The Over Reactive Parent

Let’s talk about a portion of the population that really gets under my skin. As a teacher and a coach, there is one thing that really gets on my nerves on an almost daily basis: the over reactive parent. Now, this vessel of anger and venom seems to exist in all aspects of my life, considering my chosen profession. But I’m going to focus on the parent that becomes way too involved at sporting events.

You’ve all seen this person: He or she is the one who constantly has to yell at the coach or the official whenever anything happens that doesn’t positively affect his or her child. For example, if said parent’s child loses a sporting event, and the ORP’s child doesn’t play, then the coach must deserve to get screamed at for not allowing ample playing time which could have resulted in a victory because Johnny All-Star would have made a dramatic impact. Surely the coach must have a personal beef with Johnny, and it has nothing to do with John’s inability to perform.

Additionally, you’ll often find this foul-mouthed buffoon screaming at officials from the sideline. “That wasn’t a strike!” “Throw the damn flag!” “Oh, come on, ref. That wasn’t even close to a foul.” These are staples at high school sporting events around the nation. Most often, these words will be spewing from the man with the cut-off shirt, or the woman with the ridiculously large buttons on her chest-her son’s picture prominently displayed on her bosom.

Whichever form this anger management dropout may take, he never follows the rules of appropriate behavior at a sporting event. My problems arise when I try to figure out just why these folks harbor the anger in which they create. Is it a lost childhood they are trying to reclaim? Perhaps it’s a spoiled sporting event from their past. I just don’t know. All I know is that I hate the idiotic tendencies that these people have, and they display nothing but poor judgment in front of their impressionable children.

Truck Nuts

Do you ever sit and wonder what the world would be like without guys who drive trucks with “truck nuts.” It’d be fucking brilliant, right? I mean, let’s think about this for a minute: These nozzles seriously think it’s a) funny, and b) cool, to hang an oversized pair of nuts from their truck’s hitch so that it looks like it has testicles. That’s fucking stupid; really stupid. Does one really think that his truck is manlier because it appears to have sperm producing appendages that merely serve an aesthetic purpose? Come on, guy. Stop it.
I guess it’s not so much the actual “nuts” hanging from the hitch that bothers me; rather, it’s the fact that all of the DBs driving these trucks look, act, sound, and seem positively the same: Shaved head? Check; dirty T, or no shirt? Check; Smokes? Check; NASCAR lover? Double-check. It’s as if some new, hillbilly god decided to start creating a race of men specifically devoted to looking like assholes.
Another confounding aspect of this inferior human’s life is the fact that he drives like he was instructed by a drunk, blind man. Sometimes I can’t tell whether or not he is really driving like shit just to be an asshole to all of the other cars around him, or if he simply can’t handle the power that his manly (according to the nuts) truck possesses. Either way, I have to hold back from tomahawking a crowbar through his window every time I am near one of these fools.
I apologize if you are someone who operates one of these macho machines; I’m sure you are a fine human being who doesn’t fit any of the aforementioned categories. I guess I just don’t understand the fascination with this practice. I don’t see any chicks throwing “bumper boobies” on their Grand-Ams. Nor do I find myself compelled to add a hood ornament that spits multiple fluids on the car in front of me four times per day.
Truck nuts are stupid, and truck nut drivers are idiots.