In life, you are either the diaper or the shit.
Given your child’s twitchy disposition and desire to build Lego kingdoms 24/7, it’s a pretty clear he’s going to get punched more often than cheap drywall in the men’s bathroom at a redneck bar on Saturday nights.
The kid needs protection.
The kid needs to learn ruthlessness.
The kid, well shit, the kid needs a pair of balls.
That’s why it’s a good idea to send your child to mafia training camp.
Peace of Mind for You, Cement Shoes for Your Child’s Enemies
We’re not advocating violence. In fact, we’re downright terrified by it. But, the world is a dangerous place for children like yours (remember, this is the pussy who cried for 3 days after he didn’t get a Dora the Explorer backpack for Christmas).
Mayhem lurks everywhere; there are atomic wedgies to be given, shoelaces to be tied together, and gobs of Ben-Gay to be secretly placed inside your kid’s underwear.
So, you might be thinking to yourself, “Isn’t it a little excessive to have thugs train my kid? Won’t they do more harm than good? Won’t they expose him to dangerous substances like testosterone?”
Naturally, you’re thinking of the dark side, which is common when discussing America’s hirsute and scabbed underbelly. But that underbelly has value that goes beyond what you’d expect. It’s called safety. And it’s also called peace of mind, especially when you consider the benefits:
- Your child will learn the art of persuasion through the use of simple methods like cracking their knuckles and neck or putting a pair of testicles in a vice.
- Your child will learn to economically useful words such as “extortion,” “wiretapping,” and “gimme-ya-freakin-money-or-I’ll-break-your-freakin-legs”
- Your child will come to understand, down to his marrow, what pant-shitting fear looks like in the eyes of kids like Jimmy Wayne Jones, who once stole lunches but now begs your son not to force feed him a Lego tower.
(And if you can’t afford the pricey New Jersey Mafia Camps, you can always just hire a bully to protect your kid)
Trick or Treat … or Therapy
Rule #106: Bring Beer to Back-to-School Night
Baby Photos are for Babies
The Beginning of the End
Rule #105: Ignore Your Child’s Anger Issues
Just the Two of Us
Rule #104: Feed Your Child Soap
Parental Supervision: Not Always Required
Rule #103: Push Your Child to Join a Gang
Equals
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That picture brings back memories of my youth. I’m the one in the middle with a mixture of piss and tear stains all over my clothes.
Come to mafia camp. I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.
We went with the cheaper and more convenient option of injecting Jimmy with steroids. He gets muscles, really big, grotesque muscles – and the ‘roid rage, mixed with the hormones of puberty, ensures that nobody will even look at him cross-eyed.
Plus, he’s going to be batting cleanup for the Yankees next year, so my retirement is all set.
In life either your the diaper or the shit, LOL!
We went a different direction, and while my son was away at “genius school”, we convinced his bully he was in juvy for trying to stab a kid with safety scissors.
See when i was a kid if we wanted to not be bullied we just set something on fire and spoke in tongues. The new fangled methods confuse me
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