I eat noobs.
I have a low tolerance for stupidity.
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Crimson Red Pimpin\' Cane
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Sad, but true:
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.
He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children, are in charge)
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations (REGULATIONS?????) were set in place. Reports of a six-year- old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent (CONSENT???????) to administer Panadol, sun lotion or a Band Aid to a student - but could not inform (AUTHORIZATION TO RELEASE INFORMATION?????) the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, and criminals received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion;
his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason.
He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm A Victim. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.
If you still remember him, pass this on.
"You have a thing called imagination buried somewhere in your brain. Prod it a few times with a stick called 'thinking' and see if it spits something out at you."
For anybody that actually reads my profile, I am a girl.
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