Your “Gifted” Child is Probably Just Showing Early Signs of Being Gay

You can quit getting all excited and telling everyone about his or her reading comprehension level, or their amazing singing voice. Your kid isn’t 20 years away from a Nobel Prize in Literature or the next Frank Sinatra, I promise you. What they are probably 20 years away from is drinking 7 glasses of wine at Thanksgiving dinner so they can work up the courage to tell their overbearing, hovering asshat parents that they are gay. Then dad can yell at mom that “This is why I said I didn’t want him going to that liberal arts college, they turn kids gay!” and mom responds in typical denial “He’s just being theatrical, he’s always been a showman!”. Meanwhile Grandpa takes another long pull on his scotch and scotch and says to no one in particular “I didn’t liberate the fuckin Kuwaitis for this bullshit” as the sister who has always known the truth in her heart hugs him and says “Just move in with me in Manhattan, you’ll fit in there”.

That is really fantastic that little Billy is reading at a 3rd grade level, in the 1st grade. Guess what? Outside of you, and maybe your parents, no one gives a flying fuck. He’s in the 99th percentile for math?!?! So was I, and I went on to fucking fail Calculus. Just because Suzy rakes a bow across a violin and makes music that sounds like an elephant being put down with a razor blade does not make her the next Yo-Yo Ma. And you know what, that’s okay. So put your copy of Outliers down and chill the fuck out. Everyone, me included, would be much more impressed if you told us your kid has fun playing wiffle ball in the back yard with neighborhood kids, or that you found a Penthouse next to a bottle of lotion and box of Kleenex under their bed. You running your fucking mouth to anyone unlucky enough to have to listen isn’t going to get your kid into Juilliard or earn them a Rhodes Scholarship to Oxford. But do you know what it is going to do? Its going to make all of your friends and family cringe, and I mean like they just saw a femur bone break through someone’s thigh muscle fucking cringe, every time you open your goddamned mouth and start a story with “Well Michael’s teacher told me last week…..” or “I walked into the den and Michael was reading…..”. Its going to cause your kid to start believing the hype you cram up his or her ass 24/7 and they will believe that they are truly better than their peers. They’ll behave accordingly and pretty soon everyone will hate them. Then you’ll end up with a social misfit who will be double-fucked once everyone else catches up to their reading level or you figure out that to be a true piano virtuoso you need freakishly long fingers.
During the Bataan Death March to greatness you force them on they are going to miss out on a lot of life. Parties, getting laid, farts to the face, beating up dorks like them, movies, hand jobs, sports, recreational drug use, bribing drunks to buy them beer at 7/11, etc. All to feed the illusion that mommy and daddy’s DNA hit the genetic lottery. When Einstein was a young child he invented his own language. Then he invented his own religion. After that he wrote hymns in the language he invented. And then he conducted masses in his own religion in the language he invented. So call me when your little prodigy reenacts the Battle of Gettysburg with armies that he whittled out of his own feces, and until then just please shut the fuck up.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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