Another School Shooting: Why I'm not surprised

If you’re easily offended, step off this blog – this shit ain’t for you

I woke up this morning to news of another school shooting. This one taking place in Maryland. It doesn’t matter any more where they happen. They aren’t isolated events and they aren’t relegated to impoverished communities. So, what I want to know is: which households want to borrow my mom?

I’m not any more surprised to hear news of school shootings than I am to witness children acting a damn fool in public. I can join hands with the people in my communities and argue that gun control is needed, but I feel that fundamentally something more is missing. I don’t speak for anyone else when I say this, so get your pitchforks and flaming shit sacks ready. Children are entitled little pricks because we let them get that way and they need to get the shit scared out of them.

I was terrified of my mother – that shit is healthy as fuck. She never beat me, even though I’m sure I deserved it. I respected the shit out her. You wanna know who I respected even more than her? My grandfather. I wish that guy was still alive. He oozed control and demanded your attention and respect. He would beat your ass though. They were different times then. No doubt my mother got her ass handed to her; she let that experience shape her in such that she vowed not to do the same to me. Believe that she just had to look at me though and I knew I was in deep shit. As a child, I raised my voice just once in a most disrespectful way. What happened? She slapped me. Want to know what didn’t happen? I never talked shit like that again.

Our children today are coddled entirely too much. In my opinion we are partially to blame for the tragedies taking place. We allow our children to “express themselves” and be “uniquely their own person” even when it interferes with a greater good. Our offspring become so damned “special” and precious that we never want to stifle their individualism. Guess what? We’ve created narcissistic little twats that run around thinking that they’re the center of the goddamned universe. Vainglorious little monsters. Monsters with access to technology.

I know parents who let their children call them by their first names or do some other disrespectful shit and then offer things like: “Johnny’s therapist suggests that we let him go through this phase and support his emotional journey”. Fuck you, that’s bullshit – grow a pair. You allow that kid to walk all over you and they will. Not only will he or she walk all over you, but they’ll think that’s appropriate behavior to take out into the world too. Why? Because you fucking taught them that! I’m in no way, shape, or form endorsing beating your kids. This isn’t 1950. But just for shits and giggles, let’s look at the stats on school shootings in 1950.

http://www.k12academics.com/school-shootings/history-school-shootings-united-states#.WrFM-MPwZhE

So, Timmy doesn’t feel special and maybe his gluten allergy is acting up and the Ritalin isn’t working the way it used to. His assignment didn’t get the grade he thought it should have (because he’s an entitled little shitstain) and his therapist took the week off. One thing leads to another, you keep letting him “honor his emotional journey,” which honestly just means that Timmy runs amok, and Timmy has the internet at his fingertips. Next thing you know there's Amazon packages at your door for his "school project". Kids are clever – more so than we sometimes give them credit for. Timmy likes attention and any attention will do. You may think this is a stretch, but I beg to differ.

Maybe mental illness is a factor? Ok, sure, I’ll bite. As an adolescent I was prone to depression and anxiety. I was on medication to help with this. I can’t tell you for certain if the crap worked or not. If you ask me I was just a pissed off teenager. We’re all so happy to label something as broken and feed it pills. I fell into this category. My parents were sure I was broken, my therapist concurred, and my psychiatrist was happy to issue me meds. I eventually used those same meds to try to OD. Stomach pumping is not my favorite thing in the world. Shitting the bed after they make you drink charcoal - also, not my favorite pastime. Do you know what I didn’t do? I didn’t get a gun and go shoot up a school despite being terribly sad and feeling as though my world was ending. Gee, that’s novel. Why didn’t I? Because I’m a moral motherfucker and I feared what my parents would do. The way it ought to be; in my opinion. You can’t tell me that these kids don’t know right from wrong. They just think they’re better than others; that their lives are more valuable or that the lives of others aren’t - and that is utter bullshit.

I’ll ask you again – anyone want to borrow my mom for a week or two? I think my Dad is kind of busy and honestly, I think he’s gone a little soft. Mom will tear your kid a new asshole though. Hell, she might even rip you apart for being a spineless piece of shit. You’ll never meet a woman who will support your every endeavor with such fire you think she’ll burn down stadiums and tear you apart with mere words when it’s earned quite like my mother. I love her, fear her, and respect her – that’s how it should be. That’s just my opinion. What do I know? You don’t have to trust or believe anything I say. Fact: I have never shot anyone, I’ve never beaten my child, and I don’t expect that he will either.

Curran says “please” and “thank you”. Curran also says “fuck” and “shit” because I allow him to “honor his fucking journey” but when he acts a damn fool or does some shit that’s outta line, he gets his little ass checked because I’m his mother and that’s my goddamned job.

Commence dookie throwing now…