Why We Suck_ A Feel Good Guide to Staying Fat, Loud, Lazy and Stupid - Denis Leary [22]
By the way-you can go through a glass window or door and not really do any damage-it's when you pull your appendage BACK THROUGH the same glass window or door that you get cut. You also bleed-a lot. I don't even know how many stitches that gaping hole required but you know what? I never punched my way through a glass door again.
Once, in the living room of our apartment, my brother and a gaggle of cousins convinced me to wrap a towel around my neck like a cape and pretend I was Superman, which I did. Then they convinced me to stand on the back of the couch and pretend it was a window ledge on The Daily Planet building, which I did. Then they convinced me to jump from the window ledge over the coffee table (which was doubling as a newspaper truck parked in front of The Daily Planet building) and save Lois Lane (my cousin Betty Ann) from the clutches of the bad guy (my brother Johnny, of course). Needless to say, that was the day I learned that I couldn't fly. I landed on the edge of the coffee table, taking several stitches in the face. Did I ever try to fly again? Nope. Done deal. The quick trip to the emergency room, the blood, the pain, the giant numbing needle in the lips-more than enough to convince me I was born an earthbound creature.
The same theory works with any other form of pain for kids-burning a hand on a stove, getting your tongue stuck to an icy mailbox or a frozen fencepost-feel it once and you never wanna feel it again. It's human nature. I'm sure Jimi Hendrix made a mental note never to puke in his sleep again right before he choked to death.
You have to hit kids. You have a responsibility to do so. Just to show them who's in charge and to remind them that there are boundaries that need to be respected.
Besides-when they are very very small they have diapers on-which means their asses are padded and pretty much pain proof. As they get older and lose the diapers they may actually get used to the ass whacking and become somewhat immune to the pain. That's when you have to change it up a little.
CHAPTER 4 - I Had Sex With Kathie Lee Gifford (And She Was Amazing)
Just wanted to make sure you were still paying attention. If you went right from the table of contents to this chapter-you screwed yourself.
Because I didn't sleep with Kathie Lee Gifford. But in the first chapter of this book-"Why Everyone Hates Us"-I mentioned you by name.
So anyways-back to raising kids:
I called my mom just now to gain her perspective on what is necessary in terms of hitting or not hitting children. Let me describe her to you: if you put Mary Tyler Moore, Mother Teresa and Joe Pesci in a blender, set it on high and let it mix up to a fine, thick chocolatey shake-out would step my mom. She's eighty-one years old but looks like she's sixty, has the energy of someone in their early forties and will kiss you one second, kid you another and threaten to kick your ass the next. I love her. For many reasons. Some of which you are about to witness:
[the phone rings several times]
Hello.
Hey Ma.
Johnny?
No. It's Denis.
Oh, Denis. (laughing) How are you?
I'm good. Hey Ma Mrs. Timmons died of cancer.
Who?
Mrs. Timmons, down the street. Remember I think you and Tommy Barolli egged her house one time?
That wasn't us. I told you Dead as a doornail. Smoked four packs a day. Same thing with Mr. Willoughby from up on Edlin Street. He had horrible cancer.
Is there good cancer?
That's not funny, Brian. Quit that smoking.
It's Denis, Ma.
I know who it is. Uncle Jerry's got terrible pain in his back again God help us that that's not some kind of tumor or something and do you remember Jimmy Hanrahan used to work with Daddy?
Big Jimmy?
Yes. The father.
Yeah.
He has brain cancer.
From smoking?
No-he never smoked. Never drank either. Straight as an arrow Jimmy Hanrahan.
What about Little Jimmy?
The son?
Yeah.
Oh God. He died last year. Terrible cancer.