I know I just did a Lesson in Manhood post, but I just had to get this one out. Sorry.
Lessons in Manhood
Lesson 4: Think before you speak, especially if you’re an idiot
Squatch, this one’s not for you. Dad just needs to vent on this one, and noticed a particular young man who could use a Lesson in Manhood. So—earmuffs.
To the student athlete who, yesterday, called my wife a bitch:
First of all, my wife is your teacher; you are her student. There was no need to get personal. But you want to make it personal, fine—we’ll get personal. You and your teammate/friend were caught trying to cheat by putting your names on other students’ work when it was painfully obvious that you didn’t do it. Why is it obvious? Well, student athlete, it’s because you’re an idiot.
So you were caught. You should’ve expected it. But you didn’t because, as mentioned before, you’re an idiot. And now, as you walk out the door after being told you’re not getting credit for the assignment (which is generous because, technically, that being plagiarism, you could’ve just failed the course), you call your teacher a bitch. So not only are you an idiot, you’re a coward, too.
I understand. You think you’re the man. You’re the king around here. The star of the team. BMOC. So if you say someone’s a bitch, then it should only logically follow that they are, in fact, a bitch. Right?
Well, let’s lay aside the fact that calling a woman a bitch is misogynistic and chauvinistic (big words, I know—look ’em up). I wish your mom would’ve taught you better than that. We’ll just put that whole issue to the side and focus on you for a second, student athlete.
It’s easy to call her that now. But let’s wait a few years. Then I’ll come on down to the Chili’s where you work, where you’re two years into your thriving busboy career because you flunked out of college and were too stupid to get a job anywhere else. Then we’ll see exactly who in this situation is the bitch, when nobody gives a purple shit about how much of a basketball star you were at community college in the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma. You know the college—the one you’re going to flunk out of.
Think I’m wrong, student athlete? Then I welcome you to prove me wrong. Till that point, I’ll continue with my assumption, and you should probably shut your fucking idiot facehole.
Hugs and kisses,
P.S.—I’m letting it slide this time, but do it again and you’ll be gumming your cafeteria food.