted: 9/12/2005 12:18:13 PM
It's about time somebody called out the goddamn Muppet Babies.
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