A couple nights ago, I had a dream where I had two teenaged sons who looked like the Hanson brothers from the movie Slap Shot.
And they were stupid.
And by stupid I mean they couldn't speak English very well, they couldn't read, they couldn't feed themselves and their mouths were always agape with drool constantly running out.
Oh yeah. And they both had that little brown trailer-trash dirt rings around their mouths.
I gave one of my sons the book Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk and told him to read it.
"This is good. This is important. You should read this," I told him. "It will make you think about your life in a different way."
I left the room to do some dishes and came back to find him staring at the book....upside down.
"I know you're not really reading it," I yelled as grabbed the book out of his hands and threw it against the wall. "Why don't you and your brother just try a little harder?"
He stared back at me with an empty gaze and, of course, drool dripping from his mouth.
I grabbed my other son by the hand and took him downstairs to watch a movie in this elaborate home movie theater we had in our basement. There were about 10,000 DVDs lining the wall. Everything from Citizen Kane to No Country For Old Men and everything in between.
I asked him to pick out a movie.
He scanned the DVDs and quickly chose Just My Luck a stupid romantic comedy starring Lindsay Lohan.
"Dude, we've got every movie imaginable and you want to watch this?" I screamed at him. "How about Apocalypse Now directed by Francis Ford Coppola? How about The Killing directing by Stanley Kubrick? How about anything besides Just My Luck."
He searched the DVD wall again and produced another movie:
It was Leonard Part 6.
I let out a huge sigh and acquiesced. Tonight, we would watch Bill Cosby make a boob of himself.
As I tossed the movie into the DVD player, I silently and secretly damned my two stupid, drooling sons to hell.
When I awoke, I somehow blamed myself for my two dumb sons' stupidity.
Hmmm. A guilty parent? Imagine that.