Let Me Clarify a Few Things...

This morning I am merely a voyeur watching markets with animalistic perversion and a material witness to all you dicksuckers talking shit over the Internets.  I await delivery of cocaine or Armafuckingeddon upon Jackson's Hole, hedged with retardo longs in AAPL, a half position of V and VHC longs and a few fucktarded Canadian energy shares paying me a pikerish monthly dividend.

So to kill some time, I'd like to clarify a few things this morning regarding my last post.  Upon celebrating our 14th wedding anniversary yesterday with the usual pomp and circumcision, my wife pointed out to me my 'math' was a tad "skewed" and we wouldn't want any of you fuckers reading my posts to think my imagination has run amok into the regions of the far-fetched or anything. So I post the following as an addendum:

$7 for a new outfit from the Old Navy for the
1 kid that fell into the West Edmonton Mall water fountain.
32 times, my youngest has asked for a snack in the last hour and
30 minutes since he finished his last meal and left half of it on his plate
1 pound of bacon is the recommended dosage required for full healing effect.
18 different Costcos we visited during our last
2 week road trip vacation
83 times I threatened to stop the van and they were gonna walk home if they don't shut the fuck up back there between Spokane and the California border....
5 more days until the rugrats go back to school!!

Now there were a few questions and comments I received yesterday as most readers are probably wondering, like how the fuck did they flip an entire shopping cart? Ambulances and child services?

Not that I have to justisfy to any of you fuckfaces about our "creative parenting" methods, but I just wanted to clarify a few things before we get another surprise visit from child services. 

Firstly I'd like to say, fuck you.  I'll have you know we're not like you assholes talking shit online and posting drivel on Facebook, looking for pity 'Likes' from all your peers; shit such as, how much you'll be "missing the company of your darling kids when they go back to school". You see, we happen to know Mr. XBOX is their real parents and bribing your kid with a shopping spree at Justice or A&F is the usual form of discipline in your household.  How dare you judge us?




Creativity run amok...


I, like any parent, want my kids to run wild and their creativity to flow freely for as long as they can,  protecting them from the harsh reality that they will eventually face when they grow older... Who doesn't?

I'd love to tell you my kids are the sweetest of angels with icing and unicorns on top, but they're not. My kids, I swear on your two eyes, they have been spawned from the very loins of Beelzebub, and are whacked out of their fucking minds, head smash against the wall psychopathic lunatical coke-addled baby monkeys jacked on a consistent diet of sugar and Kraft dinner with hot dog weiners. I’m seriously tempted to have built-in marijuana-laced ritalin IV machines installed in each of their bedrooms, but I am told by some 'experts' this is common and actually healthy among families that have 3 boys. I for one would like to see their studies first hand;  when you are told by the kid’s playschool teacher that he is learning great new words such as “confiscate”, it has got me wondering…




I have to admit my ideas on parenting and the kind of parents, we want to be is a far cry from what I used to think before we had kids. In the beginning, we wanted to do everything perfectly for our child; now with 3 boys, things will tend to get a wee bit hectic in our home-- it's all about getting done what keeps us out of jail... you know,  shit like feeding them, paying for heating bills, not hurting them, an so on...

Don't get me wrong or anything, I happen to like my kids, so along with those above mentioned basic necessities, we tend to throw in a few extra perks such as love, interest, and doing shit with them once in a while...

As far as flipping the shopping cart upside-down, believe me when I tell you this, my son at that age didn't 'think' he was Spiderman, he 'knew' he was Spiderman.  And bad things tend to happen when your kid is indeed Spiderman bored out of his fucking mind, sitting in the child seat of a shopping cart while you just so happen to turn away for a split second to put items from your cart onto the conveyor belt... no harm done. The entire cart flipped over top of him and he ended up in the basket part, penned up like a stuck pig...




Good Morning and trade 'em well...