Black Make History Month -OR- President's Day White Sale

"Use the Schwartz Lonestar! Use the Schwartz!"- Yogurt

"You can do Karate yes or you can do Karate no. You do Karate so-so?
You get squashed like bug." - Mr. Miagi

At risk of drifting into a Bob Greene nebula, I have to once again
make a plea for the children. The whiney, snotty, cranky, demanding, self-absorbed
screamers, cryers, pissers and moaners who swear that their shit-filled leaky diapers DON'T NEED changing or they're not gonna budge from this spot unless they get the 8 pc. McNugget Happy Meal AND three new Wii games!

The incessant keening whine of adamant defiance that can reduce erudite parental units to tears, embarrassment, ulcers or cereal killer. After exhausting one's arsenal of reason, logic and M.A.D. weapons and legally barred from abdicating one's responsibility, there is nothing left but to gather up the insanity and deal with the distraction.

Every parent leaves the home each morning steadied by hope. That no irrational nightmare scenarios will darken their day. Some are blessed, either by temperament, genetics or superhuman skills and training, to never have deal with such things from their own, but all have witnessed full-blown tantrumness in the course of their travels.

Each parent must deal with their own, on their own, in their own way. They must juggle and weave it into their style until they find ways that work without disconnecting from the larger world. Who among us hasn't collapsed at the end of a particularly trying day of parenting and offered up a summation akin to: "Yep, They're still breathing. I did my job."?

The elected and appointed Dads and Moms at every level of our national/global family are suffering insolence right now. It may mean pulling the wagon over and `splainin' a few things before the trip can continue, but at the end of the `splainin' there can be no doubt who the Dads and Moms are.