Total Eclipse of the Son

As the light weakened yesterday evening, I got this sorry feeling in the pit of my stomach, being one of those who gets S.A.D. when the light goes. But my husband whipped up an eclipse box, neighbors came out, and soon we were all playing with the little crescent-shaped shadows the sun made everywhere as the world didn't end.

I remembered a solar eclipse twenty-some years ago that occurred just as I was pondering making a move with a guy I liked. I heard on the radio that from a psychic point of view when the sun and moon cross, it's a good augur for male/female relations. Here we were, playing with the sun and our son.  Throughout the evening I realized how often our smaller problems often eclipse our bigger ones.

Pumped up Kicks

Good morning, KFOG.
I tried to call in during the song that woke me up this morning, but there was no answer.
"All the other kids better run, better run... faster than my bullet."
This is an upbeat song about a kid shooting other kids. I like the catchy tune, but the song is morally twisted, and not in a good way; it's sociopathic and horrible. There is no frame of reference for the evil sentiment. The songwriter said he was 'exploring the mind of a young killer,' but it sounds more like he's glorifying it. At least with A Clockwork Orange there was some framing of the sentiment of cheerful violence, and a resolution at the end. (And songs like Jeremy, I Don't Like Mondays, etc. at least reflect an authentic emotional tone.) This song says, "it's okay and fun to kill other people! I like it!" It feels like the normalization of a phenomenon that destroys the fabric of American lives over and over again.
On the plus side, a comment made on the YouTube video did tip off Phoenix police that a 14-year-old was inspired by this song, and his rampage was prevented.
I'm a big fan of whimsy, even serious whimsy, but this song really upsets me, and I always turn off the radio when I hear it. But I like KFOG, especially in the mornings, and figured it would be worth the trouble to ask: Could you please not play it anymore? The tune gets stuck in my head for hours, and I hate myself. Maybe ask your other listeners what they think.
Thanks,
Kristen Caven
Oakland parent

Our Poop-Throwing Fundraiser

Just last weekend, I invented the MOST disgusting use of Jell-o, EVER. And the kids loved it.

I volunteered to plan a booth for the first annual Harvest Festival at my son's school. I got the idea from PTO Today to do a toilet-paper toss as a booth -- gross, but kids love it. Another mom wanted to do a "gooey/gross toss" with Knox Blox. We combined the idea. A certain dad snickered that maybe the Jell-o blocks should be brown and yellow. Blithely, I mixed them up with leftover orange juice, chocolate pudding, and—er, why not?—a can of corn. My third-grade son was reading Captain Underpants and the Attack of the Talking Toilets, and made a text-to-life connection. Now we had a literary reference! What a wonderful family/community collaboration! It was all coming together! I papered the outside of the can with cartoons photocopied from the book.

"Step right up!" I called. "Help Captain Underpants defeat the Talking Toilets!" Kids flocked to the table. "Wear underpants on your head if you want to play for free!" (Don't worry, they were right out of the package.) I let them choose what material to fling — "Wet or dry?" — the yellow stuff, the brown stuff, or the roll of toilet paper? "Kids, don't try this at home," I warned. The kids chose both options evenly, some pinching even the roll of TP with two fingers, wearing a pained look on their face; some squishing the Jell-o between their fingers with glee in their eyes.

As the sun rose higher into the heavens and this baby bacchanal progressed, however, the game got more and more gross. Sand stuck to the Jell-o when it fell on the ground. The brown stuff left skid-marks all over the toilet seat. Even the toilet paper got covered with goo. At one point I looked up to see a passerby with a look of abject horror on her face. Immigrant moms in their traditional garb stood far, far away. Suddenly I realized the shame I'd brought upon the school with my sick and twisted leadership. I smiled brightly and batted my eyelashes, unable to think of what else to do.

"Tra-la-laaa!" Welcome to Sequoia, where your kids can fling poo! If there is one thing that parents learn early, it's that s**t washes off. Besides, it's only a game.