Let's quit half-assing it, America

Let me set the stage here for you before I get into it. There's a couple things you can't tell from the photo (and I'll take full responsibility for it, since this is admittedly a half-assed photo and I'm making a call-to-arms for full-fledged effort, but let's move on). This is actually a guy, probably about 20, decked out in a knee-length pink dress. Secondly, this guy has some disgustingly hairy legs poking out from underneath that dress. Some high-quality nastiness, let me tell you.

So here's the deal. You want to be a guy that dresses up like a woman? Fine. Be my guest. I'm not gonna stop you. But let's quit half-assing it, ok? I mean, this guy had (given, it was a shitty dress) taken the time to find the dress, get a matching shoulder bag (also not pictured) and gone as far as putting a pretty little pink bow in his hair. But the real show of effort would have been shaving your legs. That's the hard part. That's the part that says "I care." And he just said "fuck it." Well, I'm tired of "fuck it." Let's put some god damn effort into it people.

Just imagine how this kid's dad feels. Every Christmas he's gotta send out a holiday card to friends and family with a picture of everyone gleefully huddled around the tree--Dad, his glowing wife, loyal dog, and then there's Junior's nutsack poking out from underneath his reindeer skirt cuz he was too lazy to put some Santa panties on.

Well, here's a news flash for you, fancy boy. There are two things every dad wants of his son: 1) Be a man. 2) Whatever it is, give it 110%. Well, you've clearly stripped him of any chance of the first. So let's at least throw him a bone here and try to salvage some kind of relationship. Let's see some effort. Get some nair, tuck your fucking sack back and own it. If you're gonna be a bitch, be a bitch! Otherwise you're just another douche in a dress.

America--it's time to beat your kids.

OK, here's the deal. In the past, I could never see myself advocating something like this. Kids are generally pretty innocent, and the thought of physical violence against them really is an arguably offensive institution. But the times, they are a changin', my friends. I think this epiphany came into full fruition at O'Hare last Thursday while I waited at the gate to board my flight. As I sat people watching with the sounds of Jeopardy! blaring from the airport bar TV (dichotomy at its best, considering the slack-jawed inbreds huddled around the tappers) I saw this kid (pictured above) skateboarding through the terminal. Now, at the risk of sounding like an old man shaking his cane at "those damn kids and their newfangled inventions!' let me explain.

First of all, just look at this kid. He's got his hoodie pulled up over his head, with his sunglasses on, meaning at some point in time, he took them off for security, then put them back on inside the terminal because he's just that fucking cool. And it wasn't even a normal skateboard, it was a dickbag skateboard (pictured below).

Guess what, Mackenzie or Skylar or Kennedi or whatever the fuck your stupid-ass name is, no 8-year-old is that fucking cool. And some people would blame the parents. Fuck that. I guarantee you this fuckwad's mom did not tell him to pull his hoodie up, leave his sunglasses on inside, and go sashaying through the airport on his douchewagon. What's the solution, you ask? Violence. A good old-fashion beltwhipping. Buckle first. That's right, I said it. Beat some humility into that kid. And you know what kids are always asking for? To be treated like an adult. Well, you know what, Hamilton? From time to time adults get their asses kicked. Sometimes really badly. Sometimes so badly that they have to come up with inventive excuses to explain their bruises like "I fell down the stairs" or "I'm taking a boxing class" or "I'm a fucking ass clown who skates through O'Hare with my hoodie up and sunglasses on and someone came out of nowhere and exacted some well-deserved vigilante justice on my punk ass."

At any rate, after I took this butt-monkey's picture I stood up to go grab a sandwich before boarding my plane. Unfortunately, Starbucks was the only option. And as I'm waiting in line to grab my overpriced yuppie-wich, a mom and her two kids comes strolling up, and with her hand on son's back says (and I shit you not) "What do you want from Starbucks Trevor...oh, look, they have paninis, I know you love your paninis..." Here we go again...