July 17, 2004 by s.z.

"The indifference is so thick you can cut it with a pocket knife" As I mentioned below, I love TBogg's take on this week's America's Worst Mother™ tale.  Our story this week (variously titled Meet my Scrimshaw Man, "First Blood," or "Ward? I'm worried about the Beaver. No. Not that one...") is about another unfortunate incident suffered by one of the Gurdonettes.  Tom cuts away all the biffing and the extraneous children, and gets to the meat of the story: Meghan loves her son very, very much; he is the most manly son ever; and all medical personnel and other women in positions of authority are indifferent, incompotent ninnies who fail to realize the specialness of Meghan's children, and someday Meghan will make them all pay! Anyway, this time, it's son Sebaceous who is maimed, lost, or traumatized for life.  And it's only right that the column focus on him, because he's Meghan's pride and joy, and the husband's "heir."  (I imagine the girls will be thrilled knowing that they will get nothing when their parents finally take that dirt nap).  So, as mentioned before, this week Meghan lets the heir (the only child who is actually the husband's) take up the manly pursuit of whittlin' crayons and colored pencils -- and the expected happens, requiring a trip to the ER.  Unfortunately, since the incident occurred while Meghan and the brood were visiting George Washington, Meghan doesn't have time to take her little man to the "upper-class, whites only" hospital they normally patronize, and the staff makes a kid with a cut hand wait with the common folks.  Worse yet, they do not seem to even CARE that blood came out of Sebaceous's finger and got on Meghan.  You'd think they'd seen this kind of thing a million times before!  And worst of all, they treat foreign-sounding people before they get to lily white Seb! "Mwandi mfumo?" a nurse says hesitantly, coming into the waiting room. "Mwend — " A dazed-looking woman rises, one hand to her head, and follows the nurse down a hallway. For Meghan, this is the last straw (although one does have to admire her commitment to journalism for getting the foreign woman to spell her name for Meghan's column while young Seb was dying in the next chair)!  So, she snaps and finally takes a look at Sebaceous's finger (first asking manly Seb if he's feeling really, really brave).  Yup, it's been cut, but not cut off, or anything, and it's stopped bleeding.  So, she tells that uncaring, unfeeling triage nurse that she can just remove the Gurdons from their reservation list, because they will be taking their business elsewhere!  She looks worried in the vague, noncommittal way people do when they are watching an unhappy moment of televised drama. "Are you sure?" "Yes, thank you." And so they leave the hospital, and buy some Band-Aids and antibiotic salve at the drugstore.  Not quite as dramatic an ending to this scene as it could have been.  See, what the nurse should have said was, "Wow, you courageous, resourceful woman, you, looking at your own son's finger.  I now see the error of my ways, and feel overcome with guilt for not taking your valiant son before that dusky person with the gunshot wound to the head.  Will you please, please forgive me and give us a chance to make it up to you?"  And then Meghan could have said, "Never!  You learned too late that children are our most precious resource, and that the heart is a dangerous hunter.  Watch for an unfavorable mention in my latest NRO column, bitch!" But since the nurse didn't really care if Sebaceous and his cut finger got seen by the ER doctor, or got some Band-Aids applied by his mother, that line would have been wasted. Anyway, here are my favorite AWM bits for this week: 1.  The reappearance of Charlotte D. and her son RJ.  You remember RJ from Meghan's article on potty training from a couple of month's back: Charlotte recalls that whenever R.J., now 4 years old, needed to use a public bathroom, she had to cover the toilet seat and any deodorizers, which he called "dings," with tissue paper. I bet that young RJ welcomed this new chance to be immortalized in Meghan's work. 2.  The mention of how eldest daughter Rosacea is following in Meghan's tactful literary footsteps. Molly stays with the adults. Charlotte D., she confides to a piece of paper I happen to see later, "is not beautiful like other people, but she makes you want to look at her again and again." I bet "not beautiful by any actual standard of beauty" Charlotte D. also welcomes this new chance to be immortalized in one of Meghan's columns. 3.  The latest example of Meghan's kids' excellent manners: I find myself babbling to Paris how sorry I am that this happened, and how brave he is, when he interrupts me.  "No, Mummy, I'm sorry," he says, "For interrupting everyone's day." 4.  The latest example of Meghan's conservative, non-PC, I-hate-all-competent-mothers parenting style. Inside the backpack, among stuffed animals and three-subject notebooks, there's a flash of red-and silver: The Swiss Army knife I bought as a Father's Day gift when Paris was just a baby. In the time it takes to say, "Oh, very well," a scenario flits past of our seven-year-old being expelled for "bringing a weapon to school," and I make a mental note to sweep his backpack thoroughly come September. What I am not willing to do is ban the thing. In my view, children ought to be able to exercise their inner Tom Sawyer, even at the risk of damage, personal injury, or property-related torts. So, Seb takes the knife to the park, gets into a knife fight with a gang of toddlers, and is wounded.  Anybody could have predicted this one.  But hey, it's the ER nurse who's the jerk, not Meghan. 5.  The sit-com ending, which Tbogg has already described better than I ever could. So, let's recap Meghan's family disasters for the past month: This week: son Seb cuts his finger and is rushed to the ER.  Last week: Meghan loses youngest daughter Tort at Rehobeth Beach, and the police are called. 3 weeks ago: The children see dead things.  They're everywhere.  Rosacea almost gets killed in traffic trying to rescue a hurt dove (or "pigeon", as they're known elsewhere.) 4 weeks ago:  The kids have a simultaneous nervous breakdown when they realize that they can't live at home with Mummy and Daddy forever.   We haven't seen daughter Camembert since. So, things definitely are deteriorating in the Gurdon household.  I hope their social worker intervenes before it's too late. P.S.  Stan J. updates on the wild world of Canada's Worst (or at least, Slackiest) Mother™: I'm afraid I have been letting down the side on the ** Worst Mother competition, but that's mostly because our Canadian entry is living up to her moniker - not only is she a Slacker Mom, she's a Slacker Writer. Oh she turns out a column every Friday alright, but ... booooring! It's too dumb to make fun of. Anyway, as ashamed as I am of the weakness of our contribution to this major inter-country bragging rights face-off, here's an update on what Gail's been up to. 1. She still hasn't taken the time to think up names for her children. 2. The vacuum remains unused. (You know, there are so many pornographic innuendos I could try here...but it's Friday and I'm the slacker e-mailer.) 3. She's still boozing it up and she has the shakes so bad she'll down the stuff even when debris from her lack of interest in cleanliness falls into it. 4. Somebody - maybe the yet to be mentioned slacker Dad, or perhaps one of the Things, maybe even Gail herself - smokes and tosses the butts under the bed. Anyway, see for yourself; here's what the Halifax Chronicle-Herald printed today. And it's a horrifying tale of woman's aversion to vacuum cleaners.  I call it "Earth Vs. the Dust Bunnies."  Here's the conclusion, courtesy of Stan: No, my friends, I'm afraid Nature's right to abhor a vacuum, and perhaps if we followed her ways, we'd be happier and living in a better world, shoulder to shoulder with our dust bunnies. While this week's column does reveals Gail to be a slovenly housekeeper and not that great of a writer, since none of her children were lost or wounded, she openly admits to the boozing instead of trying to pretend that the staggers are due to having a child bleed on her, and she doesn't force a little conservative lesson into her story of boring domestic life, AWM has nothing to fear from her Canadian competition.  But we will be counting on Stan for futher updates. 11:58:23 PM

A Hero for a Whole Generation of Bloggers Catch has a great interview with TBogg.  Tom comes across as a very nice guy and a really, really funny person.  Shows what editing can do.  Just kidding!  Seriously, I wouldn't be where I was today (sitting at a computer on a Saturday afternoon) if Tom hadn't given a naive, struggling new blogger a helping hand.  "You've got spunk, kid," he said.  "I hate spunk."  And the rest is history.  That obscure, boring kind of history that is found in those remaindered books that nobody will buy, even when they're marked down to 4 for $1.  And that's why Tom is both my Most Memorable Character, and my personal savior. So, in conclusion, I think that this interview idea was a great idea, and it turned out very well indeed.  We learned what was meant by that cryptic remark about knowing more about bras than any man should  (it meant that he knows a LOT about bras).  We learned who he would most hate to be trapped in an elevator with (and very astute choices they are).  We learn which are his most popular entries: the ones about America's Most Deady Mom, of course (I loved yesterday's account of how manly, young Sebaceous cut his finger whittlln', and yet the hospital staff not only failed to get him into the ER, STAT!, but they also treated foreigny, dusky people before Meghan's best beloved); but also the ones that reveal personal details.  As a commenter Scaramouche said, "I predict for the next week a slew of personal stories on blogs. "  So, stay tuned tomorrow for my story of how I once exchanged a lingering glance with George Bush senior, and how it changed my life. But first, go read the interview that blows the lid off of the phenomenon whom the blogging community knows as TBogg (his enemies call him The Deadly Snark of Doom).  7:05:22 PM

Ask Dr. Mike Dr. Mike S. Adams, University Professor has a new TownHall column for today; this one is entitled "Queers Under Seige."  In it, Professor Dr. Mike continues his practice of using his column to respond to mail he's allegedly received.  And once again, he uses large chunks from the purported missive, thus requiring him to come up with only 500 original words and still get paid. This time, Dr. Mike is apparently claiming that he got an email from a UNC student named Bryan, who complained to Dr. Mike about being in a class where a gay student said some things that Bryan didn't like.  (I'm not sure how Bryan got the transcript of what the student allegedly read in class, but it's good that he did because it really helped out Dr. Mike, word count-wise.) So, Dr. Mike advises Bryan to file harassment charges against the gay student, start a petition to force the professor to take sensitivity training, demand that heterosexuals and Catholics be given special protection against "gay political fanatics," and write to school donors and send them a copy of the gay student's "Rules of Conduct for Straight People," apparently so they will think these are are UNC rules and will stop giving money to the university.  I hope that "Bryan" takes Dr. Mike's advice, becomes the laughing stock of the campus, and then writes Dr. Mike another letter, calling him a "dumb-ass."  Then Mike will have to buy another firearm. Anyway, it's clear that Dr. Mike clearly relishes the task of providing helpful, practical advice to young people and dumb-asses, and I  think he should give up the criminology professor gig to focus on his advice columnist role.  I see it going something like this. Dear Sally, I’m sorry to hear about your boyfriend's inability to commit.   It's pretty obvious that (a)  he's gay; (b) he's already married, and has been stringing you on all this time; or (c) you are a loser, and no man will ever want to marry you.  In your letter, you said: So this year, the Rutgers researchers decided to launch a full-scale national survey of single heterosexual men, ages 25-34. These men represent almost 10 million of the nation’s most eligible bachelors. The report was just released last month.  Among those men, 53% said they were not interested in getting married anytime soon -- the marriage delayers. That figure alone is cause for concern.  But this is the statistic that every American who wants to strengthen and protect marriage should be worried about: 22% of the men said they had absolutely no interest in finding their Truly Beloved. The report described these guys as “hardcore marriage avoiders.”  When almost one-quarter of single men in their prime courting years -- that’s two million potential husbands -- declare a Marriage Strike, we’re facing an unprecedented social crisis.  But I believe you were probably quoting somebody else. If I were in your shoes, I would handle the situation by taking the following steps: 1.  Make fun of your boyfriend in your syndicated column every week. 2.  Continue whining about how awful he is to anyone who will listen. 3.  File a "hate crime" complaint against him, just to demonstrate how stupid those laws are. 4.  Give him an ultimatum: tell him that he has until the end of the month to marry you or you're falsely charging him with rape, like you dames always do. 5.  Buy a gun each time you propose to him and he says no. I hope this helps. --Dr. Mike S. Adams, Professor   Dear Bill, I share your anger over the fact that that Al Franken got away with claiming that you actually lived in Westbury Township, when you have a deed that says "Levittown." Here's what you said in a recent column about ingrates: It's not only Canadians and the French who are misguided about the USA; there's also a fifth column in America itself. The "anarchists" are hoping to disrupt the Republican convention in New York City. Police believe they will use violent means to do so.   And the verbal violence on display daily by partisan fanatics is growing more despicable by the moment. Michael Moore and his acolytes hide behind the "dissent" label, but they are not dissenters, they're destroyers. So, here's what I would do if I were you: 1.  Sue Franken for libel.  You can't lose! 2.  Sue your mother for libel. 3.  Sue any maps or public records that say that the area you resided in was known as Westbury Township. 4.   Go to England and sue Franken for libel there too.  (I know you talked about this on your TV show, but your British guest didn't seem too enthusiastic about the idea, so I want to give you some support in this undertaking.) 5.  Go to downtown L.A. and diss some popular rappers, and joke about how young black kids are known for their thieving ways. 6.  If anybody gives you a bad time, complain that your feelings as a white man are not being respected, and say that you too want the right to abortion on demand. Good luck.  Let me know how it goes. -- Dr. Mike   Dear Dick, I too was outraged at that NY Times piece which claimed that there are rumors about you being dropped from Bush's ticket.  Let me now quote from that article which you quoted to me in your letter, so you'll remember what we're talking about: It may be inside the Beltway, but in recent days the Washington summer clamor about dropping Mr. Cheney has so greatly intensified that Mr. Cheney himself was forced to address it on Wednesday. Asked in a C-Span interview if he could envision any circumstances under which he would step aside, Mr. Cheney replied: "Well, no, I can't. If I thought that were appropriate, I certainly would." In the interview, to be broadcast Sunday, Mr. Cheney also said that Mr. Bush "has made very clear he doesn't want to break up the team," but that chatter of his stepping down was to be expected. "I suppose right now, because we're in the run-up to the convention, people don't have much to talk about so you get speculation on that," he said. "It's normal. When we get to the convention, I think that'll put an end to that." Who would replace Mr. Cheney has nonetheless became a favorite Washington guessing game, with the names of Secretary of State Colin L. Powell and Senator John McCain of Arizona whispered about the most. Here are some steps which you should follow: 1.  Sue the NY Times for sexual harassment. 2.  Demand that you be given the children's rate at the movie theater.  If the cashier refuses, use it as an example of how unfair this PC crap is the next time you speak at a fund raiser. 3.  Tell people that liberals are calling for the White House be renamed "The House of Many Colors." Claim this was the real reason for the invasion of Iraq. 4.  Fire your paperboy, first letting him know that you're on to his homosexual, feminist agenda. 5.  Tell McCain and Powell to go f--- themselves for trying to steal your job. 6.  Tell George Bush to go f--- himself for reading those polls that note your unpopularity with the American public. 7.  Go duck hunting with all the members of the Supreme Court.  Shoot all the liberal ones.  (Let me know if you want to borrow a gun.) Dick, I hope I have been of service.  Write back if you have any other questions or quandaries. Your friend, --Dr. Mike Adams, Ph.D. [Although Mike doesn't do it, here are links to the stuff I quoted from: Bill O'Reilly, Carey Roberts,  NY Times.] 5:10:30 AM