Flight back to DCA yesterday was as full as my Uncle Ed's belly Thanksgiving afternoon. I had a nice window seat like I always get, and the guy next to me didn't smell like gin or mothballs, so I thought I'm home free. No such luck-ski. The row right in front of mine had a guy, his wife and two little brats. The wife had the kid on the aisle side, daddy was in charge of the the little tax deduction RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. Of course this cumshot gone wrong screamed the entire flight. Did daddy-oh-lame-oh say shit to his little snot nosed darling? Nope. Zilch. Not so much much as a gentle: "Johny if you don't shut the fuck up Daddy's gonna chop your balls off before we get to Akron..." I was ready to ask the crew for some duct tape..or a hammer. I understand kids are..er well um kids, but I've found they respond well to training. Or violence. Some men just don't seem to understand that the "parenthood" thing is ongoing. Just because you managed to splash some jizz up the wifes who-ha don't make you Father of the year dickweed.
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