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My son came home from college. He spread his wings. The is good but very confusing to his parents.
My son came home from college. He spread his wings. The is good but very confusing to his parents.
The speaker, Mr. O, talks about his son's mysterious presence at home and his attempts to disguise himself. He also discusses his son's choice of Impossible Burgers, which he finds unappetizing. The speaker then recounts a family discussion about whether water is wet, which he finds pointless. He mentions his son's class on righteous indignation and his strong aversion to pineapple on pizza. Finally, he mentions his son's collection of wasp plushies and his plan to sell them on eBay. Mr. O concludes by encouraging listeners to subscribe to his podcast. Hi, and welcome to Mr. O's Sideway View, a blog and podcast dedicated to all those folks who aren't me. And I've noticed a surprisingly large number of people who aren't. Hmm. Anyway, I'm Mr. O, and it's time to take another Sideway View in our crazy world. Two weeks ago, my son came home from college. At least I think he did. Not because I've actually seen him, but more for the scientific evidence he leaves behind. For instance, I went out for donuts on Sunday. I always get too jelly-filled for a mid-morning snack. This week, the jellies mysteriously vanished. He and I are the only ones who liked them, so I hypothesize he must be around someplace. Also, my car has disappeared. Most folks would call the cops and report it stolen. Me? I just wait a little while. If it comes back and goes away again, it's probably him. Of course, it could be haunted. I never want to exclude the supernatural in my conclusions. But when the supernatural coincides with a sudden uptick in laundry, well, let's just say the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming. So, as he must be here someplace, last week I made it my job to actually find him and see how he was. Well, he was. Or is, as the case may be. He is now six inches taller than me with a beard and blue hair. None of these things actually bother me, except for the fact that he feels he's trying to disguise himself so I don't recognize him. Was I that bad of a father, or has he just been placed in the Witness Protection Program? These questions have to be asked. Of course, they can't be asked. What I'm supposed to say is, Hey, you look great. This just picks him off. It's almost as if he wants to annoy me by his looks. And when I don't respond, he gets mad. So either he's annoyed, or I am. Well, I pick him. Because of all this and more, I have come to the conclusion that colleges are not what you think they are. Sure, you might learn how to date fossils. Assuming those fossils aren't homebodies and like to sit around the house instead of going out for a date. But I'm more inclined to believe universities are there explicitly to teach the next generation how to irritate their parents. The thing is, they really don't need this. My son was perfectly capable of infuriating me before he left for school, although I do admit he's gotten a lot better. For one thing, he has always loved a good greasy cheeseburger with all the fixins. Once I discovered he was actually at home, I offered to make him one for dinner. He agreed and went to the store for the stuff. He came home with something called Impossible Burgers. Apparently, these are made of soy meal, but they look, taste, and grill just like hamburgers for only five times the price. When I saw them, my jaw hit the floor. I told him I knew of something which was very similar, but less money, hamburgers. He said these would make me feel better about myself. I want you all to know I honestly tried. I put one on the grill. It fell apart and burned almost before it was defrosted. He mentioned I should expect a little difference in cooking temps. However, it said on the box, cooks just like a hamburger, although your experience may vary. Then I tasted it. I don't know who they asked, but it tasted like no hamburger I ever tried. Maybe after you slathered it in ketchup, mustard, six other dressings, pickles, relish, and a whole lot of praying, you might get close. Otherwise, no. Again, my experience varied from theirs. Look, I'm not judging anyone. If you don't want to eat beef, don't. But also, don't taunt yourself by trying to make plants taste like beef. It's just bad all around. After dinner, we sat around and had a family discussion. This should have been fun, a time to catch up and find out what was going on with each other. Again, I was left in a lurch. My intelligent, college-attending son suggested the topic of, is water wet? What? I got a better question. Who cares? He put forth, uh, since the definition of wet is covered in water, then it's not wet. Then, the water itself is not wet. My older son, along with my wife, countered that every molecule of water is surrounded by other molecules of water. Therefore, water is wet, due to the fact that it bonds to itself. My three children, two of their significant others, and my one wife debated this for the next hour and a half. I chose to pick up the cat and be scratched bloody several times. It was the less painful option. And there's the attitude he came home with that baffles the snot out of me. That being said, I would really love to audit his Righteous Indignation 101 class. This would have been a whole bunch of fun, and interesting as heck. I mean, not only do they get into the nitty-gritty of the subject, but he learned to object to things even when they don't exist. That's a real skill. Not worth anything, but a real skill. A textbook example happened the other day. I went to the family and asked what they wanted on their pizza. My wife, older son, and daughter all answered quickly and concisely. My college son insisted there be no pineapple. Now, pineapple was never suggested by anyone, so I agreed immediately, without argument. This was the incorrect response. I'm not sure what he wanted. Perhaps he was looking for someone to share his fury. Who knows? What I do know is that he went into a tirade, decrying the very existence of pineapple on pizza. He insisted it should be outlawed. Nay, not outlawed. Pineapple on pizza should be made a capital crime. This started an entirely new series of arguments as to whether capital punishment should exist for other crimes, or just for destroying the dignity of a once-glorious pizza with pineapple. Frankly, I've had pineapple on pizza. I can take it or leave it. Either way, I stood there for 20 minutes with pen and paper in hand, waiting for him to finish. I really wanted to learn what he actually wanted. After he calmed, I asked again. He announced, I don't care. I'm going out with friends. I won't be home for dinner. Now he tells me, Couldn't he have mentioned that earlier? Heck, the pizza could have been delivered in the time he was screaming about it. This kind of outrage does not come naturally. He had to have taken a class. Truly, with a performance like that one, he may even have taken private lessons. Lastly, there's plushy animals. Yes, I believe everyone should have a teddy bear of some sort as a kid. I also see that a cute plush makes an attractive decoration. Well, his school's mascot is some kind of a wasp. He brought home 337 wasp plushies in various poses. Then he announces he's changing schools next year, and he can't take them with him when he leaves in the fall. What the heck am I going to do with them? Hey, eBay, here I come! Thanks for listening, and I hope you laughed a lot. Stop by anytime. Open 24-7 for your smiling convenience. If you liked it, push like, or share it with a friend. If you missed an episode, you can hear Mr. O on Apple Podcast, Google Play Music, and Spotify. Remember to subscribe so you won't miss it again. If you'd like, you can send me an email at osidewaysviewatgmail.com. That's O-H-H-S sidewaysviewatgmail.com. And remember what I always say, laugh now. You can be crabby anytime.