Jul. 18th, 2011

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The recent arc that had Mike and Gordo totally wuss out as backyard campers is not only a rather off-putting slice of irritating life in the Patterson's world, it's a reminder that Mike led a rather dreary childhood which was misspent lounging on the couch stuffing his craw while watching inane bullshit on television, being surly to his family and whinnying about how hard it was to have to deal with fancy mathematics like "2+4=6"; given that this mental pygmy ran circles around his ditzy mother and doofy father IQ-wise, it's not hard to see why they call him a genius. Given that spackle has more smarts than anyone in the Pattermanse who isn't going to get reamed out for being a hot shot Turk 182 because she knows where she's not wanted, any idiot can be called brilliant and any idiot is.

This is where that selective memory and the need to convert comforting bullshit stories into better truths than the unpleasant reality that Mike could have been declared furniture and sold at any time in his childhood that I've talked about so many times before comes into play. As I said the last time I talked about how Adult-in-name-only Mike declared his wasted youth as a wonderland of adventure, the Pattersonian love of self-deception will bear bitter fruit even until the next generation; that's because by the time EatDirt graduates from High School, his dumbass dad will look back on eighteen years of failure and whining for his wife and declare victory.

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