Saturday, May 28, 2011

FAT KIDS

Remember the fat kid at school? The one everyone made fun of at lunchtime, the one who got pushed down during P.E., the one who had to have his parents pick him up at the school gate so he wouldn’t be tarred and feathered by the rest of the student body? Well here it is 2011 and guess what EVERY KID IS NOW THE FAT KID. Man boobs (or Moobs) on 8 year olds, back fat on 12 year olds at the pool, Jesus it’s sickening. Where are the parents? Probably chowing down themselves. This is an injustice, this is an insult, this is an epidemic—and it’s hard to look at.

From my window I watched a family unloading groceries from their car and trudge back to their apartment. First Father, then Mother, both looked normal—then came THE KIDS. I took the first kid to be a girl at first from his overly feminine features and a set of boobs like a Victoria Secret model but no, it’s a boy, not a man but a girlish pre-teen, creepy and soft as a marshmallow. Then came the other kid, the REALLY FAT ONE, this kid looked like a Hasidic version of Augustus Gloop, almost skipping as he carried his box of pudding cups back to his secret underground lair. With a pair of boobs that would rival my ex-wife’s, bouncing up and down in a loose shirt like some Playboy soft-core porn, giggling and farting away—and I say again…where are the parents? Do they think this is normal, having a he-she and Chaz Bono as their children? Where’s the fucking discipline?

People might not think I’m qualified to comment on parenting since I am not a parent. I only watch the TV and Internet from On High, uninvolved in the day to day nightmare of dealing with spoiled brat kids. Kids that cannot do math, that talk like they text, that think Wii is exercise. Kids that are shattered if their parents can’t provide them with an Ipad 2 to replace their Ipad 1 they got only 6 months ago. Most of you are from my generation, most of us grew up middle-class or lower. Most of us can remember when going out to dinner was a big deal, when getting a bicycle for Christmas was like winning the lottery, when all you needed to be cool at school was a $15 pair of Levi’s. I wax nostalgic…

I see Dr. Drew consoling the parents of a kid getting bullied on Facebook, well here’s a small bit of advice parents, TAKE YOUR KID OFF FACEBOOK. Wow, no more bullying! Didn’t think of that, didja? But how can a kid be socially acceptable these days if he or she doesn’t have hundreds of imaginary ‘friends’ to talk to about absolutely jack shit? How will they grow if they can’t discuss Dancing with the Stars or the newest fart noise App? Who will show them the newest YouTube teen beating or the meaning of Miley Cyrus’s vagina?

When I see a fat kid I wanna slap the parent but I guess I’m not aware of the pressures put on parents. People losing their jobs, food prices sky-rocketing, gas prices, insurance going up and all the while fat Junior is bitching that his Iphone needs an upgrade. Let’s not cook tonight, let’s go to McDonalds, the Xanadu of fatties everywhere. 67 tablespoons of sugar per serving in that Jumbo soft drink, here ya go Jumbo drink it down. And don’t forget your Insulin. Double Quarter pounder, no make that a triple—and a large side of fries. And don’t forget that McSlurry for dessert, 16 ounces of gelatinous syrupy goo sitting on top of that meat and cheese you just chewed into cud, fermenting like a vat of Samuel Addams in that chamber of Horrors you call a stomach. Then its home again to endless video games, hand grenades and hookers, de-sensitized and numb, thumbs blazing as fart after fart slides out of your butt cheeks like an old bent kazoo.

Back fat and beer guts don’t belong on children, they belong on old guys like us, we’ve earned them from years of pushing that stone up the hill. Boys shouldn’t have boobs, girls should have boobs and young boys should squeeze them, often a little too hard. Children are growing up thinking that success is just a reality show away. And, unfortunately, maybe it is.

Jizzy Pearl

No comments: