That’s right, we’re back, and raring to kill. For all the fans of PWSBK, my deepest apologies for not writing with more frequent installments. I’d like to list the lame-o excuses every negligent blogger comes up with after time away from the computer, but I have none other than that I’ve had better things to do with my time.
The 17th installment of PWSBK covers a large and controversial group: parents. No, not your parents or my parents, or Donna Reed, the Cleavers, the Seavers, not even Redd Fox’s Sanford. I refer to the new breed of parents, whom I will call P.A.R.E.N.T.S.™.
You see a lot of P.A.R.E.N.T.S.™ clogging the aisles of grocery stores, dominating sidewalks with obnoxious baby strollers, holding the little ones in papooses that double as a yoga-mat carrier and dog-treat dispenser. You know who I’m talking about. I’m talking about P.A.R.E.N.T.S.™. They cluster in afternoon Traipse Groups, nattering away about their comfortable lives and the problems they, by virtue of power jobs and ‘enlightened’ salaries, just don’t have.
P.A.R.E.N.T.S.™. They are arrogant and entitled, often staring you down when you walk toward them with your dog, as if to say, “Because my child is a human being and therefore several genetic orders superior to a canine, you will step aside before I will.” Never works with me, don’t you know. I love walking into a baby stroller. What’s even more powerful is just pretending I’m going to walk into a baby stroller. Now, that gets a guardian’s blood flowing. Have a nice day.
In this week’s San Francisco Bay Guardian, Amanda Nowinski raises that most vile of liberal rags out of the gutter with her gorgeously written indictment of P.A.R.E.N.T.S.™. Reading the article, I laughed 5 or 6 times, which is 5 or 6 times more than the Guardian has ever made me laugh. But that’s a separate post. Now, I leave you with Nowinski’s hilarious opening paragraph.
“If you live in San Francisco and are in possession of a conventional vagina, you are most likely pregnant. And if you’re not pregnant, you’re either anxious to become so or have just pinched out a baby and are looking to closing the deal on numbers two and three before you hit 40. If none of the above applies, I, a new mother myself, give you permission to ignore that self-righteous pregnant bitch eyeing your MUNI seat and openly admit the following: SF was edgier when it was just a bunch of wayward freaks in crotchless ass pants.”
(I’d provide a link to SFBG.com’s online version of the article, but their fucked up web site doesn’t seem to feature it. Assholes.)