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Oscar Nominated Children, Douchebaggery, and the Thoughts of a Protective Uncle

There is a lot of talk right now about Seth MacFarlane and The Onion. Last night both made inappropriate jokes about a nine year-old girl. I’m not a father. I don’t have kids. The closest I can come to knowing what it’s like to being in the position of protecting a child is as an uncle.

I like to think I’m a damn good uncle.

I have to admit that I enjoy blue humor. I’m not here to judge anyone’s laughs. Giggle away at whatever makes you giggle. Everyone should have that right. I’m convinced that is the true meaning behind the first amendment. You have a right to be a scumbag.

I also enjoy that right.

I didn’t watch the Oscar’s. So, I guess I can’t comment on Seth MacFarlane. I was on Twitter. I did see the tweet by The Onion.

Normally, I don’t feel compelled to fight someone’s battles for them. I generally assume that the women I know can shank you themselves if they feel the need, and for some reason, this kind of situation doesn’t come up with men very often.

I do have three nieces. The oldest is ten. So, maybe I have a protective uncle instinct. Maybe seeing someone call a nine year-old a cunt flipped a switch in my head.

I might never know for sure. I’m not a psychologist.

But it triggered an instinct, a violent instinct.

In an ideal world, none of us would be the kind of douche that felt the need to make crass or inappropriate jokes. Unfortunately, as long as I’m alive, no one lives in that world. I’m a horrible person.

So, until I die, and all other douche bags with me, I propose that we should at least contain our douchebaggery to people old enough to rent a car. In my neck of the wood that means 25. Feel free to say anything you want about people over 25. If they feel the need to beat you with a sock full of AAA batteries, they can. That’ll be their call.

If, for some reason you don’t think you can refrain from using horrible language to describe children, well…

Don’t be surprised if you get spit on by a bearded fat man from Kansas City.

Published by M.A. Brotherton

M.A. Brotherton is a writer, blogger, artist, and fat-kid from the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri. He’s tasted a little bit of everything the Midwest has to offer, ranging from meth-tweaking rednecks in massive underground cave complexes to those legendary amber waves of grain. When he’s not writing, he spends most of his time screwing around on the internet.