Big Fat Pigs Have Absolutely No Context


My dad homie, Mark “the mad professor” in San Diego, sent me an emailing to tell me about a New York Times piece on kids and their incessant snacking.

I’ve been saying this shit for years (at least since parenthood). I tell my kids that a snack in my house (as a kid) consisted of rolling up one piece of white bread (generic “Lady Lee” brand) with a banana pepper in the middle. Or, if I was really lucky, some crackers—Sunshine brand, you know, the makers of the knock-off Oreo known as “Hydrox”—with Nucoa Margarine, that shitty Trans Fat laden tub of yellow muck. That was fuckin’ snack in the lower middle class. My kids get 3 snacks a day–1 in school, 1 in after school care, and then they have the audacity to ask for a snack when they get home. Of course, I oblige.

He’s right here, you know.  Snacking.  No lie, it’s all the little fuckers do.   And they act all entitled about it too.  Visiting kids (don’t get me going on the term “play date”) all creepin’ up on me asking, “do you have any snacks?”  And if they get the wrong shit like bowl of grapes flown in from Chile, they’re all snooty and belligerent.  Nigga what?!

Sign up for some school “volunteering” and you’ll see that it mostly consists of bringing some kind of snack.  I made the rookie mistake of bringing oatmeal raisin cookies one time.  Gingerbread house making activity?  Fuckers eat frosting straight from the can.  Halloween and Valentine’s day was invented by candy moguls, shit!

Three words: Girl Scout cookies.

And we wonder why they are all sedentary, unhealthy, fat as hell, ADD, and suck at sports.  All they do is fucking eat.  Eat, eat, eat.  Gogurt.  String cheese.  “Fruit” snacks.  Muffins.  Cheez-Its.  Cereal up the ass.  They act like candy is one of the fucking food groups.  You ever see the little bastards loot a goddamn Starbucks?  The apple fritter has a fat content estimated to be around 80g.  Hey, hey, hey…It’s fat Adin.  Why does Johnny have diabetes?  Because people can’t cut up a damn apple and tell the little shitheads (in their legal custody) to eat it or shut up.  Maybe that’s the jigsaw piece missing from the autism puzzle: High Fructose Corn Syrup.

My kid asked me, “Why is everybody in Africa so skinny?”  Because they don’t graze on sugar all day.  What recession?

I didn’t even read the Times piece.  What?  I’m going to learn something about the shit I see with my own eyes every day?  And it’s not the kids’ fault at all.  It’s the intellectually lazy, emotionally squishy parents who somehow operate on the “I want my kids to have everything I didn’t” paradigm.  Nigga, what?!  How about give them some discipline.  You apparently didn’t have any of that.  I think I may have had a “snack” maybe once a week.  On Saturdays.  After playing for four hours outside and eating lunch.  Then I went back out for the second shift burning calories like Wall Street executives are burning my taxes on hookers and cigars.

Kids don’t have a context.  Humans are born dependent as Haiti.  Their locus of control is highly external; what parents allow and what friends do is what children learn.  So it’s up to us to learn them little parasites a thing or three.  Next time they ask for a(nother) goddamn snack, tell them to get the fuck outta the kitchen and get back on that damn Wii you bought them.  You’re so close to beating daddy’s high score.


5 Responses to “Big Fat Pigs Have Absolutely No Context”

  1. dooflop Says:

    Good point, but on the other hand, someone’s got to finish those Scooby Doo snacks in your cupboard!

  2. Exactly Says:

    Thank you. The ‘fat-tax’ is one of the greatest things imagined. Tell me that ring ding is any different than a cigarette or Midnight Thunder! Of course it’s different, but unless you’re dense enough to believe that the Wu Tang® lady lost all her digits from cigarettes alone and not an entire lifetime of poor eating habits then you get the point.

  3. Helen Says:

    This all strikes so many chords. Professor Mark, we grew up on Lady Lee and Lucerne and whatever the other house brands were, too–thanks for the reminiscence.

    Special occasion dessert, on the weekend = house brand Ice Milk (remember that stuff?)–lower fat, & cheaper, in the rectangular cardboard carton that fell apart after being opened a few times.

    Snack = it’s a Saturday afternoon that Daddy doesn’t have to work, and he invites us to the table for a special “fruit party”–i.e., my brother and I sit at the kitchen table with our father and, with a paring knife, he slices up one piece of fruit for the three of us to share, doling out little pieces to us until it’s all gone. Then, it’s back out to the back yard to jump and play in the dirt and weeds with shovels, metal poles, pieces of board, old pie tins, rocks, sticks, water, and wooden spoons–see ya at dinner!

    As a school volunteer and the parent of two kids under 10, one of whom is a Type I diabetic, I was LMAO reading this…I think about this shit all the time… DOY… wish you coulda seen the nasty WalMart “bakery” sheet cake a mom brought to the 4-year-olds for snack last week, in celebration of her daughter’s birthday, with its HFCS “frosting” and fine-mist-sprayed-on brilliant purple and blue Hannah Montana frosting overlay. The children were insane when we picked them up. Red #40, anyone?

    Please DO do a thing re Play-Dates. I can hardly wait.

  4. spleazeball Says:

    You forgot to mention how dried fruit BETTER have some yogurt or chocolate coating. Regular raisins WUT?!

  5. Bootie Aye Says:

    I’m so glad your fellow hommie daddy Trace turned me on to your rants…they make my day.

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