Friday, June 26, 2009

The future is totally frakked.

In the parental oligarchy that is Park Slope, anxiety prone caregivers have hijacked the sport commonly known as little league baseball and reformed it-- the batter swings (and swings and swings) until he hits the goddamned ball. The fielding team merely tosses the ball in the right general direction to score an out. I mean, I understand the desire to build a saccharin world free of hurt and rejection for the precious being that came into the world care of your doula and a Cat Stevens album, but God forbid the imminent future looks like an aluminum wasteland and Wall-E has been specifically designed to annihilate the human race and your kid doesn't even know what it feels like to be struck out at home plate.

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