The bat-toilet is bat-backing up!!

But seriously folks, is there anyone here who didn't have a dysfunctional childhood?? I know I did. My mother wore the pants in my family, and she had something that was simply known as "The Belt."

The Belt was one of those thin, male belts with the buckle removed, tied into a knot at one end with a loop. Kind of a cat-of-two-tails. When I was in trouble, my mother would chase me through are spacious abode, lashing my pale, smooth, gleaming ass cheeks until they glowed a rosy red.

Thence came the verbal abuse. Pointing, she would cry out in a thunderous, full-throated voice:

"You call THAT a pee-pee?! That's not a manhood! Hell, that's not even a BOYHOOD, but that doesn't mean I can't yank it out far enough to CUT IT OFF!"

Sniveling little SHIT!

Fucking little motherfucking FUCKER!!

Bubble-headed BOOBY!!!

Those were just a few of the choicer denunciations I could expect for such transgressions as failing to pick all of the lint from between her hairy toes.

But hey...I turned out just fine. >;-)

I hate to break it to all you hyper-sensitive PC types, but any given six-year-old is perfectly capable of being a little bastard or bitch. All it takes is shitty parenting...you know, the kind YOU provide.

I've had it up to here with your ill-mannered, mis-behaving, mis-begotten little twats. Half of them should be boiled in oil, and the other half thrown to wild, starving dogs.

"Hey I know. Lets see how long and how loud I can SHRIEK at the top of my widdle wungs at 7am on a Saturday!"

KILL them ALL.

The problem with children today is that they have little or no meaningful discipline in their widdle wives, so naturally they think the earth belongs to them and them alone. I would have believed the same thing at their age if not for my mother's thundering voice and velvet fist. If I had shrieked out loud in the middle of our neighborhood street at 7am on a Saturday I wouldn't be typing this now because I'd be DEAD.

Food for your starving brains.

But I did appreciate the gentleman's candor and combativeness. It was refreshing.

Instead of posting a spoof of the videotaped event using these hossenfeffer-to-be...

WHY IN THE FUCK DON'T YOU JUST POST THE DAMNED VIDEO ITSELF?!

I mean, this IS Video Dog, right?

Oh, that's RICH, Joan. Just RICH.

Let us recline in our chairs, thoughtfully pull on our luxuriant beards, fire up a splif and contemplate this contretempts.

Do you really believe what Alec Baldwin said was all that bad? Why? I've listened to the voicemail several times now, and it's quite clear that he was very hurt and so, like all males, lashed out because of it. It's also clear that this was the umpteenth time his daughter had done this to him, so mixed in with the hurt was humiliation and justifiable anger at her disrepect.

But calling her a "pig" makes the whole thing wrong, right?

Please. Were all you people raised in a Buddhist temple? Try THESE on for size:

"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."

"You little nit-shit, if you don't put that down and get over here I'm going to whip your little ass."

Or my personal favorite, from my late and lamented grandfather, who said this whenever he caught me picking my nose, which was all the time because at seven I loved a good pick:

Hey! Robbie!! Diggin' for clams?? FOUND ANY YET?!"

The above was invariably said loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. And see.

No, "pig" is not such a terrible word. Alec Baldwin should not have to prostrate himself...unless, of course, he had said something like this:

Oh you miserable shit. You little walking fuckstick. You cunt - no, wait, you don't even have a real cunt yet so I can't call you one. You slime-ball in a sea of pus. You dog-fondling cat-fucker!

How DARE you not take my call?! Who the fuck do you think you are, Steven Fucking Spielberg?!

Well I've got some news for you, sugar no-tits. Are you ready? You sure? Here it comes....

Watch. Your. Back.

That's right. When you and I go hiking around Mulholland don't get to close to the canyon edge. Or walk to close to a deep, isolated lake in the woods. Or drive that Ferrari your fucking bitch of a mother will inevitably buy you a bit too fast. Two words: No brakes.

That's right my little pussyfart. Daddy's coming for you. And he's going to GET YOU.

Now if he had said something like that then, yes, he should have to apologize publicly. And pronto.

This story is entirely too important for cute little editing tricks and effects. I don't watch these to be entertained, I watch to learn what a disaster we've unleashed in Iraq.

...the last time the times they were a changin' all that was necessary to stop the change was four assassinations and two official campus massacres. I don't doubt that such long knives will be unsheathed again.

Thanks.