Hello, Frozen Sandwiches Fans!
I know you've all been crying into your pillows at night without our presence, but never fear- we have a little something to tide you over in the meantime-
OUR CONTEST WINNER, BRIAN McVEIGH (AKA, Joy's Boss...suspicious, hmm?)
We'd like to thank the tens and tens of people that submitted stories, but we mutually decided on the winner since he provides Joy's paychecks and in turn pays for Jemina's shenanigans.
Read the winning story below, and we'll be back soon!
“Honor thy mother and father,” by Brian McVeigh- Joy’s Boss.
In reading the humorous accounts of the Boyd children contained in these pages, I came to the realization that, not only do I understand Phil and Syl more than the ungrateful lot to whom they gave birth, but that I aspire to parent in a manner consistent with their example. Therefore, I have decided to pen this column in defense of Phil and Syl. As a father of three, my main goal is to get my children from birth to adulthood in one piece. I would hope that during that journey, they come to love God, become educated, stay healthy, avoid vices, contribute to their community and one day have families of their own. All of the frills and luxuries of childhood really mean surprisingly little to a parent. Sure, I would like my kids to have fun, fit in, be popular, etc…, but parenting is like war, and as Sun Tzu teaches in the “Art of War”, the most important thing is that your little tyke lives to fight another day.
My guess is that this utilitarian model is behind the Machiavellian child rearing of Phil and Syl. Once you have found something that works- names beginning with “J”, bowl cut hairdo’s, unisex hand-me-downs, and the like, why stray from that familiar ground? As they say here in the South, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”. That is what led to Bear Bryant’s success. Repetitive defense and offense that got the job done, but was boring to watch, resulted in twelve National Championships (I can only find proof of seven, but that is fodder for another column).
It appears from the revisionist historical ramblings of the Boyd children that they are laboring under the misconception that their parents were somehow oblivious to their childhood shenanigans. They would have you believe that Phil and Syl stood by in some sort of parental fog, unaware that the kids were bartering to upgrade their lunches, dropping the “f” bomb in public, viciously abusing the oft-maligned Jemina, manipulating the powder content of the milk that lead to their hormone induced growth streaks (honestly, have you looked at the school picture of Joy on this page? She’s ten feet tall in first grade. No wonder they relied on hand-me-downs) Anyway, the truth of the matter, and I am sure I am violating some parenting rule revealing this to you like Dan Brown discussing the Catholic Church, is that we parents know about all of that stuff as it is happening. And we could care less. As a matter of fact, we get a kick out of it.
In reading the humorous accounts of the Boyd children contained in these pages, I came to the realization that, not only do I understand Phil and Syl more than the ungrateful lot to whom they gave birth, but that I aspire to parent in a manner consistent with their example. Therefore, I have decided to pen this column in defense of Phil and Syl. As a father of three, my main goal is to get my children from birth to adulthood in one piece. I would hope that during that journey, they come to love God, become educated, stay healthy, avoid vices, contribute to their community and one day have families of their own. All of the frills and luxuries of childhood really mean surprisingly little to a parent. Sure, I would like my kids to have fun, fit in, be popular, etc…, but parenting is like war, and as Sun Tzu teaches in the “Art of War”, the most important thing is that your little tyke lives to fight another day.
My guess is that this utilitarian model is behind the Machiavellian child rearing of Phil and Syl. Once you have found something that works- names beginning with “J”, bowl cut hairdo’s, unisex hand-me-downs, and the like, why stray from that familiar ground? As they say here in the South, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”. That is what led to Bear Bryant’s success. Repetitive defense and offense that got the job done, but was boring to watch, resulted in twelve National Championships (I can only find proof of seven, but that is fodder for another column).
It appears from the revisionist historical ramblings of the Boyd children that they are laboring under the misconception that their parents were somehow oblivious to their childhood shenanigans. They would have you believe that Phil and Syl stood by in some sort of parental fog, unaware that the kids were bartering to upgrade their lunches, dropping the “f” bomb in public, viciously abusing the oft-maligned Jemina, manipulating the powder content of the milk that lead to their hormone induced growth streaks (honestly, have you looked at the school picture of Joy on this page? She’s ten feet tall in first grade. No wonder they relied on hand-me-downs) Anyway, the truth of the matter, and I am sure I am violating some parenting rule revealing this to you like Dan Brown discussing the Catholic Church, is that we parents know about all of that stuff as it is happening. And we could care less. As a matter of fact, we get a kick out of it.
Phil and Syl got a free trip to Disney World, and got to laugh their heads off as they forced their children to dumpster dive for the 60,000 cans needed to finance the trip. Can you imagine that? It was brilliant! As a point of reference, go today and try to get anyone- your best friend, spouse, whomever, to rummage through filth collecting things so you can get a free anything. They will laugh at you like you are a buffoon. Phil and Syl got these childhood geniuses to volunteer. Who’s the dummy now, Joy?
Anyway, it appears that all of the Boyd children are grown, still alive, self sufficient and socially adept. Along the way they learned that if you want a Mickey Mouse shirt that fits or a happy meal rather than a plain burger with no sides, then you have to work for it. Any parent would be glad to have those results. So I say, Long live Phil and Syl!
