Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Satire- Parental control



(I wrote this in the first person as I previously anticipated it to be spoken in front of a live audience)
Satire in Carlin form
            You know what grinds me up about parents?  The fact that they are full of crap at least half the time.  I'd like a little consistency in my parenthood.  I'd rather have parents who prove to me that life sucks and it's going to come fast.  Or semi-realistic parents who care.  Not to say that my parents don't care--because they do--because they prove to me over and over that the world is inconsistent and entirely unaccountable for anything.  
            The thing that really bugs me is that because they're full of crap half the time and the fact that most of the things they say are terribly inconsistent and that just makes me think of one reasonable conclusion.  Every parent needs serious help for Bipolar personality disorder.   Whenever we're at a restaurant and they're having a good time and my sister and I are having a good time, I say "God I love you people."  Whenever they're terribly pessimistic and telling me that my dreams will never come true because they're children's dreams and that I'm a mega idiot or nimrod or whatever because I forgot to turn in a half-point summative assignment. The main thing that bugs me about this is that they're also trying to encourage me to think like a child and have all original ideas, so you're going to have to figure that one out yourself.  But they want me to be all Einstein and do everything and be the perfect child.  But whenever I mess up a test or forget an assignment--it's all, "You're gonna fail", "You're Stupid", "You're going to be turnin' a wrench your whole life", "You're going to be learning Spanish with the illegal immigrant workers real soon."  Everything is the same.  No one says, "just do it tonight and tell the teacher that you're sorry for the grading inconvenience."  No one says that.  Apparently it didn't occur to my parents that I understand that I messed something up.  All it is, is them rubbing it in. 
            It's going to be great when I can come home to not complaining.  And they always told me not to complain.  All of this just boils down to eighteen years of parental hypocritical complaining of them trying to take credit for my minor scholastic achievements.  Every day they tell me "Son, I hope you invent some million dollar idea that will support us in our retirement", or "I want you to write a new song and be the next Justin Berber (So you can make a billion dollars and support us when we retire)."
            That's all it is, and you'd better get used to it folks--you better get used to it because it will only stop after one of two things happen.  Either the untimely death of your superiors or when you get your own house.  But, the problem with having your own house is that now you get harangued by your boss at work.  The only good thing is that you have all the liberty in the world to go on the internet, go to fmylife.com, and complain about it because no one is there to tell you not to complain.
            Another reason I think my parents do this is because of my Cousin C.J. I'm pretty sure you're already wondering, "Well Colt, what's wrong with your cousin C.J.?"  Again don't get me wrong, I love my cousin but he's making me look bad and giving my parents a bad example.  He was taught his ABCs at six months old!  He maintained above a 6.0 GPA and got a perfect score on his SATs.  Here's where I stop understanding him, is that UMBC gave him a full scholarship and he turned it down! But now he lives in California and (Other than women) he's studying to become an aerospace engineer.  He's the same story as Ben Franklin, the chicks dig him because he's a genius.  He's raising my family's standards.  Now they compare me to C.J. and that means I have to be perfect!  Just like him!  But you know what, at least my parents know that if I can't become a freaking astronaut, that I have the mental capacity to write a few good songs, so that way they can live in a mansion for their retirement and give it to their grandchildren.  If they wind up in a home after all, they'll know that I've overcome their attempts to warp my mind into giving them all of my money so they could live out all of the things they never did themselves. 
            This reminds me over and over that America will always depend on the next generation.  Because the previous generation is either one of three things: Twisted and warped into a government drone; a scumbag politician, businessman, lawyer, or lobbyist; or just plain fat and lazy.  I think it's time to start our new political party, after all of these connections from parents to examples set by others to the big three American slackers.  We'll even give it a cool acronym for those youngsters out there.  We'll call it GINTA.  Government Is Not The Answer.  Thank you very much ladies and gentleman.

No comments:

Post a Comment