Notes from a Non-Parent 4 – Thanksgiving Edition

Skip the Excuses: If You Waste Food You’re an Asshole

Q: How many Americans can legitimately claim they’ve never been told not to waste food?   A: You don’t know any.

When I was a kid, being told I wouldn’t be excused from the table ‘til my plate was clean was a “cold rule.” Though sometimes lacking context, cold rules were made clear through enforcement, repetition, and amplification: “Don’t touch the stove,” for example, is an easy one. “Don’t insult the skeletal West African baby I want you to envision by leaving food on your plate” was a little harder to get behind. Yet some variation on the admonishment, “Do you know how many children are starving in this world?” was overheard in the home of every playmate and acquaintance I knew. We all sat there squirming until we resentfully swallowed enough disgusting and now-cold whatever-it-was to set us free. Read more

Notes from a Non-Parent 3

Mom Offers Inferior Excuse for Parental Neglect

Source Story: CBS News Crimesider

Nicole Leszczynski left a supermarket without paying for a sandwich she’d eaten because she says she was suffering a “Mommy-brained moment.” In the process, she needlessly exposed her 2-year-old to removal by state Child Welfare Services. So is she absent-minded, full of it, or both? And why are so many “customer service” employees bored and petty little Napoleons?

Allegedly, this incident sparked a “nationwide outrage,” but then 60 of those happen every week. Plus it happened in Honolulu, Hawaii. If it got past you, too, here’s the deal: Read more

Raging Bull

Mother unapologetic after shooting toddler-chomping pit bull, but no one gets sued and devil dog lives

Original Story: Yuba City Appeal Democrat

A neighbor’s dog wandering into your backyard and biting your child means Drag Race Day. The green light hits and you go: no hesitation and no time for tact. Your foot nails the gas pedal and you point the horsepower at the end of the asphalt. Whatever gets in your way sounds like a melon hitting a barrel, then like a dinner salad falling to the floor. Or so went my reaction upon reading this story. ‘Course, I don’t have kids or guns or drag race cars because any one of those things would get me into trouble. Read more