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Sorry. I'm stopping now. I think you get the idea-what was I talking about?

Oh-right. Attention something something.

All these Ritalin- and Adderall-addled kids are simply a result of their parents' wish not to have to pay more attention to them. If your son is unable to focus on his homework for longer than five seconds it doesn't mean he's got a learning disability-it means he's got a pair of balls. EVERY BOY EVER BORN has a short attention span-it's in our DNA. It's why God invented tits-so we would have something to focus on while women were talking to us about how emotionally unavailable we are. Tits, trucks, t-bone steaks and video games. That's what boys are built for.

By the way-if you think there isn't a direct relationship between forcing your child to take prescription drugs in order to do better in school and the current boom in prescription drug abuse in high schools across the country-then keep your head planted firmly up your ass. Three decades ago they were concerned about my generation smoking pot snorting coke and shooting heroin. Now? They have commercials on TV warning about how kids raid their parents' medicine cabinets to get pills. Give yourselves a big dumb round of applause, America-you've home-schooled your kids on how to get fucked up without even leaving the house. And better yet? It's free!

You wanna use ADD as an excuse for not doing well in school-then I want a do-over.

The same thing goes for parents who bring charges against all these high school teachers who are having sex with students. Hey-look at it as free sex education. With NO unanswered questions after the class. These teachers are giving your kids firsthand knowledge they will DEFINITELY use later on in life. In my line of work, all the crap I heard in science and math and physics and algebra went in one ear and right out the other-but head from my homeroom teacher? THAT would be permanently emblazoned in the very front of my frontal lobe.

Where were these teachers when I was in high school? I'd love to go back in time and learn how to feel up Sister Sharon-the real hot nun who eventually left the convent and married one of our lay teachers-Mr. Ridley. Ironic term for a teacher who isn't a priest in a Catholic school who ends up fucking a nun-a LAY teacher. In retrospect-man, was his title an apt one.

There are lawsuits flying left, right and center against priests in Catholic schools who sexually abused their students. I did twelve years in that prison and not one single priest even made a pass at me. Not even the priest who was involved in helping with the high school musicals. I mean, if there's gonna be a gay priest-THAT guy should be the most obvious candidate, no matter what school we're discussing. But not one pass. Maybe I should sue for lack of sexual attention. Maybe they had a negative affect on my self-esteem.

That's a whole separate ball of asshole wax: self-esteem.

CHAPTER 6 - Autism Shmautism

In my day self-esteem came from actual performance and a clear understanding of your place in the world. The facts were laid out almost from the get-go-if you wanted to be a model and you were a girl you had to be tall and thin. If you wanted to play baseball there was no goddam wiffle ball or a special "soft" pretend, fakey baseball set up on top of a standing tee-you had to learn how to hit an actual pitched HARD baseball. Which sometimes would hit you in the face if you didn't get out of the way fast enough. Which would break your face. Which would hurt like hell. If you wanted to be in a rock band you had to learn how to sing and actually play an instrument. While on drugs. Lots of drugs. If you were ugly then you were ugly and there was very little hope you were going to change the way you looked unless the baseball that crushed your face rearranged the bones and let you come out the other end looking like George Fucking Clooney. These were the cold, hard facts of life and your parents were in charge of supplying you with every single