That's how the short-term financial future feels during -- and before -- and especially after -- the harrowing experience of back-to-school shopping. Get caught up on a series of medical
extortions bills, liquor cabinet replenishments various car repairs and the utilities -- from the past nine winters -- and then this annual torment. Never fucking fails.
"Well, you little bastards won't stop growing, so in addition to outfitting you in a swanky new wardrobe every August while poor ole dad is stuck with his closetful of ragged, moth-eaten t-shirts -- no it's not by choice, I'm very fashionable and you know it -- they didn't change the dress code again, did they, 'cause I'm not taking all this shit back -- I have to continue feeding you. It's a law or something, and unlike the President, I follow the law.
Here's a loaf of bread. No, it's white, organic whole wheat's too expensive. No, that's not it for dinner. There's butter in the fridge. Toss some PB&J on it if you want. Fine, have cereal. Just enough milk for one of you? Flip a goddamn coin, Texas steel cage match, I don't care.
Whaddya mean each student has to bring in an additional pack of pencils? Popsicle sticks just don't hold the same constructive charm? What the hell is your class going to do with 60 boxes of tissue? Contract the Black Death? The teachers are collecting the red pens? Why don't they buy their own fucking pens?"
At least our high schooler doesn't show any inclination like some of these kids do towards dressing up as if employed by the Vegas "burlesque" shows Republicans enjoy railing against in the presence of their constituents before they slink away to spend thousands at those same businesses in anticipation of railing against them once more when the cameras are rolling. I knew we were good parents. Must've been all that death metal and commie propaganda I made them listen to growing up while mom and dad were holed up watching "burlesque" shows in our bedroom.