Not Only Does My Son Have A Learning Disability, He's A Complete Idiot

Other than providing us televised sports and microwave burritos, civilization sucks. It's allowed man to sublimate nature and natural selection so he may cram more of his spawn into the ever shrinking sardine can known once as god's green acres, but the product of his incessant rutting has become increasingly diluted. With few exceptions, contemporary man no longer has to fend for him or herself within the harsh reality of a natural environment, and so they're free to arbitrarily redefine or ignore aspects of the real world they don't like in order to fool themselves into feeling better.

The fairy tales associated with religion, and especially where we come from and where we go when we die are classic examples, but a more contemporary manifestation is the trend towards promulgating the notion that every person is wonderful even as we as a species become more worthless, fat and stupid. More and more our society is taking on the semblance of a Special Olympics competition, where everyone gets a medal and a hug no matter how many wrong turns they take and trees they collide with.

Take my son (please). If you accept the word of his mother and teachers, he's a fine boy with enormous potential hampered only by a single uncommon obstacle which, if he applies himself well enough, could easily be overcome. A learning disability they call it. I call it hogwash. The kid's fucking stupid, plain and simple. His head might be the size of a beachball, but it too is full of warm, sour air. If it weren't held in place by the skin of his neck, it could be swatted around the bleachers at Dodger Stadium on a warm August afternoon.

Exhibit A: Junior's Russian History Quiz (Perhaps he can be teacher someday)

How many Nobel Prize winners were sent home sick from high school twice in a year for eating paint? Did Albert Einstein have to be told repeatedly to take his hand out of his pants in public when he was fifteen? How many times did Leonardo Da Vinci's dad have to make a special trip to the store for 2-ply toilet paper because the 1-ply hurt young Leo's butthole and made him cry? If it's more than ten then maybe I'm wrong and there's hope for him yet, but I doubt it. The kid's a mess. He's not aesthetically and physically challenged; he's an ugly spaz. The term 'odoriferously unique' is an equivocal euphemism that fails to describe the bleachy fish stench that exudes from his pores, and is exactly the sort of pernicious untruth that will keep his self esteem artificially inflated long enough for it to explode in one violent, catastrophic eruption somewhere down the road - and probably under a bridge, where he, owing in large part to an absence of a job market for inept arsonists, will find himself domestically deprived, and likely involuntarily celibate.

How many species of animals could get away with this nonsense in the wild? The answer: zero. Which is why the boy will never leave our home on his own, the wife will never let me give him the boot, and I'm doomed to suffer the tortures of the damned until the merciful reaper comes a callin'.