Discipline-shy pussy parents: a cautionary tale

This thread on bratfree may help breeders who may actually be PNB’s, but are fucked by today’s convoluted standards of child rearing. Nullipar-tay’s lifeguard job experience not only re-confirmed her decision on being CF, but I hope all you PNB’s in the same situation as rich moo help you understand that we CF aren’t evil, but want you to admit your humanity. And by that I mean being a parent doesn’t make you royalty, nor does it transform you into a Marvel superhero. Please help us help you.

Many years ago, I was a lifeguard at a public community center. I was the only adult lifeguard they had, so I ended up working during school hours. Homeschooling families would bring their kids in, especially in the winter when we’d cover the pool area with a ‘bubble’, making it indoors for the season..

Our community center was old, built in a poor community that got annexed by a very prestigious nearby city with their own PGA golf course next door. They had their own high-priced, snooty club for these stuck up famblees and their brats. But when moos got tired of the crowd, they’d come to our community center and ‘slum it’.

And I had one family I loathed with every bone in my body. I called them TSM’s – The Screaming Meanies. It was bleach-blonde, still trying to look 20 (and failing) moo, and her four trophies: a newly shat loaf (name unknown), a boy brat, James, (7?) and my least favorites, the two sisters: Madeline (4) and Caroline (6).

These were, to date, some of the worst behaved fucking children I’d ever had to deal with. The nightmare routine played out all spring and summer long. TSM Moo and her shitlings would come early, dragging in a sack of kinderspullen (and in the summer, we hardly had room for the visitors, much less toys), and the fighting would start immediately.

Moo would sometimes offer a weak, “James, stop. Madeline, stop.” But these fucking hellions (loaf excepted – it was usually pretty chill and locked into its carrier) infuriated me. They’d run around the edge of the pool, chasing each other, ignoring us when we’d whistle or tell them to stop. They couldn’t swim, but liked to haul ass down near the deep end of the pool.

Our pool was only 5.5 feet deep, and not olympic-sized. Not a huge pool. But James liked to try to knock or shove his sisters into the water, usually while mom was asleep working on her tan, or on her cellphone, turned away from where she should be watching them.

The lifeguard staff was forever shooting daggers at the entire family, or trying to keep the brats in line so nobody got hurt. I kept waiting for an accident to happen, but it never did. These kids often fought, violently, hitting, kicking, and spitting at each other.

And they did it to Moo, too. They’d kick her, hit her, spit on her or bite her on the few occasions where she’d actually try to discipline them. It was clearly too little, too late. She didn’t even bother anymore. Madeline was an ugly, nasty little troll of a she-brat, and she screamed and cried at the tops of her lungs whenever she wasn’t getting what she wanted (which was often). She had just the right pitch to make your brains scramble.

Caroline was a mean she-brat, who openly pointed at and made fun of overweight people, bullied her sister, and taunted her mom by purposefully doing the opposite of what her mom said, then sticking out her tongue and running away. Moo was in no shape to chase her.

James was a pint-sized tyrant who liked to get violent. Period. He was into pummeling his sisters, but would actually whine and cry whenever they attempted to defend themselves or reciprocate. Even when other families would stop and glare at Moo and her family from hell, she completely ignored them. She also ignored her kids during their screaming, wailing, violence, and dangerous antics. Like I said, hell on EARTH.

Winter came one year, and nobody was coming to the pool much, even though it was covered. I sat up on the lifeguard stand alone for hours, sometimes. But one day… to my horror and surprise… TSM fam comes dragging into the bubble, just as they had all summer long. I was alone with them. No other lifeguards or staff were anywhere near the structure. It was just me, and the family from hell.

They got into the area, plopped onto some deck chairs, and immediately, the kids started fighting. They were in the chairs behind me, behind my stand, so at least I could look forward at the pool and pretend not to see them. Sound really carries under that bubble, and Madeline was screaming bloody murder over something, and James was beating up on Caroline.

Moo was frustrated and sighing, weakly trying to tell them to stop. The kids hadn’t even gotten fully unpacked when the punching, kicking and wailing was in full force. I could see enough from the corner of my eye, and I did look over at Moo wearily, with a “really?” expression.

Moo threatened to take them all home, and the kids went running down to the far end of the pool area, near the deep end, of course. There, they carried on as per usual, cackling, fighting, crying and screaming. James and Caroline finally decided to swim, and they came back to the shallow end and got into the water.

Where they started fighting in the goddamned pool. I blew the whistle on them and told them ‘no way’. They got bored swimming soon after, and started running around the pool deck again and spitting at each other. Madeline ran after them, wailing because she wasn’t getting attention.

Moo was actually yelling at them, threatening them… Caroline stuck out her tongue, and they all went back to roughhousing. I wanted to nuke them all from orbit. The noise had reached a crescendo, they had started slapping each other, and Moo was still standing just behind my stand with loaf. She was close enough to me, that I could see that she was trying not to cry. Without thinking, I said to her quietly, “I would have gone insane by now.”

Moo was still trying not to cry. “I…I can’t get them to behave. No matter what I do… and in places like this, you can’t really punish them without someone reporting you to child services.” I knew what she really meant. Slowly, I turned around in my stand to look down to her. I removed my glasses, and said, dead-on: “…I don’t see anyone else here, and I’m certainly not going to say a word.”

Moo’s face went slack. She blinked at me, and nodded, almost in a trance. It wasn’t even 60 seconds before she was striding down the deck. That woman snatched James’ arm, jerking him towards her, and she lit his ass UP. The looks on the faces of all three brats was EPIC.

Their eyes were as wide as saucers, stunned, and after she beat James’ ass so hard the blows were echoing, she heaved him into a chair, and snapped up Caroline’s wrist. The girl was too shocked to think to move, and mom had her screaming from the ass whooping in two blows. Madeline saw what was coming and RAN, crying in terror. But Moo actually overtook her stumpy legs, and dragged the blonde brat across her knees in a chair, wailing on her ass as well.

“Now we’re going home!” Moo barked at them. “Pack your damn toys. NOW.” And the kids, all three crying, packed up the kinderspullen and started limping off to the bubble exit. The Moo walked over to pick up the carrier with the loaf, looked at me, and nodded. She didn’t come back on any of my shifts ever again.

For shmeiliarockie…

In case you don’t know who shmeilirockie is go here: http://www.youtube.com/user/shmeiliarockie.

Shmeiliarockie did this brilliant in-depth analysis serial on Twilight entitled, You Are Bella. I’m not quite sure if she’s finished, but her latest post was two days ago, and she looks much better from her last post after the New Moan premiere. Believe me, it’s okay to hit a wall. It’s okay to get frustrated. As someone who has suffered from depression since childhood, I completely empathize with you. Writers are complicated people (I’m one too- in theory at least), but take comfort Stefenie Meyer isn’t complicated. Know why? She isn’t a real writer. She’s a fanfic writer who got extraordinarily lucky, at the right time. Jealous of her financial success? Perfectly normal, especially during these hard times when college grads and students (even drop-outs like me) are wading through a hazy fog, that, according to the Fox Noise Channel, doesn’t really exist.

First off, you hit the stake directly on head stating Twatlight’s success resulted from a financial decision. Every anti and intelligent person knows this. Look at the trends in entertainment today: reality TV is a booming phenomenon. Musicians are prefabricated corporate packages- the Disney teen pop “artists” have an international following, regardless of language or region, the “artists” are carbon copies of one another. Greed is good (subprime mortgage crisis). Instant gratification is necessary (global credit crunch). Updating outdated (and just plain wrong) material is the norm: cover songs, prequels, sequels, and TV/book/game adaptations (this includes AvatarPocahontas with blue people and and smatter of clever CGI). This kills two birds with one stone: 1) hiring writers and directors who will demand all sorts of crazy things (union rights, correct pay, insurance, etc.) and 2) it saves studios money! They already own the rights to the shit and royalties are negotiable. If not, they get dropped (in the case of DVDs: 6 eps. of Scooby Doo, the entire series of Happy Days, the pop/rock soundtrack of Knight Rider, 21 Jump Street, the complete omission of the In Living Color musical parodies, and Quantum Leap just to name a few). Even though logic dictates that fans will be furious and a backlash is probable. Actually, the backlash happened.

But the studios are willing to endure the backlash, despite the fact that DVD sales are becoming their bread and butter. Flexing their muscles is more important than listening to the demands of striking writers.

You also address in YAB that as a fanfic writer and reader the most popular fics are Mary Sues, they get the most reviews and most hits. Mosey over to Fanfiction.net and- for example- click on “Movies”, then scroll down to Miracle. This post-Olys/pre-NHL lock-out ’04 Disney hit based on the Miracle on Ice USA hockey team gold medal victory over the USSR has a nice collection of fics (65 I think- but if you do an independent search there’s roughly 60 more under “Misc. Movies”). So why would a live-action Disney flick have a following like this? Well, it was well written and directed, it starred an A-list actor, and the hockey team was cast with very hot guys who were real hockey players (with the exception of Eddie Cahill). There are fics being written about them today, because the young actors got very little screen time (fuck you Gavin O’Connor). The most popular fics contain Mary Sue heroines that are either one of four things: 1) daughter/stepdaughter/niece/granddaughter of Herb Brooks, Craig Patrick, or Doc Nagobads. 2) A U of M or BU co-ed who gets a job working for the team. 3) A relation (or someone with a relationship) with a Midwest hockey player falls for an East coast hockey player (or vice-versa) playing to the team’s legendary regional rivalry . Or 4) a Russian girl who has a relationship to the Russian hockey team but falls for one of the American players.

What are wrong with these characters? Nothing, intrinsically at least. The fics are very creative, but are poorly researched, poorly edited, and the characters have unbelievable and often tragic backgrounds to provide magnetism and chemistry between them and the hockey player of their choice. But it parlays right to the fangirls. A particularly horrific example is Broken Shards Of Time And Space.

But this is all academic accounting, of course bullfuck like this will be a blockbuster. But here are a few tidbits you might not know about Meyer:

1) Thirty-five agents rejected her before the viper known as Jodi Reamer gave her “manuscript” the gold stamp of merchandising approval.

2) Meyer’s publisher Little, Brown & Co. is owned by Hachette, a French media group (multinational now). They bought LBC in ’06 after they bought out Time Warner Book Group (its original owner), making it the second largest publisher in the world. Why did this happen? Well at the time Time Warner was making a fuckload of bad business decisions. After 9/11 and the Dot.com bust, Time Warner reported a $99 billion dollar loss in ’02. There was also a four year recession (hitting NY pretty hard where Time Warner HQ happens to be located) from 2000-’03. So if my timeline is correct Meyer had to have completed the MS for Twatlight around ’03 (which took 2 months according to her), then found Reamer who shopped it around to different houses eventually landing in LBC which is probably ’04. Now Time Warner has suffered tremendous losses, and its sending out memos to its subsidiaries to buy anything that looks remotely lucrative. LBC isn’t stupid, they know (in the middle of the Harry Potter craze) that trends are shifting, life is getting harder. Escapism is more important than ever. We had a tyrannical president. The war is never ending. People are losing their jobs. Others are getting crazy rich really fast. And the sales of actual copies of books is chicken feed compared to merchandising. They know Twatlight is crap, but it’s the glitzy, pretty people that make emo fangirls (and lonely cougars) swallow it whole. It’s sort of like cutting into a cake with fluffy, sugar-crystallized pink frosting, but instead of lifting out a slice of the richest, thickest devil’s food cake you’d ever seen… it’s nothing more than a cardboard box. A prop, just like Meyer mentions so many goddamn times! Twatlight hits shelves fall of ’05.

So let’s recap: 1) Meyer is a fraud. 2) Creativity is in the toilet. 3) Vapidness is an infectious disease. Case in point: Sharon Lathan. Lathan is a cancer to Pride and Prejudice. There’s little difference between Lathan and Meyer- save one thing: Lathan’s first book was a fanfic. Lathan is a 50-something RN who went to see the ’05 film adaptation of P&P starring Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFayden. She admitted that she never read an Austen novel. She admitted that she knew nothing about the Regency era. And finally she admitted she didn’t know what P&P was about. What she did know was that Knightley and MacFayden were extremely sexy actors. Well I’ll give her that, one of the requirements to be an actor is to be sexy.

So she went home and pounded out a 54-chapter drivel fest of PG-13 porno entitled, Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One. I assume she put it up on FF.net and it had such a following she decided to hawk it on her own via POD (that’s publishing on demand- a scam). I found an original .pdf copy of the drivel on 4shared.com. If you’re masochistic or curious go there and you’ll find it- DON’T spend the money! Sourcebooks, Inc. (a so-called “independent” publisher) swotted her up and her shitpile went to print on ’09. It was so successful, it spawned two sequels: Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley and My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey Into Love Everlasting. I didn’t read the other two books (I’m not crazy) BUT honest reviewers confirmed that the timeline was about one year, their fist child was born at the end of the last book, and there was NO character development for the mains.

Sound familiar? No, you’re not seeing things. It’s reality.

Here’s another thing you need to see: AVOID PUBLISHING/PRINT ON DEMAND!! POD is nothing more than taking your unedited, unpolished, unspellchecked manuscript to Kinko’s and printing out several thousand pages for a bunch of copies that could be bound by any print shop. These subsidiaries who may or may not work for legit publishing houses ensure that the author is nothing more than a glorified secretary, in a pool of thousands. The author, in essence, works for the POD company, getting paid staggeringly little for their “creations”. Whatever they sell, they make. It’s like being a telemarketer; you are your own agent, editor, and publicist. As soon as you give your credit card number to pay for printing (a set number of copies of books that will realistically never get beyond friends and family), you have bought a golden ticket to complete creative autonomy on your literary journey!

And pigs will fly.

Unless you are a phenom of a salesperson, POD is a scam. Roughly 20 out of the thousands of POD books that flood the internet get picked up for legit publishing. Zane and Christopher Paolini are often touted as POD champions, the truth of the matter is they got lucky. Zane’s erotica which is targeted to black women met her forum at the right time when black literature was being brought into the mainstream thanks to hip hop being popular with white people. Paolini’s parents were footing the bill for the Eragon printing when the Harry Potter hurricane hit the country. And the rest is history.

And finally to close my rant: how to get published.

I was on my way back from Queens when I met author Christina Britton Conroy (One Man’s Music). I pulled out my copy of Mark Bowden’s Guests of the Ayatollah (this is also being optioned for the big screen like BHD and Killing Pablo) when this petite blonde woman turned around and offered me a bookmark advertising her book. She was sweet and engaging, but what really made me strike up a conversation was that she commented that I was the first person she saw reading a real book all day. So I sucked it up and had to ask her:

“How’d you do it?”

And she said:

“Twenty years, 2 agents, and enough rejection letters to wallpaper my apartment.”

But what truly made me respect her was that she was an editor for a publishing house where the Twatlight MS landed in her office. She called it “charming crap”.

So shmeiliarockie, don’t burn your ass out on the corporate crap NaNoWriMo. It’ll get you nowhere. I tried something similar at Lulu.com, and got told my MS for my helium-filled romance/sex-comedy, Forbidden Fruit was sure-fire publishing material I was ecstatic! Then I put it up on fictionpress.org (FF.net’s original fiction wing) and my beta told me it was a sucky, but good first try at an MS. It was actually my second. My first dark erotic anime-inspired drama, The Glass Coffin, was brushed off by a professional editor who I got in contact with through a professor I befriended. I still have her rejection letter: “You got talent… blah-blah… reminds me of X-Men… blah-blah… sorry kid, you’re just not marketable…”

So now it’s Canada or bust! The lit agents are fewer, the competition’s tougher, but I’m not stressing for a change. Why you ask? Well when it comes to manga-inspired-over-the-top-romantic-dramedy set in a fictional university surrounding its loser, egotistical jerkoff hockey team, I’m actually having fun. Now all I need is to talk to some college hockey players to get the NCAA technobabble straight and I’ll really be set!

Keep your stick on the ice… then bash some Twifucks with it!

P.S. I’ll still be going back to school so I can get a day job. But I have  no intention of paying back the loan if I can’t get a proper one.