Fellow Earthlings...

Dr Humble Friends,

The word is spreading.  People are coming to get some ramble all up in their brains.  And I aim to give the people what they want.  Some times when I'm walking down the street, people stop me and ask If I'm really the Creator.  At first I play coy, mainly because I don't know at what point my fans began referring to me as the Creator (Not that it bothers me at all), I also like to let them know that I'm used to the attention.  I sign a couple autographs and quote a few inspired lines.  Then, with tears of joy in their eyes, they depart.  Am I a miracle worker or just another super-hero?  Personally, I don't like to get all caught up in titles and what not.  I'm just trying to fulfill my calling here on this planet.  After which, I'm sure I'll be asked to rule some other planet.

So I want to thank those of you who believe in me and know that we're on to something big here.  And to those of you who think your too cool to read my blog: first of all, it's impossible to be too cool for this and second, screw you and the crappy little tricycle that you rode in on!  We don't need any wannabe, jealous punks (this part is mainly aimed at my father-in-law, he thinks he's sooooo cool.  Wrong Buddy!).

But seriously folks, we've got to upsell this baby.  There are tight jean wearing teen-agers, old wrinkly people, y gente de todo modo.  So spread the word, that there's an education to be found at quiet-ramblings.com.  If you look at the bottom of your screen you'll see we're about to break 900 visits.  But we don't think on small levels here (also a jab at my father-in-law).  Let's bust through 1,000 before this weekend.  If you love it let me hear you make some noise!  I said, if you love it make some noise!  Now post this bad boy on your Facebook page and tell all your homies where it's at.  You're all too kind.

Till the next ramble, play on playa's...

Parenting: getting beat at my own game...

I wonder if my kids would think twice if they knew they were copying antics, from the rule book on scamming parents, written by yours truly.  You would think that this would give me some kind of edge on parenting, having been a young deviant myself.  What I didn't learn til later in life is what would allow so many kids to rule the world.  Don't let your kids read this next part.

If only I knew while sitting on the floor in my room, as a young apprentice, with army action figures strategically placed, papers containing logs and graphs written in crayon, and of course a watchmen to inform me of adults that might be approaching.  I could have saved myself a lot of time by writing:  Parents are generally lazy and have less stamina then I do.  Booyah, rule book complete.  Kids think they're clever, but they're just repeating the same stuff I did.  Their real edge is the parental laziness factor.  Most parents don't have the time or are too tired to be concerned with little tantrums, therefore we pick our battles.  Two year olds on the other hand can go rounds all night, even as they're falling asleep.  Better not let the Army see this either or they'll lower the drafting age

So why don't I take charge knowing the antics that are coming my way?


1.  Because I am to lazy to deal with every little tantrum.
2.  Because there is a small part of me that just wells up inside, knowing that my kids are challenging the system at such a young age.  Even if the system is me.

This is dangerous, I suppose.  It is possible that kids get the wrong idea and think they run the house (current state of the union).  The worst problem is that when you do fly off the handle after putting up with a zillion tantrums, all bottled up, your kids will start wearing tight pants and crying all the time.  If they're boys they'll start wearing make-up and if they're girls they either stop wearing make-up or start wearing black make-up.  This is the uniform, if you will, for the modern day oppressed suburban children.

You see back in the day parents didn't have things like more than 1 TV or handheld gaming systems, to avoid every single battle.  So parents would have to deal with it.  It's hard to ignore a tantrum being thrown on gameday right in front of the TV, when it's your only TV.  Quick solution: Whoopin, they won't cry for too long.

And that is why I'm King.  I call it the care factor.  They care to win every little battle.  I win by not caring about each little battle.  No matter what the outcome is I'll always be sure to explain why I've won...