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revolutionary

When I was eighteen, I got my tongue pierced.

My friends and I, on the last day of senior week at the beach, decided we’d all get something pierced and I went with the tongue.

I decided on the tongue because it felt Rebellious and it was Something For The Ladies – if you know what I mean.

If you don’t, that’s fine too, because I have no idea either.

I had that stupid piece of metal in my mouth for about six years, mainly because I forgot about it being in there.  Eventually I took it out because it was stupid and it didn’t make me a rebel like Che and it was Time To Grow Up.

How fucking dumb is it to get something pierced as a way to be rebellious?

I remember when I got it I was thinking, “I won’t conform to this society!  I won’t do it!”  And then I went into my room, wrote shitty poems and listened to The Toadies.

When I have a son and he decides that he wants to Rebel Against The Man, I’m not going to let him do something stupid like I did.

Son: [Approaching me in my Man Room] “Dad, I’ve been thinking, I’m gonna get my eyebrow pierced.”

Me: [Still watching the game] “Oh yeah?  Why would you do something dumb like that?”

Son: [Getting the disapproval he wanted, and now excited] “Because I want to, okay?  Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean I don’t!”

Me: [Commercial is on, so I look up] “Look.  If you want to be rebellious, do something truly different.  Don’t do so many drugs that you forget what you ate for breakfast.  Maybe even get a career that doesn’t make you want to punch yourself in the skull from nine to five everyday – that’s rebellious.  Not getting a piece of metal stuck through your face like some idiot.”

Son: [Shocked and unsure what to say]

Me: [The game is back on] “Good talk dude.  Let’s play some pool when the game’s over.”

World’s Number One Dad?

Fucking right.

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