That, combined with the fact that most 13-year-olds are shaped like Dom DeLuise with dinner rolls on the backs of their necks and plumber’s crack can lead us to only one conclusion about tomorrow’s generation:
Kids are pussies. You heard me. Big, fat ones. And I, for one, couldn’t be happier.
Look, I’m 36 years old and this is as good as I’m going to get, which isn’t saying much because I’m already falling apart. I forget things. I take prescription pills for blood pressure, migraines and acid reflux. I forget things. At some point they’re just going to start sawing off body parts until I’m a head on a sofa next to a TV remote and a platter of fat-free Cheez-Its.
The fact that childhood obesity has quadrupled in the last 40 years or that kids are suffering from hypertension usually associated with adults is fantastic, because it means that no matter how old I get there’s always going to be somebody younger who’s in even worse shape.
And that’s comforting for a variety of reasons. For one, it’s always nice to be able to look down on someone less fortunate than you are. It’s good for the ego. And what’s good for the ego is good for the soul. Hey, that sounds like a Chicken Soup saying.
What’s more, kids are always getting into trouble and trying to take advantage of their elders. I saw what those young punks did to Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino.
You can’t trust teenagers because they’re all hopped up on the goofballs. Their hormones are going a million miles a minute and at any moment they might do something wacky like blow up your mail box or unscrew all of your sprinkler heads.
At the very least, teenagers are annoying, And maybe if they if they had a few more heart problems they wouldn’t talk so damn much in the movie theater because they’d be too focused on just trying to inhale and exhale.
I do my best to avoid teenagers wherever they congregate: food courts, skate parks, Hot Topic. Sure I smile and act like nothing’s wrong when I see one, but usually I’m just searching for a pressure point to poke.
I’m a big guy now, but bingo parlors and horseshoe courts are full of old geezers who used to be “big guys.” And you’re kidding yourself if you don’t think old dudes keep their wallets in their front pockets and a tight grip on the business end of a cane whenever they shuffle passed a school bus stop.
It’s similar to the uneasy relationship dog owners have with their pets. You love your dog, or at least you love him enough to feed and walk him occasionally. But at his essence your dog is still a wild animal with sharp teeth and a powerful jaw. And you’d try to send him back to mamma if he ever attacked you.
That’s how it is with teenagers. We let them be a part of society with the hopes that at least a few of them will make it all the way to adulthood so they can run things after we retire. And if they’re a little fatter and slower in the meantime, all the better.
We should do everything we can to keep kids away from anything with vitamin D in it such as milk and sunlight. That way they’ll be easier to control. Or if we make kids really fat, we’ll be able to just walk up and tip one over on his back like a helpless turtle.
World of Warcraft, Big Gulp sodas, motorized scooters; I’m all for anything that keeps kids pasty, doughy and inert, like a supersized Twinkie with more cream filling.
That might not sound very compassionate now, but see how compassionate you are when some young punk is trampling your azaleas. Then again, trampling is more exercise than most kids get. They don’t even go outside unless they hear an ice cream truck.
Contact Jeff Girod at firstname.lastname@example.org.