Books from my kids' room: Why Do You Love Me?
Welcome to another installment of Books from my kids' room. It's been awhile since we've done this. The last time was way back when, with a talkin' about The Monster at the End of this Book. So, before the Juice goes on another classic tangent, let's move along.
The Juice knows I shouldn’t be touchin’ this one with a 5 ft pole. With the ultra-conservative mode we’ve got goin’ on in this country, I’m sure I’m askin’ for a shit load of trouble, but I can’t leave well enuf alone. So up for review is Dr. Laura Schlessinger’s (what a mouthful, the name that is. Not the woman. Believe you me, the Juice won’t be doin’ a The Glory of…Dr Laura anytime soon) book Why Do You Love Me? That’s a very good question. One in which we’ll examine in detail in a moment.
A few years ago the missus got on a real religious kick. There were “moratoriums” on the Simpsons, pornography and cussin’ (none of which I bought into, by the by. The Juice is a many thing. The one thing he ain’t is a conformist. Or a religionist. You try tellin’ the Juice he can’t do somethin’, he’s just gonna go the opposite way. The influx of porno in that dark time period was truly staggerin’). The missus also started buyin’ into the whole Dr. Laura thing. Listenin’ to her talk show. Buyin' her junk she was peddlin’. One of which included this book.
And what a truly entertain’ book it is. If you like your poison laced with sugar. Uggghhh…what an insidious fucking tale. Let’s get something straight from the get go. No one, I repeat, no one feels the way about their kids as this book try to sugar coat it. No fuck way. I know some of you try to sell it to your kids that way, but you’re just foolin’ yourself and them. You can't wait til they turn 18 and you can kick them the fuck out of your house.
So, the story’s about a lil fuck name Sammy. Sammy wants to know why his mommy loves him. The mom could be honest and say she doesn’t so much “love” him, but tolerate his existence. And that if his worthless father didn’t knock her up, she’d be gettin’ fucked by millionaires on the Riveria. But really, the mom's just foolin’ herself. Cause the Juice is willin’ to wager dollars to donuts that she never had shot one with anyone but some douche bag who graduated community college who hates his own existence cause he wastes his life workin’ for the Man 8 hours a day, every day.
But, I digress…
Lil Sammy asks his mom whether she loves him because he’s good at karate, or cause he won a race, or because he picked up his toys.
His mom tells him that’s not why she loves him. And the Juice would have to partially agree. If the Juice has said it once, the Juice has said it a million times. Kids are stupid. Honestly. You’re thinkin’ it, the Juice is just sayin’ it. We, as parents, don’t give shit one about karate or winnin’ a race. Oh, that shit’s all fine and good when you’re a stupid kid, but when you’re slavin’ away for the Man too many days of the week, the last thing you’re thinkin’ about is whether Junior won a fucking race. As for the pickin’ up of the toys, hell that would be a start! God forbid a kid pick up his toys once in awhile. It’d probably kill ‘em.
Sammy then goes on to ask his mother other questions about why she loves him. This time, the kid goes the guilt route. He asks her if she loves him cause he does a few nice things. Like helpin’ his lil brother up after he fell. Or offerin’ his bike to his mother. Nice. Real, nice. If the kid wanted to be helpful, he could start off pickin’ up his toys once in awhile. The Juice is sayin’ that’s only a start. How about listenin’ when I tell ya to do somethin’. Would that kill ya? Probably. Why else would they not listen to ya? If listenin’ would kill you, would you listen? Would you? Of course not. There is no other reasonable explanation for kid’s insanity.
The mom tries to sell the son that bein’ helpful and kind is a wonderful thing. Yea, yea, yea. Everytime the Juice reads that page, I feel like I could go into diabetic shock. There should be some sort of warnin’ when you come to a page like that. Maybe an insulin tablet or somethin’ attached to the page. Fuck! It’s such horse shit. The Juice is gonna go spit.
Then Sammy questions his mom why she loves him when he’s bad. Like when he yells or when he crayons on the wall. Yea, that’s a great question. The real question should be: “Mommy, why don’t you beat the crap out of me when I crayon on the wall? Cause it sure as shit looks like you want to.”
The book goes on for a few more pages with more saccharine laced sugar. The Juice could puke, really. So, at this point, the Juice is gonna stop. I don’t really need to see the paramedics tonight.
Fortunately for the Juice, the kids never really bought into this book. I’ve only had to suffer through it a few times. What it comes down to is that books like this belong in a certain places. Please tell the Juice you picked up the irony of that link. Please?!?!?
The Juice knows I shouldn’t be touchin’ this one with a 5 ft pole. With the ultra-conservative mode we’ve got goin’ on in this country, I’m sure I’m askin’ for a shit load of trouble, but I can’t leave well enuf alone. So up for review is Dr. Laura Schlessinger’s (what a mouthful, the name that is. Not the woman. Believe you me, the Juice won’t be doin’ a The Glory of…Dr Laura anytime soon) book Why Do You Love Me? That’s a very good question. One in which we’ll examine in detail in a moment.
A few years ago the missus got on a real religious kick. There were “moratoriums” on the Simpsons, pornography and cussin’ (none of which I bought into, by the by. The Juice is a many thing. The one thing he ain’t is a conformist. Or a religionist. You try tellin’ the Juice he can’t do somethin’, he’s just gonna go the opposite way. The influx of porno in that dark time period was truly staggerin’). The missus also started buyin’ into the whole Dr. Laura thing. Listenin’ to her talk show. Buyin' her junk she was peddlin’. One of which included this book.
And what a truly entertain’ book it is. If you like your poison laced with sugar. Uggghhh…what an insidious fucking tale. Let’s get something straight from the get go. No one, I repeat, no one feels the way about their kids as this book try to sugar coat it. No fuck way. I know some of you try to sell it to your kids that way, but you’re just foolin’ yourself and them. You can't wait til they turn 18 and you can kick them the fuck out of your house.
So, the story’s about a lil fuck name Sammy. Sammy wants to know why his mommy loves him. The mom could be honest and say she doesn’t so much “love” him, but tolerate his existence. And that if his worthless father didn’t knock her up, she’d be gettin’ fucked by millionaires on the Riveria. But really, the mom's just foolin’ herself. Cause the Juice is willin’ to wager dollars to donuts that she never had shot one with anyone but some douche bag who graduated community college who hates his own existence cause he wastes his life workin’ for the Man 8 hours a day, every day.
But, I digress…
Lil Sammy asks his mom whether she loves him because he’s good at karate, or cause he won a race, or because he picked up his toys.
His mom tells him that’s not why she loves him. And the Juice would have to partially agree. If the Juice has said it once, the Juice has said it a million times. Kids are stupid. Honestly. You’re thinkin’ it, the Juice is just sayin’ it. We, as parents, don’t give shit one about karate or winnin’ a race. Oh, that shit’s all fine and good when you’re a stupid kid, but when you’re slavin’ away for the Man too many days of the week, the last thing you’re thinkin’ about is whether Junior won a fucking race. As for the pickin’ up of the toys, hell that would be a start! God forbid a kid pick up his toys once in awhile. It’d probably kill ‘em.
Sammy then goes on to ask his mother other questions about why she loves him. This time, the kid goes the guilt route. He asks her if she loves him cause he does a few nice things. Like helpin’ his lil brother up after he fell. Or offerin’ his bike to his mother. Nice. Real, nice. If the kid wanted to be helpful, he could start off pickin’ up his toys once in awhile. The Juice is sayin’ that’s only a start. How about listenin’ when I tell ya to do somethin’. Would that kill ya? Probably. Why else would they not listen to ya? If listenin’ would kill you, would you listen? Would you? Of course not. There is no other reasonable explanation for kid’s insanity.
The mom tries to sell the son that bein’ helpful and kind is a wonderful thing. Yea, yea, yea. Everytime the Juice reads that page, I feel like I could go into diabetic shock. There should be some sort of warnin’ when you come to a page like that. Maybe an insulin tablet or somethin’ attached to the page. Fuck! It’s such horse shit. The Juice is gonna go spit.
Then Sammy questions his mom why she loves him when he’s bad. Like when he yells or when he crayons on the wall. Yea, that’s a great question. The real question should be: “Mommy, why don’t you beat the crap out of me when I crayon on the wall? Cause it sure as shit looks like you want to.”
The book goes on for a few more pages with more saccharine laced sugar. The Juice could puke, really. So, at this point, the Juice is gonna stop. I don’t really need to see the paramedics tonight.
Fortunately for the Juice, the kids never really bought into this book. I’ve only had to suffer through it a few times. What it comes down to is that books like this belong in a certain places. Please tell the Juice you picked up the irony of that link. Please?!?!?
posted by the Juice at 11:29 PM
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