Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Seriously, People.

People like this make me violent.

I am normally a very peaceful person, vocal outbursts and snarky blogging notwithstanding. Hell, I don't even much care for children, but damnit, if you're going to be a douchebag to someone, do it to someone in your own age/size bracket.
There is a special place in hell for people who abuse children, seniors, and the disabled, and it involves a very long trip down the cheesegrater slide (which is lubricated with a special blend of lemon juice, tabasco, and vinegar, and dumps you out into a vat of salt).

There is no way that you can blame this kind of abuse on "disturbed children" or "out of control behavior", because, No. Sorry. It doesn't work that way. Sure, I can get on my high horse, because I don't have any kids, but you know what? I don't have kids because I would be a shitty parent. I know it. I'm too much of a self-absorbed prat, who enjoys leisure time and quiet. But I also know that no matter how crappy a parent I'd make, I wouldn't pull my child's finger/toenails out with motherfucking pliers. I wouldn't starve them. I wouldn't shock them with electricity. Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick people, how could you ever, in a million years think that this was appropriate?

I hope to God that these kids get some heavy duty counseling, and a few cheeseburgers, and are kept the hell away from psychopaths like those people. And as much of a believer I am in law and order (and the TV show too...) I hope that the police don't find these parents. I hope a gang of angry biker types do. And they make their last days on earth miserable ones. Because revenge may not be the answer, but it sure would be what they deserve.


On happier child notes- Thanks for the suggestions! My goddaughter actually DOES need a monkey, of the sock variety (because they are inherently good, and, hello- sock monkey!) but I won't be able to whip one up between now and then. Maybe as a valentine's day gift. (And it may be a space monkey at that.) However, she is SO getting a copy of "The Day I traded My Dad For A Goldfish" because her dad and I used to LARP together, and he'd appreciate the art, she'd appreciate the story, and we'll all giggle. Heh.

The mouse cookie dough is done, I simply have to finish the shaping tomorrow, and load them into a shoebox with holes in it... heh. That's the best part.

Had to leave things on a happier note, because, damn...
(If ever there was evidence needed that humans are just a virus with shoes...)


Blogger parcequilfaut said...

They got them, ET.

Have a good weekend.

11:59 AM  

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