An Urgent Warning To Parents.

Normally I don’t pay attention to what the “kids” are doing these days, but I have to say that lately it’s been hard to avoid all of the unsettling news surrounding the younger generations and their trends. I’ve also spent no small amount of time around young people lately, and consequently have become somewhat of an expert on the subject. You may think you know what’s going on with these people, but trust me–you have no idea.

The average adult barely has enough time to figure out what “planking” is (I’m pretty sure it involves kissing a blind-folded friend while jumping off of a pirate ship), when all of a sudden there’s things like “the Dougie” (a clearly x-rated dance move that usually results in drastic mood swings, teen pregnancy, and paralysis, though not necessarily in that order), and even something called “dabbing,” which apparently has two meanings: karate chopping your own Grandparents (often fatally) while covering your eyes to avoid witnessing the carnage, and, I kid you not, repeatedly dipping your head into a large bowl of fresh Marijuana and whole milk. Yep, you read that right: whole milk. And they do these things for fun.

In fact, it turns out that this “Marijuana” stuff is pretty much the operative factor in all of these shenanigans. Worse still, after doing a little research on the subject I’ve learned that–I hope you’re sitting down for this–this deadly scourge is actually legal in this and many other states, and as a result almost every one of our children is currently “high,” or “baked” (that’s just some of the slang meaning “drunk on Marijuana.” Others include “stoned,” “krilled,” “down-bottomed,” “tinseled,” and “gluten-free.”).
Your kids.

I know, I know. It’s all pretty scary. But before you lose all hope in the future of this once-great country, please take heart: there are still adults in charge of things, and these adults will rise to the occasion and take whatever measure necessary to stamp this horrible fad out.

One of the first things we can all do, as parents, educators, and casual observers of teenagers in malls, amusement parks, and on beaches, is to recognize the warning signs of someone who has had way too many Marijuanas, or as they say, has “overdosed.” Fortunately for me, my particular employer has provided, via an obviously well-researched and widely forwarded email on the subject, some of the things to look for.

It’s difficult to even imagine, but apparently, when a child has smoked, snorted or even injected too many Marijuanas (and yes, even two or three can be “too many”), several terrible things will almost certainly happen. So immediately dial 911 if you observe any of these common symptoms (these are straight from the email):

  • The child will NOT wake up—unconscious and unresponsive
  • Unable to stand, walk, or have control of their bodily functions
  • Uncontrollable vomiting
  • Slow/irregular breathing-gurgled sounding
  • Pale skin
  • Bluish tinge to mouth and fingernails

Not so fun now, is it, kiddos? Kind of makes you wonder why they even make Marijuana.

Additionally, and I find it difficult to even type these next words, they may experience something called “scromiting,” which my email says is “a combination of vomiting and screaming.” I know, right?!? It may seem crazy, but unfortunately the cold, hard truth is that kids these days are doing these kind of things in droves. Apparently they sometimes even “shart,” which is a similar blending of two words that, unless I’m mistaken, describes a potentially deadly game involving both “shaving” and “darts.” In rare occasions the Marijuana user has even been know to literally “scromit” while “sharting.” I dare say, your own teen is probably doing them both, and with great enthusiasm, even as I write this.

So please be vigilant. I know that some of the above information may seem far-fetched, but don’t make the mistake of ignoring the numerous warning signs of recreational Marijuana use. If we can stop the problem before it grows, then perhaps this trend can be reversed. Best to let our children remain children, doing things we know are clean, wholesome, old-fashioned fun. Things like playing stickball, asphyxiating each other against walls, or eating laundry detergent. You know, kid stuff.

Just as long as they’re not “planking.” That thing sounds dreadful.

Been away for a while…

I know that I’ve been away from this blog for some time now (like, four months!), but I can explain. Around October-ish I started a new job at a nice little Cafe here in Long Beach. Nothing big, just something to get me out of the house and away from all all those idle hours spent waiting for Spielberg to call, my screenplay to become readable or the dishes to do their damned selves. I mean, it’s not as easy as you might think getting things done when there isn’t some boss or deadline hovering over your head. You know what it’s like – you wake up feeling productive, brimming with ideas and the creative impulse. An hour later, though, and you’re back in bed with the computer on your chest, a cacophony of amateur renditions of “Barbie Girl” filling the room, and your t-shirt, face and hair bemired with the remains of the previous night’s leftovers. At least that’s the way it is for me.

Well anyway, as I was saying I wound up getting a job downtown. The hours were initially part-time, in accordance with the laws governing all jobs involving aprons and name-tags, but somewhere along the way something went wrong, and before I knew it I found myself doing the daily grind in a full-time manner. This, naturally, took a big bite out of my free time.

Not that I minded, of course; I’m as eager as the next guy to be a productive part of society – to say nothing of wanting to fulfill my role as an at least partial supporter of my family – it’s just that since removing myself from the Brobdingnagian pool of film types looking for a job in L.A, I’ve had kind of a hard time figuring out where I’d be happy working. I want to act, write, and be generally amusing, not sit at a desk going over spreadsheets and quarterly reports or whatever it is people do in offices. Is that so wrong? Add to this scenario the fact that I possess a nice, shiny, 1993-vintage bachelor’s degree in English, of all things, and you can see how the prospect of full employment in a meaningful field would prove elusive.

As it turned out, the full-time thing was really only temporary; my hours at the cafe are card-carrying members of the under-thirty demographic again, allowing me at least a couple hours a day to try to squeeze some small volume of thin, acrid juice out of the withered, dry husk of this really, really tortured metaphor of, um, creativity fruit (?) I have growing in my head.

So time to start writing! As you might imagine, tons of things have gone on in the Miller family since my last post, each episode wackier than the last and each deserving of at least 1,200 words and every imaginable sequence of punctuation devoted to its documentation. Just you wait – it’ll be grand!