burnunit: (madness)
burnunit ([personal profile] burnunit) wrote2007-09-14 07:39 am
Entry tags:

laugh out loud scary

Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] rubel I've been reading The Last Psychiatrist lately and I love it. Today's entry is so horrifyingly amazing I can't see straight. And the guy is totally dead on. Wow. You know me, I'm not one to judge, but if anyone makes me feel okay judging, it's the Last Psychiatrist. I suspect that's part of his program, actually--sort of like an inoculation against this degraded, mush headed era of... judgmentlessness (??).

Anyway, [livejournal.com profile] mrs_lovett and I used to talk about a "yoink" game--and in a way it was a little bit fascist--coming up with the most dramatically over the top way to force idiot jerkoffs to stop fucking up their kids. Think of The Simpsons when a character appears onscreen to swipe something--a tasty danish, or Jasper Johns taking Marge's painting off the roof--the "yoink" sound. Actually here's a list, for your edification. You know how it goes.

Well, imagine that sound in those uncomfortable moments when you see a woman grab her kid's arm in the grocery store, swat his butt and say "stop that you little shit." You just kind of want to yoink the "little shit" and run off. Mind you, I'm probably guilty of a yoinkable offense here and there--start the car, drive a block, kid starts wailing in the back seat "Daddy you forgot to buckle me!"; or last week when I (oh lord I didn't mention this did I?) started out of the bakery with Eleanor, make a u turn in the doorway and say "oh yeah, we probably need to grab your brother in the car seat over there before we go." Yoink--especially since I was in the tony Linden Hills neighborhood and no doubt some nanny state soccer mom would gladly subject me to a lousy lecture about the traumatizing effects of my absentmindedness.

Not to mention, if i did yoink the kid in my other example, I'd have to feed the little shit, which I'm categorically unprepared to do. We like to joke ha-ha "joke" about those times when we're about to go into the store or someplace and Eleanor says "can Henry come too?" and, both of us just laugh. "No sweetie, Henry's going to sit in the car and wait... for child services..." Actually that joke (a loose term at best) has broad applications in our private jokebook. "Sweetheart daddy's going to go fix a drink. You just wait here until child services comes." After we put both kids to bed, I've asked Leann, "You wanna go get ice cream? The kids'll probably stay asleep, at least long enough until child protective services come." Leann's probably got a lot better set of examples which I'm hoping she'll contribute in the comments.

Seriously though, read that Last Psychiatrist article. My anxiety about the "in their twenties, both obese" depiction notwithstanding, that is a serious yoink.

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