I’m watching preschoolers learn how to fight. Surely none of them know the world is on fire, unless they have parents like me who shout it to the heavens at the dinner table. No, they think it’s fun. It’s cute.
Keep that mentality, kids. You’re going to need it.
Truth be told, it’s not Thunderdome. My kid takes karate and the the young ones aren’t finished. It’s adorable in a “Lord of the Flies” sort of way.
I predict only one of these eight children will carry on to be a black belt. Those statistics sound reasonable. The rest of them will be enslaved by our Trump-alien overlord hybrids; perhaps successfully. That one kid who continues karate will be enslaved as well, they’ll just get their ass kicked first for attempting to fight back.
At least it won’t be that foretold melancholy existence, flailing madly between nightmare-soaked sheets.
Burning skies, choking smog, behind the shadows of Kaiju-Trump’s mini monster dong. Talent. Pure talent.
Easy does it, easy does it, they’ve got something to say “no” to…
The Gonzo Wolf 
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