RMers with kids

[verb_to_trust]

What about RM dads starting a commune somewhere. Maybe in one of ruddos bunkers?

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Mickey]

Stop making me agree with you.

[dad]

Kids actually love child labor

simplified…they love structure.

[E.H. Ruddock]

Verb in here mocking parents now?

[verb_to_trust]

Verb in here mocking parents now?

Look, are you going to lend these guys a bunker or not?

[Mickey]

Not getting enough attention in the covid thread.

[E.H. Ruddock]

I sold them to burt

[E.H. Ruddock]

Not getting enough attention in the covid thread.

He foed spike and now isn’t getting enough conflict from his trolling

[verb_to_trust]

Not getting enough attention in the covid thread.

Covid is over

[dad]

Verb in here mocking parents now?

I love getting opinions from childless adults on the proper way to raise kids.

[verb_to_trust]

I'm sorry if I sound mean or tollish, I'm just worried about parents overreacting to their own neurosis.

Send your kids to private school by all means, but don't scuttle them off to a compound somewhere in some perceived utopia that doesn't even actually exist

[dad]

I'm sorry if I sound mean or tollish, I'm just worried about parents overreacting to their own neurosis.

Send your kids to private school by all means, but don't scuttle them off to a compound somewhere in some perceived utopia that doesn't even actually exist

I get what you’re saying, here. Personally, if I lost my kids to something like a school shooting…hell, if I lost them to anything, I wouldn’t be able to go on.

[verb_to_trust]

I'm sorry if I sound mean or tollish, I'm just worried about parents overreacting to their own neurosis.

Send your kids to private school by all means, but don't scuttle them off to a compound somewhere in some perceived utopia that doesn't even actually exist

I get what you’re saying, here. Personally, if I lost my kids to something like a school shooting…hell, if I lost them to anything, I wouldn’t be able to go on.

Oh yeah I'd imagine I'd kill myself for sure. My wife had to swerve away from a car on the highway on her way home from work the other day. It was a close call. I would definitely have killed myself if she had died. I expect her to head to work on Tuesday though.

[Mickey]

If my child died in a school shooting, particularly one with Uvalde's level of preventability, I don't think I would kill myself, exactly....

[spike]

If my child died in a school shooting, particularly one with Uvalde's level of preventability, I don't think I would kill myself, exactly....

[Bammer]

I’m not gonna let the bastards drive me away.

I do recall however; in the hospital when the twins were born, one of the first people we saw was a buddy who is head of hospital security. He had just recently completed some active shooter training with his team. I commented about “what kind of world are we bringing these kids in to?” and “was this a mistake?” etc.

His response back was to raise them right because the country/world needs good people. That really stuck with me.

Run off to France or Canada or wherever. I’ll be here doing my small part to keep shit together.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Bammer]

What’s going to happen in places like France or Canada when the population starts growing by a bunch of - wait for it - Americans?

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.