The Best Defense Is A Good Offense
How many blog posts have headlines that reference Mel, the chef on Alice. Actually I am not sure if Mel actually said the best defense is a good offense or not but if he did Flo would have said to kiss her grits.
But for the sake of the post I’ll share a story about my youth and one about the present.
My mother tells me when I was a wee lad I went through a phase where I would walk up to other children, introduce myself and then hit them. I’d say I was a hit on the playground but it is an awful pun and my mother wouldn’t appreciate it.
There are still a few moms who think I am an awful child but as a kid of the 7os I am happy to ask if any of them actually paid attention to what we kids were doing because in those days you could send your kid outside while you popped a couple of Valium and smoked Virginia Slims with your box of wine.
I’ll let you decide if I am exaggerating or not.
When my mother asked me why I hit those other kids I told her I was worried they were going to hit me so I hit them first. No, I wasn’t paranoid at all, they were out to get me.
About The Offense And The Defense
Earlier this week a dude decided to mix it up with another dad blogger and we unleashed the hordes upon him. Let me tell it is a frightening sight to see 983,322 men wearing cargo shorts and carrying parenting gear come running at you.
The sounds of the huffing and puffing from the well padded are barely heard by those bastards who still wear the same size 32 inch jeans they wore in college.
We carry a variety of armor and ordinance with us. The diaper brigade is armed with biological weapons while the Toddler crew uses Thomas The Tank Engine rifles that uses fat conductor caliber shells.
Those are pretty nasty, but not as bad as what happens when you step on one of the Lego mines with a barefoot.
But none of that compares to what happens when the older fellas roll out the angry teenage girls brigade. I have seen grown men run in the opposite direction of those eye rolling, laser eye glaring look of death throwing girls.
Anyway, your old friend Jack not being of sound mind or body doesn’t always exhibit the common sense or maturity a crotchety old men has earned so during these dust ups you can sometimes find him at the center.
This week was no different.
I know. I should hang my head in shame for jumping over the bridge to troll the trolls but sometimes an almost middle aged man feels the need to show the young bucks he can still run with them.
And that my friends is part of the reason why the picture from my statcounter is up there.
One of those trolls spent almost two hours checking out my blog.
The Past Meets The Present
It is possible it was an innocent visit and that the dude was just curious to see who the unhinged lunatic was. Perhaps they were trying to ascertain if I was in a beserker rage.
You can’t blame them. How many times have you seen a father wield strollers in either hand with the sort of skill I do.
It would be pretentious to say it is all natural so I won’t say it but I do have lots of practice. I have been known to change diapers one handed, while holding vomiting toddlers and keeping a watchful eye on the three other kids that are having a pretend lightsaber fight.
I was prepared in advance for such a thing, so the kids knew that when dad said he was using the Force on them they had to pretend to be frozen in place for at least 90 seconds.
Of course 90 seconds is 30 seconds more than I need to change a diaper so that left me with ample time to enter the fray with my own lightsaber.
I was a whirling dervish out there which is probably why that other parent’s kids entered the battle. Everyone wants to take on the best and if they hadn’t been cheaters they would have acknowledged I won.
Anyhoo I thought about the visitor and wondered if perhaps they were going to launch their own attack upon me. The one they unleashed upon the other dad blogger was a poorly written and pathetic attempt at parody.
So I thought that maybe they might try the same thing with me and then I decided they would never do such a thing. Except there was this little voice that yelled at me that maybe I was wrong.
Echoes from more than forty years reached through the decades and said “better safe than sorry” so I shrugged my shoulders and screamed “BATTLE!”
Ok, I didn’t scream but I thought if he did try to launch his own poorly written parody of me I would be ready for it by putting out a post that showed I own real estate inside his head that I picked up for free.
No one spends two hours plotting unless they really like the reading in which case ignore all the stuff that came before this and accept my gratitude.
Either way I win. Woohoo!