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Try it, Wuss: Come at Me, Bro!

In America, what society-at-large claims as ‘normal’ is usually anything but natural.

Often agreements are made, as part of the community status quo, to stick to straightforward, long ago established, double-standard narratives for the overall greater good of civil interest.

In other words, stick to the provided phrases, then go about your own business.

For example, someone says their 812-year-old great great great great really great aunt’s grandmother just died after her 682-year battle with syphilis:

You say, “Sorry for your loss.”

Maybe add, “Thoughts and prayers.”   Maybe, but nothing, nothing less.

Do not say, “Well, at least she was really old.”

Also, under no circumstances, do not dare ask,  “Whoa, how’d she catch the French/Portuguese/Italian or whatever country one wishes to blame it on, or Grandgore (disease), or AKA Syfy or the Great Pox?”

Do you understand?  Do you get it, buddy?   Stick to the script.   The same thing holds true on many issues, for example, rape is never something to joke about publicly…

***Unless said abuse transpired in a federal, pound me in the ass penitentiary, then, to some, it’s timelessly hilarious.

Society rules dictate and provide the following to keep the peace:

“Thoughts and prayers,  sorry for your loss, everything happens for a reason,  money won’t make you happy, patience is a virtue, I’m not racist, because I have (insert race other than your own) friend, bless your heart, etc…”   Remember all those terms, use them properly, all will go well.

Also, during potentially awkward or weird situations that are a tad bit ‘seedy’– do not lose focus or bearing.   For instance, if a couple announces their pregnancy, do not ask whatever may be floating in your brain.   Stick to congratulations, move forward, forget ya ever heard anything as if it never happened.

Do not… please refrain, from asking any and all questions around the circumstances that led to the pregnancy.  This includes, but is not limited to the following short list:

“So, what was the position that got ‘err done for ya’ll?”

(Self-giggle, giggle, “got ‘err done” and how.)

“I thought you had a low count… did a friend or somebody help out?   Hmm, guess that could explain the handsome dude I saw leaving your place, not all that long ago… hmmm, several times.”

“Did both of you want a baby or was it the quasi-normal reality of Mr. Man not liking condoms, because they “just don’t feel right” while Mom-to-be somehow assumes having a child will solve her internal loneliness and give her the unconditional love, or so she thinks, that she has never had?”

Also, do not mention Idiocracy, especially nothing to do with the reality of the scene of dumb folk ‘outpacing’ smart folk that causes a steady decline, a continuation of mental de-evolution.  Just stick to saying ‘good job’ or ‘congrats.’

Yes, they likely,  more times than not, had sex to produce the said pregnancy but NO!  No, that does not mean you can high-five your buddy Dave for “hitting that” or getting laid– EVER… unless it leads to pregnancy, then somehow, for some reason, it’s cool.

When the baby is born, stick to “how cute”– no matter how ugly or no matter how much it may look like some other fellow or a little wrinkly old man– do not mention “better take that to Maury” or anything else– just stick to “how cute.”  Sure, everyone knows most if not all babies are ugly until they are at least two-years-old, some never really ever grow out of the “ugly phase” but don’t think, just “how cute” your way through it.  Leave the honesty to someone else, for such a job belongs to the truly professional a-holes of the world and that is not you,  okay?

Think of the specialness of babies being similar to George Carlin’s astute observation between one’s own stuff versus someone else’s shit.  In other words, one’s treasure is another’s crying on the plane pain or temper tantrum in “the” Walmart because, “I want it, momma!  Give it me– right now… b*tch!”

Please consider chucking a buck to help sustain and grow TheDR.World,
Thank you.

What is to follow is a discovery, a celebration of sorts, about a few such a-holes that took it upon themselves to condemn the ugliness, the sordid underbelly of… babies.

The purpose of what shall follow is not to prepare the reader to be a competitor on Jeopardy, just trying to inspire curiosity and encourage learning through real-world intrigues.  To further romanticize the oddity wonders, “real” photographs will not be used.  Instead, yours truly created works of distorted art– to see the real thing, one is going to have to click some additional links and do some self-study.

In no specific order or ranking, TheDR.World celebrates the following:

In Oslo, Norway there is a historical estate known as Frogner manor which is part of the Oslo City Museum.   The vast sight also includes a spacious public park, Frogner Park.  Within the Frogner Park visitors can visit an area which features around 200 sculptures from one artist, Mr. Gustav Vigeland.

In the 1920s, Mr. Vigeland made an agreement with the local government, they would provide him a place to stay close to the park, in exchange, he would make tons of sculptures.  Just a guess, but the sculptor may have not been overly fond of children.

Angry baby
The Angry Boy, Oslo, Sweden (includes the real head picture)

The Angry Boy is a terrifying sight to behold.    The little-naked tyke is obviously angry as his feet stomp the ground, his arms flailing, and the look on his face– is absolutely frightful.

Perhaps, Mr. Vigeland was a pre-abstinence guy or just a dude that loathed screaming babies, so much so, he had to permanently immortalize such a hair-raising terror?  Regardless of Vigeland’s inspiration, it must be noted The Angry Boy still remains a popular park work.

In recent times, the statue has suffered damage to it’s coated hands due to the constant touching by guests.   Additionally, the sculpture has even been a victim of vandals and thieves throughout the years.

The Angry Boy might be a timeless horror craft, but it would not be the only Vigeland work that seeks to immortalize the horribleness of children.

Introducing, one of the most prime “I hate kids” works of all-time:

The Man Kicking the Sh*t out of Babies  

Man Kicking Baby
Man *allegedly* Attacked by Genii, Oslo.

This piece offers several intrigues with one of the least enthralling questions being, “Why is the man kicking the shit out of those babies?”

Them little bastards– they know what they did.

As for the sculpture, even the title itself often gets lost in translation.  In some instances, one may see the nearly 50-foot tall celebration of man’s power over infants referred to as “Man Chasing Four Geniuses.”  Yet, other folks refer to the man-stamp as “Man Attacked by Genii.”

Neither title is actually referencing or implying these tiny-bashed tots are super smart and embarrassed the man by beating him in a spelling bee or anything along those lines.

No, Gustav Vigeland knew, even in the early to mid-1900s, he needed a good cover story.  So, the babies allegedly represent four evil entities that are attacking the man.   Therefore, the giant gent is left no choice but to kick the living hell out of those unruly demon-infants.

Fans of South Park may recall the game of “kick the baby”– but in Vigeland’s creation, the four babies are all demons, likely comparable to South Park’s baby, Ike, on steroids.

Come on, bro.  Kick the f*ckin’ baby.  I’d like to see you try it, wuss.”

However, the most significant mystery of all– why is the dude not wearing pants?  Is it not odd already odd enough to fight children?   So, why no pants, Mr. V.?

One man’s precious = another man’s ‘sammich’

Man Eating Baby
Kindlifresserbrunnen, Bern, Switzerland.

Meet Kindlifresserbrunnen which loosely translates to “child eating fountain.”

The magnificent fountain is located in Bern, Switzerland.

The 16th-century statue features an ogre eating a baby while, in the ogre’s sack, several petrified children witness the incident. Today, Mr. NotsoKind… remains an omnipresent fixture of the city of Bern.

However, the ogre figure is so old and nobody, well apparently, bothered to even write down why they initially built the statue– so, today nobody actually knows for sure what the ogre eating children is supposed to mean, represent, nor the true legend behind its creation.

Hence, there are a high number of hypothesizes that attempt to explain the creature’s backstory, but in the end, the meaning is and likely will always remain a legitimate riddle.

(To read a few popular guesses to the underlying origin of Kindlifresserbrunnen.)

Honorary Mention:

In Louisville, Kentucky sits a cemetery known as Cave Hill.   The burial ground came to be as a result of the American Civil War era for both fallen Union and Confederate troops.   Over the years, the cemetery has become a noteworthy museum-type attraction for those wishing to learn more about the area, Civil War history, or to visit “famous” gravesites.

A list of those buried at Cave Hill includes Muhammad Ali, Colonel Sanders (the KFC icon), and the lady that wrote The Happy Birthday song (the version that nobody can sing on television or movies due to copyright infringement or something, pay up, no free songs, pal).  However, a relatively new monument is not technically a condemnation of children, it’s just sorta creepy.

Jesus is my Swingset
Jesus is my Swingset, Louisville, Kentucky

Whatever one’s view may be on child death dedications is a matter of personal taste.

Yet, the story behind ‘Jesus is my Swingset’ is genuinely heartbreaking.  Furthermore, unlike many distant legends, the truth behind the creation of this figure is recent.

In the mid-2000s, a little girl rode her tricycle into the family pool and drowned.

Today, the same little girl is immortalized being pushed and watched over by Jesus.  The story is true, it just happened, and it is an incredibly sad tale.

The inclusion of this particular monument is not meant as a joke, it is meant to serve as an honest reminder, consider it a Public Service Announcement from TheDR.World–

Even if you don’t necessarily like the little monsters:

Please keep a close eye on your or others’ small children. 


Kick the Baby

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