Now that I’m drunk and bragging about myself, let’s bring up the day I stopped respecting my parents.

My dad’s mom died and he got emotional and mom* tried to read this insipid “Fall of Freddie the Leaf” book to me to “help me handle” DESPITE the fact that I’d been REGULARLY telling them that life and death were meaningless and to invest yourself in another mortal being was a major failing SINCE I WAS SIX.

Like dude I got it, she no longer existed and never would again, ok next slide.

I’d known they were inferior, my mom more than my dad, but I’d believed in them enough to think they could improve.

That’s it. I think I was maybe 11 or 12? My mom’s stepmom died six days later, which was funny. None of us liked her much.

Oh man and then there’s the time my mom (successfully!) convinced my dad to go into AA, which polished it off.

*on the recommendation of a public school psych! tho she was a trained assistant to america’s expert in mind control. i should ask after that.