Obama's Speech Made My Son A Communist
When Barack Obama addressed America's schoolchildren yesterday my nine year old son made it through the whole process with his soul intact. I suppose I'll get used to living with a pre-teen Communist. Or so I thought.
The little tyke had been busy. He had redistributed the loaf of bread somewhere so we rationed the last piece between the rest of the family—apparently he had feasted well before the rest of us got up. I paid the sitting-down-at-the-table tax and, still hungry, took my budding Communist to school.
I must admit I didn't quite understand it all, but part of me was proud: I thought he showed a lot of initiative for a little Socialist. Maybe Mr. Obama really was inspiring. My eyes were beginning to open to the world around me in a way that seemed impossible before THE SPEECH.
As my son got out of the car I reminded him, as I always do, to keep his dreams in the forefront of his mind and to work hard to achieve them (he wants to be an astronaut!). He gently but sternly admonished me for wasting time on such foolishness and said dreams are for suckers; his dream—the only dream really—was to be part of the cradle-to-grave bureaucracy and serve President Obama and his awe-inspiring agenda.
This concerned me, but I chalked it all up to some sort of phase he must be going through. When I picked my son up from school he was very excited to tell me about his day. Perhaps this whole Commie-Pinko-Socialist thing had blown over.
Okay, what was he so excited about? It seems my son and his friends (in their matching brown shirts) had rigged the school election. How, you ask? They scared the friends of the kid they didn't want to win away from the polls through a clever and merciless combination of mean stares, name-calling, Charlie horses and even the occasional snuggie or wet Willy.
My concern continued to grow, especially when he told me he didn't need to study because everybody got the same grade anyway. I figure maybe football practice would pull him out of his Commie stupor. What's more American than football? But there was no such luck. He wanted to quit football so he could spy on us and the other parents full-time and report any parent who wasn't working to promote Barack's agenda.
Just when I was finding it difficult to keep hope alive, my wife stepped in and solved the problem. First, she made my son do the nastiest chores for three hours, including poo patrol. When he demanded to be paid for his work she split the money evenly between him and his brother and sister even though they didn't do any work. Then she took half of the money he had left as tax. There are moments that remind you why you married your spouse and this was one of them. But she wasn't quite finished. She said that everybody would be treated the same from now on and fed him the same amount of food as his three-year-old sister—one fifth of his usual meal—and sent him to bed at 7:30 (her bedtime). Gawd, I love her!
When he woke up in the morning he was a Capitalist.
Tom Schlegel
The Conservative Comedy Cure For That Painful Liberal Hangover
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I loved It!
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