I wish my sister would stop complaining about my babysitting skills and start thanking me for exposing her kids to classic cinema that students pay thousands of dollars to study at bullshit schools like NYU. If “A Clockwork Orange” is so damn disturbing why the hell would I let my beloved niece and nephew watch it?
Helicopter parents like Diane and her beta husband Glen are the absolute worst. Instead of just appreciating their much needed date night, they prefer to say hurtful things to me like “Stop feeding our kids so much beef jerky,” “Don’t let them pet your snake,” and, “What would possess you to let them watch a movie that was banned in the UK for decades because it depicted graphic violence?!” God, shut up already.
Alex and his droogs made a CGI cameo in Space Jam 2, so it’s fine.
I dunno, maybe I don’t want their twins to turn out to be a couple of losers whose only film knowledge is Chip ‘N Dale Rescue Rangers. Perhaps I’d rather hang out with a couple of dope ass kids who aren’t too chicken shit to try something outside their comfort zone because I think they’re more mature than their parents give them credit for. It’s not like they’re fucking babies anymore, they’re almost seven. Time to let them grow up.
They act as if I’m forcing their kids to do crazy shit like helping me roll my blunts. I already tried that and despite their tiny fingers, which you’d think would be perfect for this particular task, they had no aptitude for it.
I guess it’s easy for my sister to ignore the fact that because of me and this movie, her children are huge fans of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, but I’m not gonna hold my breath for an apology. At the end of the day it’s really just about me spending quality time with my two special little droogies, who I better go check on since it shouldn’t take that long for two kids to turn on a propane BBQ.