The Bronx Zoo. These poor animals just want to go extinct!

The Bronx Zoo. An iconic landmark. A place to see all the animals of the world subjected to the air pollution of New York City. A place where the wildlife has the opportunity to enjoy the refreshing & thirst quenching water of the East River.

I would like to take this moment to rename this staple in our community “The Bronx Narcolepsy Zoo!” I swear to Christ every animal was sound asleep from the infamous lions to the house rat. Even the notorious gazelle who hops 87 mph was passed out on a fake plastic scenery rock. I wasn’t sure how to react. My children asked if the animals have all died and I responded “I think so.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love animals. I love nature. I have no problem paying my way for this once in a lifetime experience. But when the tigers are suffering from emphysema and the alligators have a severe case of gout, I’m a bit concerned.

The problem is this. The most exciting moment of the whole day was watching a rabid ordinary chipmunk jump on my boys leg as we all tried to determined if he was Alvin, Theodore or Simon. Believe it or not, these little rodents started singing Frankie Valli tunes for loose change! People started to clap as I started to vomit. I mean come on. There’s a 300 pound lion snoring 100 yards away from us. A spotted hyena was coma toast and all we cared about was a singing wild chipmunk. God for bid a duck passed by. The only wildlife awake during this excursion was the non captive bastards we see everyday. Squirrels and birds were plentiful and awake. Elephants and Zebras were passed out like NYC crackheads on New Years Eve. Even the Zoo parking attendant was sound asleep.

The only moment I felt any life in the establishment was when we entered the Land of Gorillas. Let me tell you something. This shit was life altering. These silver back bastards are a 1/2 of chromosome away from being human and if anybody thinks God created us, go spend 4 minutes in a captive Gorilla enclosure at the zoo. Somehow, someway, we humans received that one extra intelligent link. That is the difference maker. Watching these animals interact within their environment along with their mannerisms was a true sight to see. I was so intrigued. Baffled. Confused. Mind boggled. And then it happened. A true sign of human behavior. A similarity that had me second guessing who was the more intelligent species.

A mother Silverback ape. Sitting propped up carelessly against a rock as her four children played irresponsibly and she didn’t give a shit. A minute into the encounter the mama ape pounded her belly and regurgitated in her mouth. She then ate her throw up proudly. Scratched her breast. Licked her palm of all nipple juice. Picked her nose. Ate it. Moved on. Yes it’s disgusting but don’t tell me none of you mothers out there have never done that? Yeah I know. I’m sure it was done privately but this poor ape lives in the Bronx Zoo! Can’t hide that shit. She was open and honest and didn’t give a fuck! I respected that. Except when she stuck her finger in her asshole and licked it. I didn’t respect that. At all. That was disgusting.

Most animals at the Zoo accepted their fate. The lions said “fuck it.” Let our balls hang out in NY and get fed hunks of beef from Arthur Ave? Sign me up. The sea lions swam gracefully through the pool with no threats of great white sharks. In all fairness they risk death by pollution but they will take that chance. It was those Mongolian horses that had a bone to pick with their captive environment. They are basically extinct but these last 7 unlucky beautiful creatures got stuck in the Bronx. All they want to do is smoke Chinese cigarettes, play Pai Gow and take a Tai Kwon Doe class. But no. They run around the Bronx like A Chinese Sea Biscuit.

We closed the day out on a nice peaceful ride on the Monorail. Well
not so peaceful. The road rage on the rides line was aggressive. The fella Vinny behind us began to scream “move up the line you stupid motherf:;()$:(“…Let’s go. My family was nervous but I told them to relax. I will eventually make a fool out of him.

Then there was the Monorail conductor. The pilot. The captain. The leader. I’ll tell you this. You only get this job if you are selected by Earth. You are a chosen one. You need to lose your hair by the age of four and know everything about everything there is to know about cow dung. They are nice people until you break a rule and stand up. Then they yell at you like Mommy Dearest at a wire hanger convention. It’s bad.

Obey the rules.



Solar Eclipse! Glad that shit’s over!

Ok. The Solar Eclipse has come and went. Thank God this shit only happens every 99 years or so.

If I was able to find a positive in all of this, it was the simple fact this event took our attention away from all the other surrounding bullshit in world today. It was a break from reality I presume.

In all fairness, if I listened or read about one more intelligent human being (allegedly) ask about eye damage caused by gazing at the sun for 30 seconds, I was going to weed wack my ear drums and dip my eyeballs in Mercury. What????? I’d rather discuss Nazis & Confederate statue removal than have to explain to our human race the sun is not your friend. You can’t stare at it like a hairy naked fat woman eating a chocolate covered slinky cruising down the rusty escalator at the local mall. Focus people.

Yes it was interesting. Yes we should pay attention. Yes we should cherish this opportunity to view such beauty. No we should never be allowed to reproduce again. After what I witnessed today, our race is about as intelligent as a pack of expired fun dip. Come on people.

Another concern I have is this. How will all of our necks feel in the morning? Let’s face it, we never really look up. Unless we are at a fireworks display, riding a camel or simply giving Andre the Giant a hum dinger,  our heads are mostly in a level position throughout the day. A lot of stiff necks tomorrow would be my educated guess.

People scrambled to protect their corneas. Things got so desperate we emptied our boxes of 3 year old Corn Flakes to create a safe viewing device. Many looked up and did some kind of yoga shit with their fingers to create a little window between their crusty ass knuckles and bitten dirty fingernails. Grandmothers walked around with welding helmets and Camel cigarettes dangling from their mouth to catch a glimpse. I personally believe the asshole dressed like an alien on CNN that banged out of worked for this 20 second event should be thrown into the sun, but that is none of my business. The overall scene was truly amazing.

In the end it was a disappointment. At least for us in New York. We New Yorkers expected total darkness for an hour. Fireballs to shoot from the sky. Tornados. The first day of the school year to be delayed a month. We wanted chaos. All we got was a weather cloud, three old ladies smoking Virginia Slims and a community filled of Stevie Wonder wannabes. Terrible.

The Eclipse brought us all closer for a minute. We put our differences aside for a day. We came together as a nation. We were determined to figure out where to get “Solar Glasses” and just how long we could stare directly at the sun before our eyelids caught fire. It was a true bonding experience amongst mankind.

Until the next Eclipse!!!!!




My last three lovers quarrels and Lionel Richie is one of them!

Had a fight with the wife. Actually had a few discrepancies. She was mad I didn’t take her to the Lionel Richie concert tonight at MSG that she just heard about 6 hours ago. Like I have a Lionel Richie concert tracker App installed on my phone. As if I wake up everyday wondering where Lionel Richie will be serenading us next. WTF! Last I remember, Lionel was molesting some blind chic on MTV.

Below is the last three lovers quarrels I have participated in. On a positive note, if this is what couples always fought about, we would all be ok.

# 1 Lionel Richie Fight:

A) I thought Lionel Richie was dead.

B) I’m not gonna try and scalp last minute “Lionel Richie” tickets. God for bid I didn’t succeed. I would be damaged for life.

C) What would I wear to a Lionel Richie concert? I donated all my “turtle necks” years ago. How do I react as an audience member when “Dancing on the Ceiling” comes on? Suicide would be my first option. What does one do? Hopefully that song would never be performed and I could simply just bump and grind my wife to “Easy like Sunday morning”. Who the hell knows!

D) Are the Commodores gonna be there? If so I will consider this.

E) “Hello” A classic. Only song I would actually want to hear.

F) Asked my wife to look up another Lionel Richie concert coming to town in the near future. She replied “Really, he will never play again”

G) Duh! My point exactly!

My wife sat pouting on a chair all night as I asked “Alexa” to play all the greatest hits of Mr Richie.

#2 Where’s my Pizza?

I slaved in the kitchen all day yesterday to make everybody’s favorite dish, eggplant parmesan. My wife went to work today. I figured she would bring a slab of eggplant to satisfy her hunger. We went to a friends house. I ordered some Dominos pizza for the children. My boys and their friends wolfed down every slice like Hannibal Lecter at a liver transplant convention. It was truly a sight to see.

My wife walks in demanding a slice of Dominos pizza as if she’s “Vlad the Impaler.” She drilled me for a fucking hour about how I didn’t have the respect, honor and audacity to save her a slice. “It’s $5.99 you hump!!! I’ll order you a fucking pie if you want!” I defensively mumbled under my scared shitless breath. She said “forget it asshole.” I said “Ok.” So that was that. Pizza would have gave her the shits anyway.

#3 I’m tired! Let’s go!

This woman could fall asleep at a coffee bean factory. She passed out at our wedding during the Venetian hour. I was trying to drink another beer and buy some time as my wife was drooling on our friends cashmere couch. She made it clear. She was ready to go. So I played a Lionel Ritchie song to close out the night and shoved a pacifier in her mouth and carried her out to the car. When she gets tired, watch out. That “resting bitch face syndrome” turns into the “Walking Dead” version of “Bert and Ernie.” Its bad. I complied.

We all have our fights. Most of the time in our relationships, it’s petty shit. Lionel Richie and Dominos??? Hahaha. When she starts breaking my balls about lack of performance in the sack and paying the bills, then I’ll start to sweat a bit. Until then, I will keep on “Dancing on the Ceiling.”

Until the next quarrel!





Writers block. The struggle is real!

Writers block. The struggle is real. Not sure what that actually is but I think I have it. I may just be constipated but I seem to be a bit foggy lately.

Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not a writer. I have never read a book. I misspelled my name on my high school SAT’s. If it wasn’t for google and spell check I would be nothing more than a New York City crackhead romance novelist. I am NOT a writer. But I like to write!

Regardless, I feel a sense of blockage. I’m trying to be creative and muster up a story in my traditional fashion and all I keep coming up with is a stupid story about my wife’s anus. It’s boring. I’m 29 seconds away from shoving an
M-80 between her eyebrows in order to create some new material. I’m committed. I’ll do whatever it takes.

When I started this blog, I never really thought it through. I figured I would jot down a few stories and you would all forget about me. My wife would eventually cut off my wiener and shove it down my throat. We would all live happily ever after.

Well, my wiener is still in tact. For now. I’m addicted to writing this blog and I just can’t find anymore stories about my wife’s butthole so I’m at a crossroad.

I guess now I will start to discuss my mother in laws butthole. Probably not a good idea. That’s a Puerto Rican anus. A Spanish anus is serious. They need to be featured in “The Museum of Natural Spanish Anuses”. These fuckers are fluent in 7 languages. Give them a kidney bean and their asshole craps out Justin Beiber along with the club version of Despacito!  Better judgement is to stay away. That shit talks back. Rapidly. Yaya will kick my ass but I’m desperate. She would not hesitate for a minute to cut me up with a taco supreme while listening to Tito Puente! I’m in trouble for this one!

I have a big mouth. My brain is filled with chaos. That being said, I’m jammed up. I am sorry. Never thought I would experience this but I have. No worries. I will take a trip to Walmart and troll Facebook. The “material well” will be filled once again.

The reality is this. Life around my house has been boring the past week or so. There hasn’t been any inspirational moments. The family is catching on to me. My wife installed a silencer on her ass and my kids avoid confrontation with me at all costs. So I’m fucked. I need to create atmosphere. I need motivation. I need drama.

I will start by taking a crap on my wife’s frontal lobe while she is asleep. Hopefully this action will stir up the pot a bit. I will then proceed to light my children’s cell phones on fire during the Kids Choice Awards. I will pour a bottle of A1 steak sauce into my eyeball. If I can’t get a rise out of these people after this I’m moving to North Korea.

I’m taking up gymnastics!

I’ll keep you all posted!

This is not my last post 😜

Critical survival tips for a healthy relationship & marriage!

To all my married guys and gals. I’m not Dr Phil although our hair styles are very similar. Please stop going to therapy. Stop attending marriage counseling and taking advice from a professsional certified divorcee! Just please stop that. This is my free consultation to you. It’s simple and true and I rarely tell the truth so pay attention.

To be completely honest though, I needed Air Supply Pandora Radio to get through this post. That shit is inspirational.

1) If your significant other says they are going out for a gallon of milk and you believe they are en route to bang the bus boy / girl at Denny’s, it’s not gonna work. No trust, no relationship. I’ll just get that one out of the way now. It’s the key component to any healthy relationship. Guys, stop reading this post right now if you believe your child could be fathered by the waiter from Dennys! Ladies, if you honestly think your husband is capable of bedding a 22 year old woman at this point in his life, you are giving him way to much credit. He can’t last 3 minutes with you. A 22 year old would make his pee pee disintegrate.

2) If one of you thinks another person is attractive (celebrity or normal human) and you take that personal, run. It’s normal. Who gives a shit. There are more attractive people than you. That’s a fact! Embrace, move on! My wife still thinks Flavor Flav is hot. How do you think that makes me feel? I respect her feelings.

3) If you don’t look at your partner and think they are just as beautiful as the day you met, it’s not gonna work. As a matter of fact, your partner should become more attractive to you each and every day. Personally, my wife gets prettier each day. I still get a chubby when she grazes by me with a mouth full of tortilla chips as her boobs drag along the hallway floor. Mother of my children. Puts up with my shit. This chick is a freakin super model in my eyes.

4) If you are only having sex on your birthday or when your partner is 6 seconds from an accidental overdose, they are banging somebody else. Period. You must do it twice per week, no exceptions. It’s important! I don’t want to hear about you being tired. We are all tired. Pull your panties down. It only takes most of us a minute or two. However, make sure you have that crazy kind of love making from time to time. You know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, get out of your relationship. Now.

5) R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Do I really have to get into this? I hope not. If I have to explain to any of you how to respect your life partner, you not only will fail in the relationship, you will fail in life. Respect everybody and all life. Most importantly the person you chose to spend the rest of your life with. For most of us, the parent of your children. That bond alone demands a lifetime of commitment and respect.

6) I love you. The three most important words that are the building blocks of any relationship. Hard to say at first. I get it. Once you feel it, you must say it. Then continue to say it each and everyday. It makes us all feel important. It’s essential.

There are so many other factors that contribute to a healthy, lasting relationship. To me it’s simple. I love my wife with all my heart. My kids are my world. I respect and cherish what I have. I count my blessings each day.

Stop going to therapy. If you can’t follow these simple guidelines, the relationship you are in is not right for you!

Life can be aggravating at times thanks to humans!

In life there are certain daily events and situations that can be quite irritating. Some more than others. Below are some examples for me personally. I’m sure most of you can relate to some of them.

Gum Cackling

Very annoying. It’s even worse when your 78 year old sun weathered waitress named Flo supporting seven grandchildren does it. I understand she works “hard for her money” but stop blowing bubbles and snapping your piece of bazooka in my face as you take my food order. And then proceed to do it again when you drop the check off and say “Thanks doll” in your best smokers cough accent. Stop cackling. Unless you’re Dolly Parton it doesn’t work.

Use of Public Bathrooms

It’s never our first choice but sometimes we need to go. You spend 20 minutes cleaning up what appears to be a sextuplet natural childbirth on the toilet seat and surrounding walls. You finally sit down and get ready to make a deposit and some person sits right next to you. You feel a bit embarrassed and try to be considerate and release your poop quietly and this fat fuck blows a rhinoceros out of their ass. Did you even clean the toilet seat first you animal?

Counter Help

I respect anybody that gets up and goes to work. You should take employment seriously and always do your best. If you happen to be my counter help and I place an order with you, either remember it without question or write it down. Don’t look at me and yes me to death like you have the memory of an elephant only to repeat and ask me what my order was again and again and again. If you are not sure of the order, please use the new invention of  pen and paper. Works every time.

Bicycle Riders

For the most part this isn’t that aggravating. It’s not even the actual riding that bothers me. It’s the uniforms. Don’t get me wrong, some of these men are sexy as hell with bulging calf muscles, nice pectorals and a golden bronze tan. I’m on board with that. That’s hot. It’s the 59 year old accountant that hasn’t lifted a weight since high school football double sessions. He hasn’t seen the sun in 17 years and he looks like a rendition of “Teen Wolf”. Yeah stop that. Hide in your closet until Monday morning when it’s time to get dressed and go back to work.

Public Affection

I don’t know about anybody else but I show my affection to my wife in private. I believe that’s how it should be. Why you all feel the need to show your affection in front of 17 Hasidics, a Mexican soccer team, 24 kids with their pants around their ankles and Chinese tourists with selfie sticks is mind altering. Do you think it’s attractive watching you ride down the mall escalator with your Red Robin greasy ass hands shoved down your girls skin tight Jordache jeans with ju ju bees dangling from your lower lip? Do you think getting to sloppy second with your chick wedged up against the Wetzel Pretzel kiosk is sexy? It’s not. If I tried to squeeze my wife’s ass in public she would crack me over the head with a fire hydrant.

Woman taking public phone call

When you are on a line and the phone rings, hit ignore. That’s why the button is there. I can’t stand when that woman (and you know the type I’m talking about) picks up her phone and her best friend Marsha from Florida is on the other line and they start discussing little Howard’s college tuition. Pick that conversation up after you have paid for your groceries lady. We don’t care if your husband Harold won a toaster oven at Walmart.

Public body exposure

This is terrible. All bodies are different. We are who we are and that’s wonderful. You should love yourself. But please don’t flaunt it if you ain’t got it. If your hips are dragging on the floor please don’t wear a g-string. If you use your belly spare tire as a dinner napkin, please cover up. If your boobies resemble eggplants on steroids, wear a bra. Guys, if your back fat roll is connected to the knee cap, please don’t wear a tank top. Thanks people.

Driving Old Cars

Let’s not get it twisted. I am not referring to restored classic muscle cars. I can watch them drive by all day long. I’m speaking of the 56 foot rusted asbestos Megaladon barreling down the road consuming 1 and a 1/2 miles per gallon polluting Earth. Donate that shit to 1-800-Cars for Kids and get with the times. They don’t even fit in parking spots anymore.

Fake Sun Tans

If you wake up on Christmas morning and you look as if you crawled out of a Volcano something is wrong. If you went on vacation the prior week that’s great. If not, please control how tan you get in January. At least during the summer months you tend to blend in a bit better. Seeing your roasted red pepper facade up against a pile of beautiful white snow is disturbing. Either stop the excessive tanning or walk around wrapped in a garbage bag until June. Thanks in advance.

These are only some of life’s aggravating moments. I’m sure you all have many as well. Would love to here about it. Please share!

Summer camp is over. WTF do we do now?

Summer camp is over. Wtf do we do now??? Whether your child attended sleep away, half day or full day camp, we must now try and fill the hours of the day we so happily paid for to have our children raised by others! This is a challenge on all levels.

For my wife and I it was half day camp. 8:30am to 11:30am. No big deal. Actually it was a very big deal. Three hours per day. Fifteen hours per week. A lifetime of silence when you are a parent. An opportunity to get shit done. Camp, you will be missed dearly.

The hardest part about camp was getting the boys up and out of bed to actually get them there. Let’s face it, it’s 110 degrees outside and these kids have no desire to participate in outdoor dodge ball tournaments orchestrated by a couple of puberty challenged teeny boppers earning $2 per hour. Laying in bed Snap Chatting about a friends “Lit” post is much more exciting for them. Kids are forced into these camps against their will. Sorry young ones. Someday you will become parents and understand these harsh, radical decisions.

Three hours seems like a minimal amount of time. A fraction of the day. It’s not. It’s 180 minutes of relaxation. Stress free. A moment to enjoy peace and quiet. A break from the reality of children demanding food, complaints of boredom, sibling rivalries, constipation issues and anything else that comes along with the daily chaos of parenting.

I took full advantage of the three childless hours I so gracefully forked over my hard earned money for. Often I would send my wife early morning text messages as I’m working stating “Hey, kids are at camp, what’s up?” She would reply “No shit asshole. I dropped them off. I’m sleeping. I’m tired. Go back to work.” That usually put a damper on things for a moment but I was determined to get my “Camp Tuitions” money’s worth. I based my expected return of investment on the current “hooker market value” and figured I would need three solid hours of intimacy with my wife throughout the camp session to break even. So I continued to badger her until she surrendered and threw up her exhausted arms in a fury of disgust “Fine, hurry up. You have five minutes and I’m just gonna lay here and sleep. Do what you like.” I buckled myself in and raced home. Kicked the front door open like John Claud Van Dam auditioning for the Rockettes and shouted “I only need two minutes.” It was a win win for all. I will miss these tender moments between my wife and I. A true romantic bonding experience.

We are all faced with the impossible challenge of filling the time with our children for the remaining days of summer. My wife has supplied me with a list of options and suggestions to close out the summer days with our family. They are as follows. Bronx Zoo. Great Adventure. Museum of Natural History. Dinner five nights per week. Broadway shows. Myrtle Beach. Zip Line. Sky Diving. Cooking classes. Family yoga. Snorkeling. Cruise. Disney world. Disney Land. Shopping. What? Might as well include a trip to Italy and a meet and greet with Justin Timberlake while you’re at it.

Ok babe. Let’s start with Disney World and work our way back. Who the hell does she think I am? I’ll do the Bronx Zoo and Snorkel in my moms pool and call it a day.

We all try and do as much for our kids as possible. Create memories. I understand. Kids just don’t get it. Raising a family in today’s world is a huge (Omg I just sounded like Trump. Shoot me.) financial obstacle. We chose to have a family so we must not complain. We manage.

First day of school is right around the corner. Hang in there Moms & Dads. Eight hours of heaven awaits us all!

Parental Guidance. Are parents at war with social media?


Parental Guidance. Are we at war with social media?

Does any other parent out there sometimes feel like they are raising R2D2?

I do. At times I try and get my boys attention and all I see is the two of them posing for the camera phone only to morph themselves into panting dogs. They constantly distort their photographic appearance to make them appear as if they are becoming a chicken pox infected eggplant. Weird! Why is everything “lit”, “100” and that stupid fire emoji? These kids today are regressing. They communicate through hieroglyphics (it honestly took me 17 tries to spell that word correctly.) I browse through my kids social media news feeds and all I see is images. No words. Are they creating a new language? What is going on here? What do we do? I’m so lost. When I see all this I believe I’m playing a game of Pictionary.

Parenting in the world today is no walk in the park. Parents must be sharp.  Adapt. Become chameleon like. We must try to understand technology and it’s rapid progression. We also must try and interject some of our upbringing and beliefs. We need to create a stable platform to raise a decent human being without offending anybody. And by the way. Please stop being offended. Offensiveness is overrated and I’m tired of reading about a woman who read a Betty Crocker cook book and became offended because it didn’t have enough chocolate morsels in the recipe for a brownie. Take your God given right to be offended and shove it up your ass. If shit bothers you, exclude yourself and walk away. Life is way to short to sweat the small crap. I get offended when the old lady at the Supermarket puts 16 items on the conveyor belt on the 15 and under express checkout line but I keep my mouth shut. I move on. But honestly, that’s fucking aggravating! Count your items lady.

I strongly believe raising children in today’s society is the most difficult it has ever been. The current generation of parents have the task of blending the old techniques of how we were raised with the ever so evolving poison of social media and all of life’s technology plagued advancements. The devil on so many levels. It has become the way of life. Can’t change it. Can’t stop it. We must embrace it!

I believe pre-technology / social media parenting was a cut and dry method. If you misbehaved you were placed over a splinter ridden piano bench and absorbed the lash of your fathers fake leather belt. The wrath of your mothers “wooden spoon.” There was no fear of child abuse reports. Kids did not press charges against parents because their cornflakes were soggy. When you made a childish mistake, you paid the price and you never did it again. All parties hugged it out and kissed on Christmas morning.

I believe the future of parenting will be enforced by robotic nannies and google advice columns. (Which I think is a current practice for some parents.) I get it. Raising children is hard. It’s not for everybody. Some find out the hard way.

I never personally judge other parents on how they discipline and raise their children. Neither should anybody else. All families and situations are different. It’s like a snowflake. No two are ever the same. I have my thoughts on what I think is the correct way. That’s what I instill in my boys. If I see a parent in Shoprite beating their child with a frozen pack of Bubba’s Burgers I just sit back and say “That kid must have done something to deserve that.”  I can’t stand when judgemental people whisper under their bad breath, “Look at that woman,  she shouldn’t be a parent.” Or “Get control of your kid.” Shut up. Just shut the hell up. Until you have the pleasure of dealing with these little unappreciative shits on a daily basis, again shut up. Let us parents raise our miserable kids peacefully while you lonely pricks search Starbucks for an Angle Saxon fella named Kyle with frosted bangs and a hoop earring from Spencer’s decked out in a cashmere orange cardigan who will magically sweep you off your judgemental feet!

Bottom line. Mind your business. Unless a child is in obvious physical danger, (excluding a Bubba Burger beating) let the parents do their thing and move along.  Nature will take its course.

When children are born they don’t come with a set of instructions. There is no App. We learn as we go. Trial and error.

Today we face a greater enemy. Social media. A road block in parenting!

We attempt to raise the next generation to the best of our ability and deal with the influential, mind warping, socially pressured world of social media that has completely consumed our children and way of life. It has managed to take over most of the older generation as well. I think that’s fine as our upbringing is done. We are who we are. Social media shouldn’t determine “Us.” Well for some it just might. Sucks for you I guess.

Social media has the power to influence our youth. Trigger suicide in some heartbreaking situations. It’s powerful and it’s real. It becomes a challenge within parental guidance and direction we as parents work so hard to achieve for our young ones.

I guess in the end we can only hope and pray our children and future generations will prosper & flourish from the fruits of our labor.

Do your best parents. Buckle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride. It’s not getting any easier.

Teach your children love, respect and to always be humble and kind like the great Tim McGraw says. Hopefully that will guide us all through this shit show called life.

Remember, our children are a reflection of their parents. What they do and how they treat others is a direct line to how they are raised and what they are taught. Who they will become.

Teach them well. Teach them right. “I believe the children are the future, let them lead the way”

-Whitney Houston



Childbirth!! Thank God I’m not a woman!

Child birth. Fascinating. The gift of life. The most beautiful experience on Earth.

Yet there are so many different forms and deliveries of these little miracles throughout the years. So much time. So many changes. So much we just don’t know. All we do know is somehow someway we survived and evolved.

I have a hard time wrapping by brain around childbirth before doctors. Before hospitals and ultra sounds. Before Tri-mesters and Babies R Us!

In today’s world there are so many procedures and precautions. So many tests. Concerns. Which is fine. If we have the technology and resources today for a safe birth of a child, I’m all for it. I’m naturally curious of childbirth before these advancements within our human race.

I’m going back a few years but what transpired when a woman gave birth before doctors and hospitals? They couldn’t send a text message to their husband stating they think their water broke and it’s time! They didn’t have gender revealing parties! The men were out hunting and gathering while the women sat around in a cave and gave birth to children. They dealt with it and figured it out. Cut their own cords. Dealt with pain. No Vicodin. Life went on. Damn that must have been some scene.

Today is much different. My wife gave birth to our twin boys in 2005. There were some complications. Babies were breached. They had to schedule a C-section delivery. What a walk in the park this is compared to natural childbirth. I think!

We set our date. We glided into the hospital at 6am the day of delivery. They put my wife in a wheelchair and strolled her into the maternity ward as we passed 347 labor induced women prancing the hallways looking like they haven’t taken a shit in a month. They were cursing, vomiting, sweating, threatening to kill their husbands and many other situations I can’t mention in this blog because we like to keep it clean around here. 😜

They separated me from my pregnant wife like I had the plague. They rinsed me off. Threw a shower cap on me. Dressed me in a blue smock. Shoved a sour tuna sandwich down my throat. Installed foot booties on me. Forced me to fill out a questionnaire form and instructed me to sit tight and don’t move. I felt like I was in prison for sexually assaulting a squirrel. It was terrible.

They injected 17 ounces of morphine into a woman who catches a buzz from a sip of White Zinfandel.

It was now safe for me to enter.

First thing I saw as I approached was her smiling. Naturally I thought there was complications as a result of her excitement. Turns out all was going according to plan. So I thought. The image of my wife happy, the Hasidic love making sheet that separated my vision of reality, the soothing words of the doctors along with the fact I simply could not see through the oversized old lady shower cap I was wearing gave me a sense of comfort. Things were going to be Ok.

Then the Doctors words echoed “Hey Dad? Do you want to meet your son?” Fuck!!! This meant I had to cross the safety of the sheet and participate. I accepted the challenge. I tip toed towards the action. I turned the corner. I threw the fuck up!!!! Twice. All I saw was a child suspended in the air attached to a bloody slinky. My wife’s heart, pancreas and left nipple were carefully placed on a silver dinner plate and I panicked. I needed to check my wife for assurance she was ok as her liver was pulsating on the floor. She looked at me and gave me the biggest smile and said “I love you babe.” I replied “what the fuck is going on here?”

Keep in mind there’s another little bastard in there. Next thing you know I see two babies suspended in mid air with telephone wires attached to my wife’s stomach and intestines everywhere. It was bad.

We survived. We all made it out alive.
Childbirth has come a long way.

Please tell me about any of your child birth experiences!