That's it, I'm Not Breeding. Ever.

An eighteen-year-old New Jersey girl is trying to sue her parents for tuition after she moved out. Not just for tuition to continue her 3.5 GPA at a private school (that's it? 3.5? I beat that and I skipped most of my Junior year), but also to support her financially while she attends the college of her choice.
Even the Commie News Network has a field day with this... relatively speaking. The only therapy the parents need is someone explaining to them that being a "liberal, liberal parent" (quote from the father, find the source yourself) isn't exactly a good thing.

Holy heavenly monkey-fuck, how do you go that wrong in raising a child?

If I have to explain to you what's wrong with her lawsuit, we're going to be here all day. Instead, let's focus on how truly and deeply the parents have failed. Let's compare her and her upbringing to me and mine, because I feel like pointing out how awesome I am compared to this miserable waste of carbon whose greatest contribution to society is and shall ever remain the mockery we make of her.

The first time I was kicked out of my father's house, I was twelve years old (give or take; it was the end of fourth grade). Vague allegations of abuse like this girl's making? Nope - I can rattle off a list of abusive things my step-mother did. Damn shame I never mentioned it at school when I was getting into fights, suspended, and eventually expelled. Actual events, though by this point I don't remember the dates - nor do I care to. That's a lot more than this girl's got, apparently. I moved in with my mother in Bowling Green, OH, and my father pulled me back after she moved to Chicago. The second time I moved out, it was all on me and it was my decision. I was fifteen-sixteenish (look, eight years is a long time if you've been in the Army for seven of them and if I was good at math I'd never have re-upped), and wanted to move out because my father was remarrying and I saw a lot of similarities between that woman and my first stepmother. I didn't wait to give her the benefit of the doubt, which it turns out I should have 'cause my mother was a verbally and emotionally abusive alcoholic. The fallout from that is still playing out; our relationship hasn't quite recovered from it. That lasted about a year and a half before I moved back in with my father and new stepmother. That lasted about a year and a half (until I was nineteen) before it became apparent to all involved that I really should get out on my own.

Compared to my backstory, this girl - cheerleader, honors student, attends private schools, has lived in a liberal household where her parents tried to be her friends - has been living a goddamned fairytale dream life. It's time for her to wake up.

While I was living with my father and stepmother, especially after I turned eighteen, there was a contract of sorts - much like, I imagine, these parents provided for their precious little snowflake crotch-fruit daughter. I was expected to (shock! horror!) do the chores in exchange for room and board. Not a bad deal, really; I was pretty much just a live-in housekeeper with no pay but all the amenities you could ask for. Hell, they even helped me with college tuition in exchange for my labor - which I suppose balances out when you compare my story with this girl's, because I never got to attend a fancy private school.
... Well, except for the one I got kicked out of in the first grade. It was a Catholic school, and the nuns thought I was the Anti-Christ.
I got kicked out of a lot of schools growing up.

It never once occurred to me, despite my upbringing being a whole lot less privileged and pleasant than this girl's, to sue my parents. The fact that this case made it as far as it has (the judge didn't throw all of it out, more's the pity) is a disgrace not only for her and her parents, but the New Jersey legal system. Here's the fun thing about being an adult, kids: You are independent. Your parents owe you nothing. They brought you into this world and spent a hell of a lot of money raising you. They don't owe you a goddamn dime after you turn eighteen and become a legal adult. The fact that these parents failed to instill this value in their daughter, the fact that they were incapable of drilling through her mildly-intelligent brain the nature of 'independence' and 'adulthood' disgusts me.

Father's Day

I know, it was actually yesterday. My father doesn't read this blog, and I think he might have a heart attack if I remembered something like Father's Day, Mother's Day, somebody's birthday, Christmas, etc.

It wasn't until I got out into the world that I really came to understand just how great a father I had. Sure, he has his faults. Everyone does. He's still a good man. Growing up, though, there were times I hated him for the things he did.

He taught me right from wrong. He taught me that the only way to get something was to work for it, even if he had a hard time suppressing that generous streak of his. He taught me generosity, too. Patience, kindness, and a willingness to open up a can of whup-ass when someone desperately needs it.
Typically that last was on me, applied with a leather belt after I got into a fistfight at school for the umpteenth time.
He taught me duty, honor, respect, and loyalty. My father never served in the military, but he knew those things better than many in uniform. He taught me faith and patriotism. Not the kinds that shout themselves from the street corners and the rooftops at the first hint of a crisis, but the quiet, strong varieties that weather any storm and come out the stronger for it. He taught me the proper way to fold a flag and respect for the flag at an age when most kids were still working on learning to ride bikes. There are grown men in uniform who still don't know how to fold a flag. He taught me the sanctity of marriage, and the importance of spouse and family. Coming from a generation that thought it was cool to question authority and disrespect those who hold it, he taught me to respect my betters and my elders, that there's a difference between someone having to earn my respect and me being disrespectful to them. He didn't teach me these things by telling me them, he taught me by doing them.

I look at some of the other sperm donors my battle-buddies have had. Deadbeats, liberals, drunks, drug addicts, abusers. It seems a good father these days is about as rare as a unicorn, and I can't help but wonder how much better the world would be if there were a million more like him. If I ever do wind up breeding, I hope to be half as good a father as he was.