Stupid Blogger: Hi, folks. This is The Stupid Blogger talking, er, typing. I just wanted to take a moment to introduce a new feature here on the Blog. Our resident newsman, Tom Beaklaw, has graciously agreed to write a series of Op-Ed pieces, taking current news and reporting it along with his own take on the subject. I accept no responsibility for the content of Mr. Beaklaw's articles and the opinions expressed by him are his alone and not necessarily those of myself or the Blog of Stupid.
Tom Beaklaw: But they should be!
Stupid: Ahem, yes. And now, the first installment of "Tom Beaklaw Says..."
TOM BEAKLAW SAYS...
Yes, it's true. The Magic Kingdom is finally getting it right, ladies and gents. Banning children is definitely the way to go. Sure, this is only one restaurant, but it's a start. I envision a day when children will be banned from other public places as well, such as malls and movie theatres. Sit back, close your eyes, and imagine an existence without the constant shrieks of small humans assaulting your ears. Since when did America become such a haven for these tiny creatures, anyway? Does the Statue of Liberty now read, "Give me your stinky, your slimy, and your screaming masses"?
I was sitting in a restaurant the other day, enjoying some fine hot and sour soup, when I was interrupted in my reverie by the arrival of more diners. At first, I thought the eatery was being invaded by the Swiss Army (an organization much maligned, but famous for its corkscrews), but soon realized it was simply a large, rambling family. There were about ten children in all, typical children...you know the type: front teeth larger than their heads, bad haircuts, constant sniffs, pleading voices, and the occasional shrill laugh. I experienced a pang of revulsion so sharp that I inhaled a bamboo shoot and had to pour hot tea down my throat to dislodge it.
The rest of my meal, which I was forced by concern for my sanity to cut short, consisted of trying to slit my wrists with a fortune cookie and listening to the incessant whining of the children at the next table: "I want my cookie," "This is hot!" "Why do the waiters look funny?" "Can I have a cheeseburger?" "I gotta pee," "I don't like rice," "Mommy, I gotta pee," "Do they have a Playland?" "Mommy, I gotta...!" "Where's my chicken?" "Never mind, mommy," and so on.
I realize that many reading this article will assume I am a crusty old curmudgeon who hates children and wishes they would all fall down a well. This is not true, as that might ruin our water supply. However, I do believe that children have taken our society hostage. We are run and controlled by the little blighters.
I'm sure we have all been in stores, minding our own business and shopping for various necessities, when our blissful bubble is suddenly burst by the piercing shriek of a child who has just been told he cannot have the toy of his heart's desire. He wails, kicks, and screams until finally you want to either feed the kid to the goldfish or tell the mother to just buy the damn toy and be done with it. That, of course, is the problem. The kid knows that if he keeps up the performance long enough, he will receive the toy and possibly even an Academy Award. In this way, we are essentially rewarding the child for bad behavior. On the other hand, is it worth putting ourselves through that kind of torture just to teach a lesson to a kid who will no doubt end up dropping out of school and operating a chop shop from his bedroom?
It is true that I was once a child and I know there are those who, given this fact, will take issue with my wise, insightful expositions. However, before they climb upon their rickety high horse, let me just point out that I had the good sense to shun childhood at the quickest opportunity and have never looked back. I have fled the very appearance of childhood, except for a small teddy bear named Mr. Pickle, who sleeps on my pillow each night.
I strongly believe in the old saying, "Children should be seen and not heard" and, frankly, it wouldn't hurt my feelings if they weren't seen, either. Quiet, waif-like creatures, shimmering through the house, doing their chores in silence, before disappearing to their chambers to labor at mathematics until bedtime. Now those are children I could endure. Not approve, but endure.
Until next time, this is Tom Beaklaw saying, "Tom Beaklaw Says...'Goodnight.'"