We get us a big group of guys and we go down to the hardware store and we make a big show out of scooping up clumps of the loose screws and filling up our mouths with them and spending too much time loitering in the candy aisle. And smarting off to the manager and making a whole big scene out of it and then telling the cop that the guy came over in an aggressive manner and tried to lift up our shirts and get a look at ourselves against our will.

Now this group of guys don't mean no harm, Officer. Most of them spend their time down the hall all day, separate from the rest. They just don't got no one to understand them. It affected their upbringing. It made them get those swollen legs your partner was pointing at with his stick. These guys can't help that. Science can't help either. It just tastes like poison to them. Written down poison.

Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.

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