Suburgatory (25 page)

When vaccine proponents got wind of Anti-Vaxxer Barbie, they commissioned a toy maker found on the homemade crafters' website Etsy to begin work on their own doll, a girl confined to a wheelchair in a world where childhood diseases are once again running rampant. They plan to call her “Polio Polly.” Their doll will say, “
I wish my legs worked!
” and “
Why did hippies let polio come back?
”

When told of this development, Burger just threw up her hands and said, “You see? So overdramatic.”

PAID ADVERTISER CONTENT

Keller Piano Academy for the Low to Moderately Talented

Is your child showing a slight interest in music, but not necessarily the talent to take him to the heights of a career in piano? Then we might be just the school for you! At the
Keller Piano Academy for the Low to Moderately Talented,
we will teach your child to shoot, but only shoot just far enough. Gone is the tension created when your piano teacher believes her student will someday exceed her in ability or stature. It happens all the time, and it's not pretty.

As the parent of a child with low to moderate talents in the musical realm, you probably don't even
want
to get your kid lessons but are feeling the pressure. What would those bitches at school say if you don't? You're not going to be one of
those moms
who doesn't give your child every chance in life to excel, are you?

Well, at the
Keller Piano Academy for the Low to Moderately Talented,
we will “teach” your child at cut-rate prices, and you never have to worry about us secretly hating your beloved.

Because we'll let you in on a dirty little secret about piano teachers: Most of us sit there during your child's lesson, dreaming of performing and wishing we didn't have that fucking mortgage to pay and maybe if we didn't have these bills and these kids and that useless husband, we'd be prepping for Carnegie Hall right now. When a superstar lands in our midst, burning up the keyboard, all our hopes and dreams tickle past us like a tragic arpeggio across our lives.

We get angry but can't show it, of course, because that would be crazy, and so we engage in passive-aggressive sabotage. So if you have the next Lang Lang at home, the
Keller Music Academy for the Low to Moderately Talented
is probably not for you. But if you have the thoroughly average child, our teachers might be the perfect fit to take him far in his musical odyssey—but, well, not too far! We love seeing his little fingers stumbling helplessly across the keyboard, never to amount to much of anything beyond a robotic rendition of “Fur Elise,” which is probably all you want anyway. Call or friend us on Facebook today!
Keller Music Academy for the Low to Moderately Talented.
P.S. We even discount for the least talented kids!

McDonald's a Very Bad
Setting to Explain Slavery

Suburgatory, USA—A local mom is kicking herself for choosing McDonald's to explain slavery and its legacy to her six-year-old son. “The legacy of this stupid decision, well, I'm going to live with it 'til at least the seventh grade when Teddy finally actually understands slavery. That is, unless we are ripped apart in the giant race riot he causes before then,” said Jan Maxwell.

Jan and Teddy were heading to lunch at the Boone Street McDonald's; Jan was listening to
Fresh Air
with Terry Gross on public radio. As part of Black History Month, Gross was interviewing an author about the history of the slave trade. “Terry Fucking Gross. Another white liberal moron just like me,” Jan said, berating herself.

As they arrived at the McDonald's, Teddy and Jan ordered their food and sat down. It was then that Teddy asked his mom, “What's slavery?”

Jan:
Well, Tadpole [Teddy's nickname], this is hard. Slaves were people with darker skin who were forced to serve other people—lighter people like me and you. They had terrible jobs, doing the same boring or tiring thing over and over and over . . .

Teddy processed this, looked at the entirely black or Hispanic staff of McDonald's sweating, stone-faced and slinging fries with lightning speed, and then looked at what was, on that day, the entirely white clientele, mostly moms and kids, eating contentedly.

Teddy:
You mean, like them?
[pointing to the counter]
They are slaves?

Jan:
No, no, not at all, Tadpole! Slavery's over. They get paid. Slaves didn't get paid. They got food and a place to sleep, that's it.

Teddy:
Oh, that's good. I'm sure these brown people get a lot of money now after all that slavery stuff.

Jan:
Well. . . .

As a mother, Jan knew that being honest about salaries at McDonald's might complicate matters immensely. But as a good liberal, “like Terry Fucking Gross,” Jan made the regrettable mistake of being honest.

Jan:
Well, actually, I'd be lying to you if I said they do. They don't make much. Very little in fact. They make enough to just get by, but not much more than that. It's a hard life.

Teddy:
Do they at least get to eat the food?

Jan:
Um, no. They take their small amount of money from McDonald's and buy food, probably somewhere else, like we do, at the store.

Teddy:
So slaves got paid in food and these brown people get a teeny bit of money and buy their own food?

Jan:
Yes.

Teddy:
Then what's the difference? They
are
slaves!

Jan:
No sweetie, they're not. No one owns them.

Teddy:
If McDonald's pays them their tiny money and but doesn't feed them, then doesn't McDonald's own them?

Jan:
No . . . look, Teddy, they don't make much money but they aren't slaves. They have their families—slaves mostly didn't have their kids with them. Moms lost their babies.

Teddy:
What about
those
moms?
[gesturing to the women working behind the counter]
I don't see any brown babies here. Where are their brown babies?

Jan:
They put them in daycare—you know, the place to keep them so the workers can do their work for McDonald's.

Teddy:
So McDonald's takes them away!

Teddy started crying and said, “I don't want my Happy Meal if a brown mommy gets her brown baby taken from her!” And then, before Jan could grab him, he ran up to the counter and said, “I'm so sorry you are slaves and I'm a slavemaker! You shouldn't be slaves!”

Jan said, “Teddy, no!”

Then he told white people in line that they were “slavemakers,” too.

Maxwell shudders even recalling it. “Basically I've turned my son into a little Malcolm X. A Malcolm X who still wets his bed.”

Will she go to McDonald's again? “No. From now on we're getting served by mostly white people only. Teddy X better start liking Starbucks.”

Dog Fed Better than Scholarship Child, Says School Nurse

Suburgatory, USA—A concerned school nurse asked for a meeting with the mother of Tom Mason, a scholarship student at Bundy Academy, upon deciding that her dog is fed better than the student.

“A dog is a child,
my child,
and of course I feed Roxie only hormone-free grass-fed beef, real cheeses and yogurts, pureed vegetables, whole wheat pasta, brown rice, and flax seed,” said Jenny Maurice, who added that on special nights he gets “prepared dinners,” including one described this way on the menu at the high-end Delicious Ruff Doggie Bistro: “Ground Shoulder of Farm-Raised Beef served over Couscous and Oven-Roasted Leeks. Served with a sauté of Fresh Pan-Wilted Kale, Fresh Garbanzo Beans, Roasted Polenta, and Hint of Garlic. Then drizzled with High Oleic Kosher Olive Oil.” Maurice said, “I know, I know, it sounds a tiny bit excessive, but it really keeps Roxie's coat shiny.”

So with all her attention to Roxie's diet, “and my own,” she added, Maurice was disturbed when she saw Tom's monthly diet diary, which is required of all the students. “You're damn right I requested a meeting with his mother!” said Maurice.

This reporter asked whether she also requested that the boy's father attend.

“Oh come on,” she said, exasperated. “Father? What father? What planet are
you
on? Even if there was a father, and I doubt it, I wouldn't call him. They're pretty much all useless, no matter where they come from.”

Maurice decided that Mason's mother wasn't going to be receptive after it took a week to set up the meeting. “Oh, because I'm a bad mother? Is that what she thinks?” said mother Terry Quillan. “You know, he is with his dad half the time but I'm guessing she didn't call
him
in for a meeting. Which took me a week to set up because we live twenty miles from school and I
work.
At Clucky's Chicken. They don't give you a ton of ‘me-time' at Clucky's Chicken.”

As Maurice and Quillan sat down together, Maurice placed a sheet down showing the new USDA “plate” with its nutritional recommendations. “Ms. Maurice, I'm fully aware of what's healthy and what's not,” said Quillan.

“Well, not to overstep . . .” said Maurice hesitantly, “but Tom's diet diary had a lot of carbs and not much high-quality protein like, say, wild salmon, and no real ‘rainbow' of fruits and vegetables. It looks mostly frozen or from cans and certainly not organic or locally sourced. Now since I care so much about this issue, I took it upon myself to talk with the folks at Whole Foods to put together a possible meal plan for you!”

The list included Pineapple-Chicken Kabobs with Quinoa, Fruit, and Hemp Seed Muesli, and Lebanese-Style Grass-Fed Ground Beef Kabobs.

“I thought the chicken and grass-fed ground beef would be more affordable for you. Things like wild sea scallops can really add up. I know firsthand!” said Maurice, hoping to be helpful.

Quillan looked at the list in enraged wonder. “This food would wipe out a week's worth of food stamps in two meals. Tell me, is my son doing poorly in school? Is he overweight? No, he is neither. He eats what I can afford and what he'll actually eat. And what he eats at his
father's house half of the time.
This meeting's
over.
”

As Quillan stormed out, Maurice lovingly fingered the frame on her desk showing Roxie's photo. “Oh Roxie. You are so lucky to have me.”