Name:Harrison Location:United States

The Original Lovable Little Fuzzball

Here's the straight stuff.

The adventures of Harrison are true.
Try a few of his Crunchy Bites for a taste.
--Alpha Human Mom

Sunday, March 12, 2006

P.T. Barnum Meets Little Boy Blue

"Little Boy Blue come blow your horn,
The sheep's in the meadow the cow's in the corn.
But where's the boy who looks after the sheep?
He's under a haystack fast asleep.
Will you wake him? No, not I—for if I do, he's sure to cry."

Substitue "…under a desk fast asleep…" and it sounds like those Henry VIII-era verseifiers are describing today's school kids. (Rumor has it that bit of poetry was referrin' to Cardinal Woosley of Hampton Court, who, until he got too big for his woolen britches, had the power of life and death over the peasants.)

Anyway, the Dallas Observer has some good news and some bad news for you human parents.

The good news—your kid isn't a lazy, spoiled brat. He/she (or possibly "it") is an indigo child; a more highly evolved being; an example of "the most exciting, albeit odd change in basic human nature that has ever been observed and documented."

"Eventually indigos will redeem the world, making it a tropical Eden free of trash, war, and processed foods."

In that order?

The bad news—many currently "identified" indigos are killers, psychos, or homeless.

"Born with a feeling of royalty, indigos will not respond to authority or any form of discipline based in guilt, fear or manipulation. Most cannot function in traditional school systems, not because they have ADD but because they are smarter than their teachers."

Oh, yeah. Like teachers don't already have enough problems with the "my-little-Johnny-can-do-no-wrong" syndrome. Now they're gonna' have to listen to parents tellin' 'em "my little Johnny is the supernatually gifted savior of the world."

But if ya' eat the right foods like "…organic fruits and vegetables, [you will] be filled with energy and light," and beat that pesky psychotic-homeless-killer thingy—'specially if ya' finish it all off with "…a live essence food called super blue-green algae." Sounds like something ya' find floatin' in mud puddles after a rainstorm.

"The indigo theory began with a San Diego parapsychologist in the 1970s."

Well, d'uh. Any indigo could have seen that one comin'. I know I did.

The article focuses on the divorced father of two—a massage therapist cum actor cum dressmaker currently workin' at a salon run by a gyspy—who obviously hasn't got a clue about raisin' kids. No doubt he's buyin' into the con as a cover story for his own incompetence. (While readin' about him, I started wonderin' how he managed to have kids in the first place, 'cause he sure doesn't have any balls to speak of.)

'Course the article has to take an obligatory swipe at Christians bein' just as crazy as people who "…believe in pink force fields and blue halos…"

"[A] large chunk of Dallas--make that America--believes that a 33-year-old carpenter died, went to heaven and returned three days later a resurrected being."

And since there seems to be somethin' in the water in Texas, you know the people pullin' off this fraud would invoke the Dan Rather Fake But Accurate Defense.

"Both Virtue and Twyman have acknowledged that there is no hard science to prove their theory, but that doesn't mean it isn't true, they say."

By the end, the useless excuse for a parent has not only been hooked, he's been netted, landed, and filleted.

"[Jaired] Conrad said Dusk had more or less read his mind the other day… His younger brother, Day, was exhibiting signs that he might be a rainbow child, which is the next stage of evolution after indigos… Dusk was still struggling in school and had demanded to be taken out and put into another school...

He names his freakin' kids "Dusk" and "Day" and wonders why they're havin' problems at school? On the other paw, I suppose we should be glad he didn't name 'em "Beavis and Butthead."

"I don't really see myself as a parent anymore," Conrad said. "I'm more of a guide, a facilitator." It seemed like a strange thing to say, but what other choice did Conrad have? His boys were smarter than he was and more highly evolved."

Hell, my kids are more highly evolved than you are.

Geeze. Get a grip, buddy—preferably on a paddle connected to some bratty boy bottoms.

posted by Harrison at 11:27 AM


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