I Don’t Have Trouble With Authority, You Do.
ThunderPuff
4K36

My parents offered me successively lavish bribes for learning the multiplication tables. I especially rejected 7 × 8, because it relied on rote memorization. By the end of eighth grade they gave up. I had a slide rule to jog my memory.


An uncaring world refuses to accept the quiet satisfaction in eating your own boogers. (In strict moderation, I never ate anyone else’s.) It’s arrant hypocrisy.


They no longer have tire swings or monkey bars at recess. I think they encourage breaking up into small discussion groups instead.


Holiday bizarre expresses what had been inexpressible. Thank you.


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