Dumb Ass Parenting

Many people think I am an anthropologist. I’m not sure why. It could be the Australopithecus africanus skeleton I carry around with me on my back. Or maybe it’s my dirty knees that causes the confusion. Then again, it could be because of the I’m an anthropologist. Wanna feel my bone? t-shirt I wear almost everyday. Whatever the reason, I can assure you, I am not an anthropologist. Please stop asking me to dig up your dead relatives.

Even though I am not an anthropologist, it does not stop me from coming up with anthropologistic theories. I recently developed a theory about a certain aspect of human behavior while reading a book about Bonobos. Bonobos are primates similar to chimpanzees. Some may go so far as to refer to them as the forgotten ape. The most interesting characteristic of Bonobos is that they love to have sex. They are the Charlie Sheen of the animal kingdom (not including humans, which I believe Charlie Sheen is a part of. If I included humans into that metaphor it would set off an infinite loop and we’d be here forever and never get to view the next installment of Dr. Phil’s video blog), only without the popular sitcom (Men with Two Dads, Monday nights at 8:00 on the WB). If only Bonobos had a famous actor dad so they could get the same break. Which brings me to my theory, as it is related to Bonobo dads. But first, to learn more about Bonobos, and you really SHOULD learn more about them, go here, but make sure you come back here. You don’t want to miss the rest of this. They do more than just have sex, like eat, shit, walk around, live in trees, roller derby and have more sex.

I have not actually come up with a new theory. I only said that so you think I’m cool and have it together. Rather, I have found evidence to support an existing theory, one that human mothers choose not to accept. That theory is that dads don’t understand children, really don’t know how to handle them and are incapable of dealing with them to motherly standards. Sure, we all try and some of us are better at it than others, but when you come right down to it, none of us has a clue about what is going on with them. The unfortunate part for you mothers out there is that no matter how much teaching, reassuring, nagging, withholding sex until we learn, whining, instructing, demanding and pleading you do, we will never understand children. On the surface this seems illogical since most of us act like children ourselves, and that may be a clue as to why we are unable to figure out kids. But that is a theory for another day. The reason all of your efforts to change/enhance dads’ (since the plural of man is men, shouldn’t the plural of dad be ded? I think so.) outlooks towards children is that we are genetically incapable of comprehending why they all act like such little dunderheads most of the time. And I have proof. I’ll get to it in a minute.

Half the time, we dads try to ignore the deranged behavior of children, which is why we spend most of our time in the garage, in the bar or sleeping on the couch. The other half of the time, when we are forced to deal with it, we stare in aggravated bewilderment and shout preposterous directives and invectives, because we have no idea what causes children to do what they do and have even less of an idea what to do about it. Consequently, we berate them out of frustration. A classic example of this paternal bafflement is illustrated by Red Foreman, the father from That 70’s Show (Monday nights at 8:00 on the WB), and his “Dumb Ass” and other ass related scolding of his son, Eric. And there is nothing we can do to change that because it is an innate response, solidified by trillions of years of evolution.

Here is proof of my claim:

Take a gander at the look on the Bonobo dad’s face. Obviously, the Bonobo tike must have just punched his sister in the face, taunted a hungry leopard with a rusty slice of terrestrial herbaceous vegetation, or penis fenced with that weird kid in the Bonobo community down the forest path. You know, the one whose hair is parted on the side of his head with the excessively prominent eyebrow ridge. The Bonobo father’s expression elicits thoughts of “What is wrong with you, boy!”, “There is no way you came from my loins!” and, of course, “Dumb ass!” Basically, our only defense as fathers against our offspring is to tell them, in a variety of ways, “don’t do that” in the hopes that they’ll eventually figure out what they should be doing by eliminating all of the insane shit they are inclined to do, ultimately becoming adults in some capacity as a result. This process is validated by the successful breeding and raising of trillions of punks of trillions of species over trillions of years of evolution, with a little bit of help from the maternal side. The picture proves the “You’re a dumb ass!” parenting trait is embedded in all of malehood and cannot be denied. We are helpless against it.

Of Evolution, Laundry and Stubbing

As we all know, the most dangerous part of doing laundry is stubbing a toe. When trucking a full laundry basket through the house it is impossible to make sure your toes veer safely from marauding table and chair legs, bedposts, anvils and flag poles. As a result, Americans stub millions of toes each year while doing laundry. This is a scourge not talked about much in the media because it is too late to do anything about it. It didn't have to be this way.

Don’t get me wrong, I love doing laundry as much as the next guy. My intent is not to vilify the one activity that separates us from the animals and the hippies. In fact, I blame animals that stubbing our toes is even possible. Not that I blame all animals, only the predatory variety whose ancestors had the opportunity to take down our pre-human ancestors.

Crocodiles belong to an ancient species. They have been around forever. I’ll use them as an example of a predator that, with a little thought and foresight, could have helped us out a little bit as we evolved to take over the world and could easily wipe their species off the map right now if we opted thusly, and don’t you forget that Mr. Worm of the Stones. Nice shoes, by the way; are those alligator? I’m sure they had plenty of opportunities to snack on some of our pre-primate ancestors, such as the saber-toothed tree shrew back in the Paleocene epoch, for example. So, there we were, just a bunch of harmless saber-toothed tree shrews, minding our own business, dedicating our lives to the feeding of crocodiles as they launched themselves off the now extinct trampoline ferns, into our arboreal abodes, picking us off one by one, or maybe four by four if it was Bridge night, with a single chomp of their mighty mandibles. Did it ever occur to them to, instead of rudely engulfing us into their greedy mouths, maybe go after our toes? It does to me, but I guess I’m a little bit more of a creative killer than crocodiles. A sturdy poke from one of their teeth onto one of our cute little tree shrew toes, emulating a stubbing, would have rendered us defenseless, causing us to fall to the ground writhing in agony for a good minute and a half where we could be scooped easily and digested. Instead, many of us scurried away as soon as we heard the “booooiiiiinnngggg” of the trampoline fern. Doesn’t it make sense to you, crocodiles of the world, to incapacitate us first before attacking? Sure it does, now, after I’ve given you the gift of 20/20 hindsight. You just don’t THINK!

Not only would the crocs have had a more successful kill rate, they would have kept us in their good graces, making us less likely to look their way the next time we have a purse, shoe and belt shortage. Symbiosis is not just a word you read in a science book, you know. By having their adorable tootsies stubbed by crocodile teeth, those saber-toothed tree shrews with the hardier phalanges would have been able to endure the initial stubbing blow and been able to scamper away. Over time, only the stout-toed ones would survive to pass along their genes. Each generation would have had increasingly protective toes. Zippity-Zappity-Doo, by the time we humans evolved, we would have been fully equipped with toe hooves, which would have protected us from not only stubbing of toes, but he nips of kittens, dropped hammers, bad dance partners and asshole friends who like to step on your toes for absolutely no reason (what the hell is their problem - GOD!?) (Note: “zippity-zappity-doo” is a technical term used by Darwin to represent lapses in evolutionary development until he figured out how to describe in more detail what actually happened in a given species.) One simple concession by blood thirsty, moronic carnivores, who, as alluded, we, in our fabulously evolved state, could now turn into an exhausted resourse of stylish fashion accessories, if we opted thusly, could have bettered the lives of billions of human beings.

Instead, due to the lack of initiative of early crocodiles and other unimaginative predators of their ilk, we are left to fend for ourselves wielding only a decorative toe nail in this dangerous world of furniture and floor placed structures. Sure, the toe nail does provide some protection against dropping feathers and bug landings, or maybe a medium sized soap bubble, but it is no match for a table leg. Consequently, our rich people are forced to do laundry wearing steel toed boots, while the middle class and below must tough it out and live with the painful torment of ravaging stubs. It didn't have to be this way.