I Wish My Wife and Children Would
Die in a Fiery Explosion
By: Stanley Potter
seems you can't turn on the television or open a newspaper anymore without
getting an eyful of the deathly mayhem currently unfolding in Iraq. Almost
every day some bunch of lunatics is bombing a crowded market or mosque,
leading to images of men digging through the flaming wreckage for their
families and running down the street with their limp, blood stained corpses
held up over their heads, screaming in unbridled ecstacy. The lucky bastards.
I wish my wife and children would die in a fiery explosion.
Every day this woman I was dumb enough to marry and her two kids I was
unfortunate to have sired make my life hell on Earth. Freedom? I have
none. I work eight hours a day, five days a week to put food on the table
for these ungrateful pigs, and still that isn't enough. Whenever I'm home
it's always, 'Daddy, I need this', 'Daddy, I want that', and, 'Stanley,
how long are you going to spend in the bathroom?'. And people say there's
no peace or freedom in Iraq? Try coming over to my place. At least Habib
the recently childless widower can watch an entire hockey playoff game
without being bitched at to fix something or be forced onto the porch
when he wants a smoke, because dead wives don't nag and ghost kids don't
It's not that I don't love my wife and kids, it's just that I'd be happier
if they'd be gone and leave me alone without me having to give up half
of my stuff, and if that should occur by fiery explosion, then so be it,
that's all. Just being honest. I'm sure I'm not the only one, which is
why I've supported the war in Iraq from day one. Not because I'm one of
these dumbasses who thought there was a connection between Iraq and 9-11
or because I was sappy enough to believe it would help promote freedom
and democracy in their country or preserve freedom in our's, but because
I knew it would destabilize the region, piss off a lot of maniacs and
increase the chances of guys like me all around the world being liberated
from the crushing oppression of family life through fiery explosion.
I mean, have you ever had to sit through one of these Little League baseball
games played by six year olds? They take forever because none of them
can catch or throw worth a shit to get any outs. Seriously, watching one
of these borefests almost makes me want to die in a fiery explosion. Is it too much to ask for a little 'me' time? Like say, forty years? I think I'm entitled.
Of course, knowing my luck, my old lady would probably just get her face
and arms blown off, leaving me with a wife who can't cook or clean and
looks like Sam Cassell. That would suck.