I haven't really realized how much parents lie to their children until recently. They preach not to lie, yet lying almost becomes essential for effective parenting. "Hey little Timmy, drink your milk if you want to grow up big and strong"- LIE! "Hey little Johnny, touching yourself at night will make you go blind"- LIE! They're so used to lying, that they don't even realize they're doing it anymore. Well, at 20 years old, I'm no longer "little Timmy." At 20 years old, "little Johnny" goes by another name. And at 20 years old, I can proudly and confidently inform the public of the lies told to us when we were just "little tots" to keep us all in check
"I'm Officer Friendly"-NO YOU'RE NOT!!
I just recently found out that I can't trust police officers. They lie just as much as our parents. If I want to have my parents arrested for lying, who am I going to go to? I can't go to police officers, for they're in on their conspiracy as well. I recently found out that the policemen and women who visited our elementary schools weren't really named Officer Friendly. I had always thought that it was just coincidence that:
- there was more than one Officer Friendly in a town
- he/she was an officer
- he/she was friendly
It never struck me as being unusual. After all, I trusted the people involved in this elaborate lie/scheme to keep us "youngins" tranquil and rebellion-free. I trusted the teachers who introduced Officer Friendly to us cute children at the, what I once thought was great, . I trusted my parents who asked, "How was Officer Friendly today?" And most importantly, I trusted the Officer with the gun and 90s-styled mustache who asked us rhetorically "Who here knows what Officer Friendly does for a living?" He had the nerve to walk into our elementary school, use all of our facilities, and then use his false name in the THIRD PERSON! Calling himself "Officer Friendly" was like second nature to him. What else are our cops hiding?! Do they have alias names while they smuggle cocaine over the border?! Do they seduce children in chat rooms under the screen name "OrificerFriendly69"? WHAT WAS OFFICER FRIENDLY'S REAL NAME? JOHN SMITH?? OSAMA BIN LADEN??? HOW MANY CONSECUTIVE QUESTIONS CAN I ASK IN A SINGLE ARTICLE?!? Adults use this Officer Friendly lie so liberally that they've grown unaware of how it has affected our youth. Millions across feel the need to establish support groups to direct their feelings of betrayal. But since it's superfluous and redundant to form a group called Officer Friendly Anonymous, let's just avoid all this and stop the bullshit
"When I was younger, I had to walk 8 miles to school over a mountain top, through a treacherous swamp and in the thick of our nation's greatest blizzard "-NO YOU DIDN'T!!
Dad, Grandma told me stories about how you were too afraid to walk to school by yourself, and that you made her drive you/not leave until you entered the classroom safely. Mom, you lived next door to the school. You could literally hear the school bell from your bathroom. So where do these lies, damn lies spawn from? Maybe these stories were true in the 18 century, but our parents grew up in the 60s and 70s. The scariest things they may have encountered were drugged-up hippies and maybe a Flock of Seagulls. Yet, for some reason, they felt the need to embellish their school day adventures for one crude and corrupt reason-guilt. They wanted to guilt us innocent, wide-eyed kids into feeling bad about asking for the occasional ride. And it worked. For as long as I can remember, I actually walked to school through monsoon downpours, nuclear warfare and the apocalypse because I felt bad that I parents had to once do it as well. That day it was raining comets, I didn't dare ask for a quick ride to the front door of my schoolhouse I dealt with it the same way my parents did decades ago. And it never struck me as being odd that my Dad had to one time fight off mountain lions on his climb over the to get to school. It seemed normal because at the lunch table, other kids shared similar stories about their parents' life-threatening encounters on their ways to kindergarten. At one point I even asked my principal if it's possible that all our parents accidentally ran into one another on their swims across the . But she gave me a lollipop followed by an injection of some green goo before she could answer my question. Bottom line: we were lied to, my humble peers. And I feel as used as that rusty paperclip my mother found and bent to form a rocket ship to overcome aliens and make it in time for her subtraction test.
"Stop, drop and roll."-THIS WON'T SAVE YOU!!
I remember in school when we were taught to "stop, drop and roll" if ever on fire. We lined up in the gym, and one-by-one we pretended we were on fire as we stopped, dropped and rolled on a mat on the floor. We looked like idiots, but we didn't care, because we now had a surefire way (no pun intended) of protecting ourselves from burning to death. Yeah, f******, right. We were eight and nine-years old. We take one accidental sip of regular Coca-Cola and we're bouncing off the walls for three straight hours. Do you really think that if our clothes caught on fire, we would remain calm, think for a second about what we learned in grammar school, get on the floor, and then roll until our third degree burns magically disappeared and our bubbling welts turned into Skittles??? NO! We would run and scream, "HELP! I'M ON FIRE! I'M ON FUCKING FIRE!" We would swear our bloody asses off. We were told not to swear under any circumstance by our teachers and parents, but fuck it! I'm burning! And they're also the ones who convinced us that when on fire, we should take Snoop Dogg's approach and stop, "drop it like it's hot," and roll. There's no way that's happening. Next time I catch on fire, I'm not putting my life on the line and listening to a guy who's known for lighting up.' I'm running to the nearest bathtub before my ass cheeks melt together. The whole "stop, drop and roll" fiasco was a ploy to humiliate us innocent children and reestablish the power adults get when they lie and influence our decisions. But I guess it's partially my fault too-for I should have picked up on all the horseshit when the guy who taught us this fire safety method referred to himself as Fireman Friendly