About a month ago I was sick and my dad felt obligated to keep me company when I was watching an episode of "Here comes Honey boo Boo." My PseudoUncle showed up and watched part of the show with us. My dad doesn't like any television program that I like. Even if he does like a show, if he finds out that I like it, he will reverse his stance on principal alone and dislike the show simply because I like it. In the case of "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo," however, no reversing of his stance was necessary. He hated it from the very first little blurb before the episode even started, which made me love it all the more
My dad complained the entire time the show aired that everyone in our house-- even those not watching it -- was losing IQ points by osmosis. Then my PseudoUncle joined in on the complaints.
They didn't think the footage we were seeing on TV was for real. They thought most of the redneckocity or whatever one would care to call it was dreamed up by the producers. While I've said the same thing myself, I couldn't allow my dad and my PseudoUncle to trash my new favorite program with impunity. I had to defend June, Alana, SugarBear, Pumpkin, Chubbs, Chickadee and anyone else even loosely associated with the show.
My dad has since decided that I would fit in with the Honey Boo Boo family better than I fit in with my birth family. He claims to be making arrangements even as I type to have my
possessions transported to McIntyre, Georgia, so that I can move in with my kindred spirits. He said that spending five minutes in the presence of those people will in all likelihood lower my MCAT and LSAT scores to the point that I'll never even get into law school, much less medical school, but it's a price that must be paid. Human beings have a biological compulsion, he says, to be in the company of their natural peers, however far and wide they must travel to find them.
My father is proof positive that a person can have an MD and still be, for practical purposes, a functional moron.