Tag Archives: doctor

Sunday Shocker: Lizard People In Our Midst

You cannot deny it.

The signs are everywhere.

Our lizard overlords are slipping. No longer perfectly concealed as people of power and influence, more and more REAL HUMANS are seeing the terrible truth.

The alien lizard people are here and they are in charge.

Despite so-called “denials” from, among others, the so-called “John Key, ” Prime Minister of New Zealand, we know the TRUTH.

“To the best of my knowledge, no. Having been asked that question directly, I’ve taken the unusual step of not only seeing a doctor but a vet, and both have confirmed I’m not a reptile,” a smiling Mr Key said today. “So I’m certainly not a reptile. I’ve never been in a spaceship, never been in outer space, and my tongue’s not overly long either.”

Oh “he” thinks he’s so cute, doesn’t he. But we know the TRUTH!!!!

We’ve known since 1988 and the release of vaunted freedom fighter Nada could see the aliens with special sunglasses, but we aren't that lucky. We have to discover the TRUTH on our own.John Carpenter’s “movie” They Live, A thinly veiled allegory about a secret race of aliens taking over the world. Nada, the character played by “Rowdy” Roddy Piper, could see the aliens with the aid of special sunglasses.

We don’t have that luxury in our never-ending quest to expose the Alien Lizard Men bent on conquest. We can only rely on the TRUTH to set us free!

And the TRUTH has been set free: Mr. Piper recently tweeted the TRUTH that

They Live is a documentary!!

— 
Rowdy Roddy Piper (@R_Roddy_Piper)

Nada once said: “I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. . . and I’m all out of bubblegum!”

You are on notice, Alien Lizard Overlords! We Earthicans are out of bubblegum! And your are OUT OF TIME!

No, I’m not bored. Why do you ask?


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Birthday Wishes For My Son

Today, Sarcasmo is a man.

Well, he was a man yesterday, too, but today is when it becomes official. As hard as it is to believe, my oldest little dude (who in no way can actually be considered little) turns 21 today.

I am, to put it bluntly, shocked. But only when I stop to think about it. And so I spend most of my time trying desperately not to think about said twopointone decades of parenthood that now stretches behind me.

Yikes.

Feeling the breeze blowing from the open burial pit laid out in front of me is a minor concern, though, when I call to mind the face of my oldest son, my namesake, the fifth of his name. . . Sarcasmo.*

When his mom-to-be and my wife, known to me then as She Who Must Be Sexy No Matter How Distended Is Her Belly Right Then, and I decided to bless the world with our progeny, we had no idea he’d not want to come out.

There we were, past 40 weeks and Sarcasmo-to-be seemed to have no intention of leaving where he was. Heck, he was comfortable, warm and fed where he was, so why go through the hassle of getting born?

Which meant we needed to do a little inducing so we packed up and headed to the hospital where the Motile Clone Gestation Unit was hooked up to various drug drips and monitors and we settled in to wait.

Despite a few contractions, it didn’t seem to be progressing. This being the dark ages, we couldn’t pull out a tablet and watch something good, so we had to make do with TV. Nothing good was on, so I got sent by the Motile Clone Gestation Unit to a nearby Blockbuster Video to rent a movie to watch. During labor.

Of course it was while I was at the video store that the doctors broke her water and the really painful contractions set in. I got a page (I told you it was in the dark ages) that consisted of the digitally written equivalent of “GET BACK HERE NOW! I WILL KILL YOU FOR LEAVING! GET BACK NOW! I WILL KILL YOU! I love you.”

Labor, amirite, dudes?

Even though we had a few exciting hours of contractions, eventually it leveled off and stalled. Sarcasmo-to-be really didn’t want to come out. So we were going to have to cut him out.

Dudes, let me tell you something important here. If you ever are in the operating room with your partner and child-to-be and the doctor offers for you to look over the curtain at the incision site. . . Don’t do it. Just. . . don’t.

And then the doctors told us that we had a baby boy. Our son. And placed the tiny human in our arms and I realized just exactly what real love felt like. I understood why my parents put up with my guff for all those years.

I looked into his face and understood the purpose of the universe had been to bring us all there. To that hospital. In that room. At that time. To bring into existence the reason for it all.

I met my son and all other concerns fell away.

With Sarcasmo, I learned how to be a parent. He taught me how to be a dad. How to be friendly, but still retain the authority to speak and be listened to. Even more important, he also taught me how to listen.

He was my first little dude to smile, to talk, to crawl and walk. To eat on his own. He was the first to be embarrassed by the sniffling dad in the back of the kindergarten classroom who just did not want to leave and might have had to be escorted from the room by the teacher’s helper.**

But even better than all the tiny-human firsts is the current first. He’s the first of my little dudes that I can watch become a man. He’s out on his own now, making decisions (for good and for ill) and beginning his own life, one only tangentially related to mine.

It’s hard — darn hard — to let go of the wheel that directs his life. But it’s something I’m learning from him even now.

He’s got the tools he needs to succeed and is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. And I say that as a person, not necessarily as a dad. And one of the thickest and fastest-growing beards it’s ever been my frightened privilege to watch grow.

The years between the dawn of his first night as a tiny human on the outside (when I held him up to the rising sun, proclaimed him my heir and listened to the roar of the animals***) and now have not always been easy ones. There have been times when I haven’t wanted to hear his voice and many more when, I’m sure, he thought the one thing in which I would look best would be a shallow grave.

And, yet, through all that. . . Through the screaming and the yelling. . . Through the tears and the smiles. . . I have always loved the big dude and always will.

Sarcasmo is an amazing young dude with so much promise to fulfill as he walks out into the world as a man. I’m so glad I get to be there as it happens.

Footnotes & Errata

* NO! That’s not his real name, d’uh! He’s Richard Edward Jones V, where the V stands for Roman Numeral Five, not Violet. At least as far as he knows.
** Might have. The important word in that sentence is might.
*** Although I’m not sure why there was a big orangutan there. Or animals, really. It was an. . . odd dawn. I might have been a bit punchy.

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Sunday Self-Promotion: Charlotte Parent

We’ve got a second home!

That’s right, dudes and dudettes, Barry and Richard are opening up a second home here on the internet. By which I mean that we’re not actually going anywhere, nor are we suddenly rich or anything. There’s just another place where we get to put a picture of us up an not have people wonder where in the most wanted list we’re numbered.

You might remember that we’re going to have a column in Charlotte Parent magazine every month. Well, things have changed a bit. We’re going to be in the print version of the magazine, which comes out near the end of each month, on the even months (February, April, June, August, October, December) and we’re going to have a new column on the website at least once a month on the even months.

I say at least because the fools wonderful folks at Charlotte Parent have given us the keys to the kingdom. Or at least the password to upload something to the website.

If you think we’re going to let that go by without abusing using it. . . Well, you haven’t been paying attention.

Not that we blame you, of course. We haven’t really been paying attention all that much ourselves.

In fact, we. . . we. . . Hnh.

Never mind.

Even though we’re going to be printed in the even months, we’re also going to have that column get posted on the website as well. So, if you’re ever worried about not getting enough of us here at the Dude’s Guide, don’t fret.

Although, maybe you should fret. Or see a doctor, maybe. I mean, you don’t get enough of us? There might be something wrong with you. And by might I mean there definitely is.

Moving on.

If you’re in the mood for a little fresh Dude content, you can find us on the Charlotte Parent website in the section on Charlotte Parent Blogs. We’re the Stay-At-Home Dudes column.

Come on by and leave a note. You’ll be glad you did.

Well, you’ll be glad you did that as opposed to, oh, I don’t know, maybe hitting your thumb with a hammer. Yeah, definitely more glad than doing that.

The Dude’s Guide: Better than hitting your thumb with a hammer.

I’m thinking of getting that embroidered on a mug or something.

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