Tuesday, June 14, 2005

When You Don't Need Dr. Laura

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," your one-stop shopping mart for all the best and brightest gods! In the name of Horus, I greet you. Horus says ... ummm ... does anyone out there know ancient Egyptian?

Am I the only American who thinks that if you raise your children "Dr. Laura" style you're going to wind up with adults who think the world owes them a living and should hang on their every word? When she or her callers say "I'm the mother of my child," it makes me want to puke. Because, "Mother," if that's all you are, what the hell are you gonna be when that precious little honey grows up, moves away to Sri Lanka, and finds a full-time job?

Oh, I forgot. Lil' Honey won't ever leave home. Why should she when Mama does everything for her and hangs on her every word?

But there are times when motherhood is a no-brainer. You don't need Dr. Laura, or even your family pediatrician -- or even the local vet -- for some decisions.

Like this one: A former pop star who now looks like that skeleton character in "Nightmare before Christmas" invites your little boy to join him in bed for a pajama party.

Hmmmm. Maybe I'd better call Dr. Laura and see if she thinks that's okay.

Oh, for the right sound effect! This will have to do:


Think of that horn the firemen blast when a car won't get out of the way.

It doesn't matter one bit to me what the King of Pop did with the little boys he slept with. What matters to me, what bothers me, is that there are parents out there who, in exchange for worldly goods, permit their children to be subjected to this behavior. Would you believe the scary guy down the street if he said he only wanted the "pure love" of sleeping with your kid? Of course not. So why trust the scary guy who's been on t.v. and who owns the big house with an amusement park in the backyard?

We'll let the bored gods decide whether or not the King of Pop misbehaved. Because he can't hide from their prying eyes. But in my humble, goat-judge opinion, the guilty party is any parent who knowingly puts a child into that man's hands. Any parent. Including the women who gave birth to the King of Pop's children.

Seriously, Mama. Once you saw your infant dangled over a balcony, would you let him live with Daddy?


Horus found the translation button on the computer! So here is his blessing for the day: "May you live in a time when no mean god kills off all your first-born in one fell swoop."

Thank you, Horus. Stop by anytime.

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