High Hopes

I have no idea how my parents raised 5 kids and none of us turned out to be serial killers.

In fact, other than me we're all a pretty well adjusted lot. Maybe it's because when we were little there weren't so many distractions. No cell phones, computers, texting, and Skyping. If we wanted to do something, we went outside and played and didn't come in until Mom called us for dinner.

Rakes and Trot have somehow taken it into their heads that the high form of entertainment is to bash each other in the gibleys as hard and often as possible; I remember my brother and I fighting but that area was always one of those unspoken rules that you just didn't go.

Maybe it's the video games. Maybe it's a total lack of parenting. Or maybe, JUST maybe my premonition about the two of them is starting to take hold.

I figure in 15 years or so Johnny Knoxville will be at the point where he realizes that taking shopping carts to his manhood or stuffing M-80's down his pants or whatever else idiotic thing he does for a cheap laugh is for the younger generation.

And those two lunatics standing behind Senor Frog will be ready to take the mantle.

At this point it's about the only thing keeping my thin shred of sanity from snapping in a thousand little pieces.