Today’s post is by Wendell Wilkie High School’s perennial sophomore, Bubby Spamden.

Hi Mr. C.,

Boy am I lucky to still be a high school sophomore in 2012! We have SO MANY cool media resources.

Mr. Boozenporn assigned us to watch the Obama – Romney debate last night. We’re supposed to be able to stand up in class today, give an opinion on who did better, and defend it. When a bunch of people in the class protested that we don’t have the time or the attention span, Mr. B. said “too bad” and that we “had Nixon to thank.”

What does Cynthia Nixon have to do with this?

So the TV was turned on in my room, but I kinda got wrapped up playing Halo 3 with my buddy Doug, and before I new it, the credits were rolling and I had beaten Doug but I had also missed the whole debate!

No problem, I thought. They always have experts gassing on about stuff afterwards, so I’ll just watch that and figure out what happened. After about 40 minutes, this is what I had learned –

Obama and Romney both absolutely rocked the debate, and each of them were totally humiliated. After this, it’s hardly worth it to go to the trouble to vote because the contest has already been decided in favor of one of them, though I can’t remember which one it is.

Anyway, the game is over! Or else it has been changed – that much I know. Romney and Obama both spouted plenty of facts and tons of numbers that are absolutely correct and completely misleading, but we should not pay attention to that or to fact checkers because sometimes their research gets in the way of the telling made up stories about what’s going on.

Oh, and I’m pretty sure Obama got down on his knees and prayed to a photo of Lenin’s corpse before the show began, and Romney literally cooked and ate a peasant onstage! Gosh, I wish I’d seen that live!

Anyway, I’m glad I live in a country where every political thing that happens has this big crowd of people around it who will chew events over and spit them back out at you. It’s like being a baby bird – we’re always getting a steady supply of warm food, or in this case, opinions! Maybe someday we’ll be strong enough to have thoughts on my own, but for right now I’m grateful to the internet, social media, and TV. I now know everything I need to know about the first Obama – Romney debate!

My report in Mr. B’s class is going to be awesome!

Your pal,
Bubby

Ever forget to do an assignment?

Dear Dr. Babooner,

My 7 year old son Jimmy has a problematic relationship with the truth.

He simply cannot leave a fact un-tortured, particularly if it implicates him in some kind of wrongdoing. Whenever we say he has done something, Jimmy denies the charges.

But that’s not the worst of it.

He also takes facts that dispute his claims of innocence and he re-imagines them as evidence in his own defense. When we challenge this mis-interpretation of reality, Jimmy goes on the attack and then retreats to a place of victimhood, saying we don’t listen to his arguments because we’re against him.

For example, last week we docked his allowance $5 to help pay for the repair a lampshade he had damaged while playing Frisbee in the house – an activity that is strictly forbidden. Jimmy immediately went into defensive mode, claiming that we had dramatically increased his taxes.

We pointed out that we were simply asking him to pay his fair share of the cost of rectifying a bad situation that diminishes us all (the bare bulb makes the living room appear very much like a gulag), and he called us socialists who are bent on stealing his wealth so we can throw it away on overpriced furnishings.

I offered that Jimmy would have no “wealth” without us, and he became very, very upset and called us “wards of the state.” My husband almost had a stroke and said if anyone in our house was a “ward of the state,” that would be our son, since we pay for the infrastructure that supports his very survival.

Jimmy then argued that he was, in fact, a “job creator,” because by knocking over the lamp and smashing the shade, he made work for the lampshade mender, whereas we did nothing for the economy but simply “handed money out and made demands,” like a branch of government.

I have never seen my husband’s face that particular shade of crimson.

Jimmy then pointed out that the Frisbee is something he purchased with his “earnings”. If we were going insist on penalizing him for utilizing this capital expenditure, the long term effect on the economy would be dire. He would have less incentive to by more Frisbees, since we seem bent on enforcing these unenforceable rules and regulations. The only logical choice for him would be to stop all his expenditures until the uncertainty subsides.

Sigh. We caved and took on the whole cost of fixing the lampshade but I’m concerned that he’s now learned to argue his way out of a bad spot and to never, ever accept responsibility for anything.

I’m not sure if he gets these embarrassing tactics from Republicans or Democrats, but I have noticed whenever we simply assert our authority because he’s only seven and we are, in fact, “the boss of him”, he asks to see a photo ID to be sure we are not just some creative and mischievous strangers determined to cause havoc.

Dr. Babooner, I’m concerned for Jimmy’s future when I see him willfully misinterpret the truth to press his own advantage. But perhaps I’m overdoing it. He’s only 7 and there’s plenty of time for him to outgrow this contentious behavior. Isn’t there?

Sincerely,
Flummoxed in Fridley

I told Flummoxed that Jimmy could very well outgrow this fact-twisting phase, but she should hope he doesn’t! Political operatives in both parties are paid very well, and his ability to toss a fact so far away from it’s starting point that it appears to be a reverse of itself is a talent rivaling that of the greatest Olympians. Jimmy will do well in the Brave New World if he manages to keep his hubris.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden.

Hey Mr. C.,

I can’t believe it’s August already!

Pretty soon I’ll be back at Wendell Wilkie High School (again)! Being a perennial sophomore, I know the routine pretty well – a lot better than some of the teachers.

This year will be extra exciting because it’s a presidential election year, and that means we can burn up a lot of time in first hour American History class if Mr. Boozenporn sees something on the news the night before that irks him, which he almost always does.

Four years ago we spent the whole month of October talking about political ads, and I hear that this year the ads are gonna be even wackier. I was watching TV last night, looking for something I could bring up on the first day of school, when I saw an interview with this Paul Ryan guy who is going to run for vice president, I guess.

There was a whole lot of talk about budgets and numbers and stuff that makes me feel like I’ve got bees in my ears whenever I hear it, so I really don’t remember any of that. But what did get my attention was when he talked about trying to sneak out of his own house so reporters wouldn’t know he was going off to meet Mitt Romney.

Sneaking out of the house is something I think about a lot. I’m not saying I’ve done it a lot, but if Jennifer Currie asked me to hang out with her at, like, midnight … I would definitely find a way. So that part of Paul Ryan’s story really resonated for me. But he had it easy – he just walked in the front door of his house and right out the back door and through the woods and a yard on the other side, to the street where somebody picked him up!

He was kind of boasting about how clever that was, even though there wasn’t anybody actually IN the house trying to keep him from getting out, and he had a convenient forest right there to hide in and a driver to whisk him away. I wish I had just ONE of those things working for me. Anybody could sneak out under those conditions.

I’ve got all kinds of people at my house (OK, mom and dad, mostly) always asking “Where are you going?” and “What’re you doing?” Most of the time the answer is “nowhere” and “nothing”, which just seems to make them madder. And instead of having a forest right outside the back door, I’ve got to cross this wide open stretch that’s like the exercise yard at Leavenworth. There’s no grass back there, which makes it mushy after a rain. And there are motion sensitive lights and a dog next door (Buddy) who flies off the handle whenever he hears somebody on our side of the fence breathing. And then there’s the fence itself – it’s so old and rickety, I know it’s going to collapse on me someday when I’m vaulting over it, just like the pole did for that jumper guy from Cuba. And then Ryan had someone to pick him up! I’d like to see him sneak out and get where he’s going by having to “borrow” a bike from the neighbor’s garage!

But I guess that’s how it is when you get to be a Congressman (and maybe vice president) – you get to do stuff the easy way and think you’ve had a real accomplishment.

I’m not saying I’ve done any of that, by the way. But in all the times I’ve imagined meeting Jennifer Currie at midnight, that’s how I got there – tossing a steak to Buddy, crawling on my belly through the mud in the back yard, vaulting over the fence and then riding ten miles on a stolen bike.

And when I show up, all mud caked and sweaty, she’s always happy to see me. That’s how I know it didn’t really happen!

Your Pal,
Bubby

Ever sneak out of the house, or travel under cover?

Today’s post comes from Minnesota’s 9th District Congressman Loomis Beechly. He represents all the water surface area in the state.

Greetings, Constituents,

I wanted to be the first to tell you that it does not look like Mitt Romney will choose me to be his running mate in the 2012 Presidential contest. Many of you have supposed otherwise, and I’ll take that as a compliment because the alternative is simply too discouraging.

It was close, though. At least I think it was.

Although I haven’t been contacted by vetters from the campaign, I gained some legitimacy from the condition of my Wikipedia page – it’s entirely non-existent. One way to tell if a person is about to be chosen to run as vice-president is to see if their Wikipedia page has been updated recently to remove any embarrassing details just before the choice is announced. That set off a flurry of wiki-checking for the major contenders – Pawlenty, Portman, Jindal, etc. All their pages were being watched. But when I discovered that I don’t have a page on Wikipedia, I instantly became a front runner (in my mind). After all, my selection could remain a secret up to the very last moment – especially to me! That kind of organic discretion is a huge plus.

My positions on the issues also made me a likely choice, because I’m omni-political. I like a good argument, and if I REALLY like yours, I’ll just adopt it! Just like Mitt, I’ve felt a bunch of different ways about lots of things.

Also, geographical diversity gave me an edge. Mitt Romney is from Utah, a very dry state (in spite of the Great Salt Lake). I, on the other hand, represent all the water surface area in Minnesota – a perfect compliment for a presidential candidate who comes from the dusty desert. He’s dry as dirt. I’m wet as a catfish. Put us together and we make up an essential political element – just right for slinging at the opponent. And mud is also a time tested building block.

Romney-Beechly also has a good ring to it – really nice! And it’s an anagram for “Bye Melon, He Cry!” That would put us in tight with the California Honeydews – a major source of campaign funding.

But I continue to fail to appear on short OR long lists for the Vice Presidency, and my national profile is razor-thin. I’m beginning to feel a bit sad for what might have been.

But don’t get me wrong – I’m not crushed. For one thing, I’ve suspected for some time that I might be a Democrat.

Some days I feel kinda Red, and others I’m a little Blue.
It would be tough to commit to just one hue!
And now, as a non-vice presidential candidate, I won’t have to!

Once they’re on the job, Vice Presidents don’t have much of an opportunity to go in for poetry. Or fishing.

But I believe I’m off the hook. Hallelujah!

Name a job you were happy to NOT get.