I'm so not a proud parent.

I've got nobody to brag about. All these wonderful updates and praises from Facebook friends about talented offspring, and I gots nuthin. Well, I do have cats and a wonderful worm. Still, they don't go to school, don't belong to any clubs, and achieve little aside from slumber.

Symon will not be nominated for any high school awards--you know the ones that make the non-athletic children feel as though they have some valuable talent making them special too. I should know. I received my high school letter jacket because I made The Honor Society. Mom was so proud. Pop preferred that I know how to throw a football instead of solve a Rubik's Cube. That varsity letter wasn't quite the pussy magnet it was on running backs, who are now collecting shopping carts in mall parking lots.

What shall I place on my bumper? "My sons are pussies," perhaps.

Syd has achieved nothing beyond figuring out how to crawl under my covers and mess my freshly made bed. He also knows how to trip his brother and bite his neck--not praise-worthy. He doesn't make any human-like faces I can caption in a meme and my Photoshop skills aren't sufficient. I can't even brag about his choice to take on a drug-free lifestyle because he constantly gets stoned on catnip and chases ghosts.

Perhaps I can brag about my wonderful worm, Willy. He has a knack for causing oxytocin leaks, but that's typical of his breed. He's not athletic. I tried playing pool with him, using him as a peg for doughnut ring-toss, and introducing him to hands-free Jenga. He sucked at all three. Willy isn't artistic either. He can't draw on much other than toilet rims. He's not very smart, as he's taken me into some dark places that weren't easy to find my way out of. I'd say he's a little prick. Don't get me wrong; I still love that fucker.

Nothing to brag about here. I can't even find suitable decals for my Jeep's rear window. I thought it would be cute to stick a pair of paw prints and an anaconda there. The minivan mommies would probably misunderstand my decal, though, as some anti-Christian walking snake thing. It's unfortunate that I can't be a proud parent. Maybe I should have a political agenda I can rudely display on my vehicle in an attempt to sway voters:

"Bush/Wiener 2012"

They're always running.

Inappropriate?

Can we please get over our feigned disgust with body parts? I’ll poke fun at Weiner’s wiener like anyone else, but I have to admit (and this does not make me hoo-moo) his pee pee pic does not disgust or offend me. Nudity, in general, doesn’t offend me. I’ve seen certain clothed people who offended my senses much worse than nude people. Hang out at a public pool, the beach, or any popular nightclub in Palm Springs to see what I mean.

I wondered how the powers-that-be decided what’s inappropriate, so I posted a black-and-white close up of my hairy left nipple on Facebook. Sure, some of the comments (from hurtful pricks) included: “Gross,” “Ew,” “Ick,” and “Yuck.” But, a majority of the comments included a colon and right parenthesis indicating to the social media world that the person understood my sarcasm and found it amusing.

My nipple is not inappropriate, disgusting, controversial, pornographic, or unsightly. It’s a sensitive lump of useless skin containing lactiferous ducts arranged cylindrically around the tip.

SIDE NOTE: Once, back in my nightclub owning days, my manager and I were bored while a bunch of hillbillies two-stepped around my hardwood floor. I was playing with a ring box and decided it would be amusing to clamp it onto his shirt. My precision was uncanny as the box snapped shut on the very tip of his right nipple, causing him to squeal like a hungry piglet. He still hasn’t forgiven me. Then again, I haven’t apologized. It was amusing.

I guarantee that if I posted my nipple in the form of an upper body shot of me in board shorts on a towel at the beach reading Chelsea Handler’s latest, nobody would have balked. Therefore, the issue that was taken was with the proximity of the nipple. So, nipples are cute from a distance. I have to ask the Moral Majority: At what distance does my nipple become unsightly?

Maybe the problem is that my nipple has hair around it. Why is hair gross? Why are women removing all of their Twinkie hair? My nipple hair is uniformly trimmed (clipper setting three, if you must know) as is the rest of my chest hair. Sure, there’s some blond—sun bleached … OK, it’s fucking gray—mixed in. If I had never trimmed my chest hair and my chest resembled Tom Jones’ head, fine, I’ll accept that it would be unsightly but still not gross. In fact, let me ask you this: Which, on a man, is grosser? A hairy nipple or hairy back?

I know!

Imagine how disarmed the media would become if nudity were ordinary and acceptable? We’d have to begin raising our children differently. Because a minute percentage of people are deviants, we insist that private parts are naughty bits and they need to be concealed. Let’s stop hiding what’s completely natural (the human body) and start dealing with the disturbed people who can’t handle seeing one without misbehaving.

Here’s a small sampling of things I can find on Facebook right now, which are much grosser than my mammary papilla or, if you prefer, teat:

• Duck faces.
• Ads with young women looking to meet older men.
• Donald Trump’s head.
• Farmville.
• Dogs (that one was contributed by my six-nippled furballs, Syd and Symon).