The Hardest Job In The…, [Snore]
Generally I have little or no patience for parents, largely because I’m quite certain I would be better at parenting than 99.9 percent of the world populace. Want proof? Ride a bus or take a stroll through any grocery store.
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Now, I say this even though I’ve never had spawn of my own. Early on, I told myself I would sire children only under two conditions:
- They must be born adults
- They must live somewhere other than I do
Sadly, this benighted holy land would look askance at such an example of enlightened child-rearing, so I decided to abandon the whole idea.
I imagine the parents among my loyal readership will snort and say, “The jerk. He can say that because he’s never had to raise a kid. It’s the hardest job in the world.”
At which point my eyes roll uncontrollably and, after I regain my balance, I retort that there are some seven billion results of parenting experimentation in the world today and that number includes members of al Qaeda, football fans, stick-up men, wife-beaters, child molesters, compulsive Tweeters, and Republicans. I rest my case.
At the very least, my decision to not procreate means there is one less set of precious urchins you won’t be forced to look at on Facebook. Personal to parents: It is assumed by one and all that your kids will grow. It’s not a terribly fascinating process to the rest of us. (Well, okay, me.)
Anyway, the interwebs are chock-full of blogs written by parents who are convinced they and they alone have thought of the one true, right, and innovative way of raising a brood. These blogs are even less interesting than ten thousand Facebook pix of trophy children.
But I have found perhaps the singular engrossing parenting blog in existence. I recommend it highly. It is called JJKeith.net. This selfsame JJ Keith dame is the real goods, trust me. She has written about raising brats for Salon, Huffington Post, Jane, PopMatters, and even — gulp — the Reader’s Digest. She drops the F-bomb about as frequently as I do, which makes her cool. I doubt, though, the word made it into the Reader’s Digest.
Just go to the blog. It’ll make you laugh. She even calls out “progressive” mom Mayim Bialik for refusing to let her kids be vaccinated. So she’s doing a public service as well.
Now A Mom [Shudder]
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Bang, Times Twelve
Do I need to say even one goddamned thing about this mass shooting at the DC naval yard? I didn’t think so.
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I Saw Her Again
I was leafing through the very fascinating book, A Perfect Haze: The Illustrated History of the Monterey International Pop Festival, this afternoon and came upon a picture of Mama Cass eating a piece a watermelon while watching one of the acts onstage. The choice to include this photo struck me as unseemly, considering the book includes no other pix of rock stars jamming comestibles into their faces. Then again, rock stars generally shy away from food unless it’s a savoy truffle, green onions, or a Mars bar. And, hey, speaking of stupid urban legends, Mama Cass did not choke to death on a ham sandwich.
Cass Elliot
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Anyway, this is a glorious song. The M’s & the P’s delivered perhaps the most brilliant harmonies in the history of R ‘n R. BTW: Listen for John Phillips’ apparent blunder at the 2:44 mark. (Actually, it wasn’t Phillips’ mistake but the engineer’s)
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