Being A Princess Is No Picnic

“I stopped behind a soccer mom type vehicle. On the left side of the rear window there was some kind of sticker about gymnastics with ‘Courtney’ under it and on the opposite corner was a cheerleader megaphone with ‘Jennifer’ under it. When we are growing up, Mom, especially, is there to make sure that the whole world seems to have been made for us. Dad and the school and whom ever else gets paid for doing so, all pitch in support. Then one day you can buy liquor and everything changes. At that point, Mom and Dad will want little Jennifer and Courtney off the tit and married. A passel (if they are lucky) of young men will want on the tit without getting married. Mother nature (on the guys side as usual) will want them pregnant, married or not, and the free market economy will want them on an endless economic treadmill that leads to dropping dead, where they will make their final contribution as consumers at the funeral home. Some things would like to kill and eat them, other things would like to infect them, while most things, including the universe at large, could not care less whether they exist or not. I suppose that is the reason that they set the drinking age where they do.” By James, The Bruce.