Parents Behaving Badly

Sacre bleu! After racking up an incredible amount of debt (250,000 Euros – that’s a lot of Royales With Cheese, my friends), Emmanuel Cartier and his wife Patricia did what any sensible parents would do – they tried to poison all of their kids and themselves with insulin injections. Sadly, the couple’s daughter Alicia died as a result.

This is not to say that they were bad parents; after all, the Cartiers used their 15 credit cards to buy each kid their own TV, two of the kids had their own computers, and three had “hi-fi” (after reading that particular bit of Euroslang, I had to check to make sure this story was written in 2005 and not 1975). Well, ok, maybe they were bad parents. Why didn’t they buy ALL the kids their own “hi-fi”? It’s wrong to play favorites. Clearly, these two have issues. Poor Emmanuel – you have to feel something for a guy named after the popular heroine of a series of soft-porn flicks made famous by “Skinemax”. Looks like they’re bound for the Bastille. Au revoir, putains.

Here’s a Fun Fact: Joseph and Lamoy Andressohn are from Homestead, Florida – the town where I was born. Unlike the Andressohns, however, my parents didn’t try to raise me on a diet of peanut shells and lawn clippings. And unlike their little girl, I didn’t starve to death.

The Andressohns have been charged with neglect and manslaughter following the death of their child, who died after subsisting on coconut water, wheat grass, and some sort of beverage made from almonds. The little girl weighed only 7 pounds at 6 months of age. Defense lawyers are contending that the child’s death was due to a rare genetic condition; prosectuors are countering that claim with evidence supporting abuse and malnutrition. The Andressohns themselves face an uphill battle against what their lawyer Ellis Rubin refers to as “prejudice”. Yes, there does seem to be prejudice against parents who force their kids to eat stuff that’s only suitable for “Survivor” contestants and blame some imaginary genetic defect when the kid dies. It’s a tough old world, Mr. Rubin.

To clarify: by “alone”, I don’t mean mean “in the den watching The Wiggles while Mommy and Daddy play backgammon in the breakfast nook”. This is more along the lines of “on a freezing cold sidewalk in the middle of the night inhaling exhaust fumes”. Elias and Felicia Dominguez have been charged with abusing of endangering the health of a child; seems they left their little girl sitting on the sidewalk by herself while they flitted off to do church-related things.

Yes, God-fearing folks that they are, the Dominguez’s were visiting the Bay Area for a church conference. At least that’s what they told the authorities. Because that’s what Church People do – they crash their friends’ house at 2:oo in the morning, leave their kid on the sidewalk next to the still-running SUV and vanish for a few hours. It’s all very wholesome. It’s like something you might see in an Amy Grant video. (Seriously – a church conference? Is that the best these two idiots could could come up with? Well, I guess it beats “visiting the Bay Area to score some kind weed”.)

There’s nothing I can write that can possibly do this story any justice. It’s breathtaking (and not in a “Ooooh! Niagara Falls!” way. More like, “Ooooooh! I wish I could surgically remove the piece of my brain where the memory of this article will be stored!”). Really. It’s too much. I got nothin’.

“I know now I never should have owned a horse.” True dat, McKinley. True dat.

Congrats to Michelle Duggar and her husband, the aptly-named Jim Bob, on the birth of their 16th child. That’s right – SIXTEEN KIDS. To illustrate how many kids 16 is, let’s say you had 8 kids. The Duggars would have twice as many as you.

Now, we here at PBB are all about being fruitful and multiplying. So why are they featured here? Taking their cue from Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Arizona, Sr., the Duggars have bestowed each of their progeny with a name beginning with the letter “J”. Toss in a couple of Biblical names (Jeremiah, Jedidiah, Josiah – I assume that’s from the Bible, ’cause I somehow doubt they’re “West Wing” fans), and the PBB-appropriate “Jinger”, and…did I mention the husband’s name was Jim Bob? The family plans to take a few vacations in the months ahead – King’s Island, the Grand Canyon, and some spooky cursed idol- laden caves in Hawaii are on the itinerary. No word on whether or not they’re bringing Cousin Oliver.

Jersey Shore locals Ernest and Cynthia Davison have been charged with child endangerment and aggravated assault on the five year old girl in their care. When removed from the home, the girl weighed in at 21 pounds – about half the normal weight of a five year old. Physical evidence indicated that she had also been left in restraints for extended periods of time.

I know what you’re thinking. “Jason”, you think, “these two people are a couple of lowlife shitheels who deserve to spend the rest of their days rotting in a cell, getting donkey-punched by their amorous cellmate. What kind of sick motherfuckers shackle and starve a five year old?” Yeah, I thought the same thing. But then I read the statements from their lawyers. “They are two of the kindest people.” “They’ve received awards.” Awards? Awards, you say? Well! I didn’t know about the awards! Beg pardon! Bad people simply don’t win awards.

Justice is blind. And apparently dumb. In an effort to bring closure to a lengthy abuse case and get themselves a 4:00 tee time at the golf course tomorrow, attorneys involved in this abuse casehave come up with a novel solution. Charges against the unidentified mother will be dropped if the mother agrees to give the girl back to the state. I’m no John Roberts – hell, I’m not even a Harriet Miers! – but it seems to me that this would set a really bad precedent. Like, “Hey, if I tell you where I’m holding the guy I kidnapped, can I walk?”

To his credit, the judge in the case seems to be reluctant to allow this deal to go forward until “some questions were answered”. For starters, the judge plans on asking the district attorney who agreed to this ridiculous idea if he’s “fucked in the head”.

(WARNING – SARCASM AHEAD) Now’s here something we don’t see very often – a story about a pit bull killing a kid. Turns out James Martin and Heather Frango, who will never be confused for James Herriott and Jon Katz, have had previous run-ins with their neighbors and the law over their doggies. Seems they’ve owned pit bulls (scientific name: Timebombus waitingtoexplodus) for years, with the usual results.

Now, I’m a dog owner, and admittedly biased (when I was a kid, my dog – a Pekinese/poodle mix – got into it with a pit bull that was running around loose. Guess who won?) against this particular breed. Ever wonder WHY they’re called pit bulls? (Google it. And see how many times you come across the phrase “bred to fight”.) And I’m waiting for all of you pit bull owners out there to write me and tell me how wonderful they are and how great they are around kids blah blah blah bullshit bullshit bullshit. I’ll believe that as soon as I come across a story with the headline “Dachschund Kills Child”.

Oh, Jesus. Once again, God has failed to personally come down from His Throne In Heaven and save a baby in need of medical attention. I know, I know – I’m just as surprised as you are. I guess He has His hands full, making images of the Virgin Mary appear on burned grilled cheese sandwiches and convincing old people to send Pat Robertson all of their money. Louis and Patricia Leeman heeded the advice of their church elders (“Doctors? Feh.”), and sadly their six-day-old daughter paid the price.

Apparently, the Church of The First Born in Gosport, Indiana, needs to hire a statistician. When you’re 0-for-2 in the “Prayers Will Save Sick Babies” category, some adjustments are in order. A grand jury will convene to determine the fate of the Leemans; church elder Thomas Nation told reporters that it’s all in God’s hands now. God, meanwhile, has issued this statement: “It seems I need to add an 11th Commandment. I’m thinking of something along the lines of, ‘Thou shalt not be a fucking moron and look to Me to bail thy stupid ass out when thou makest galactically idiotic decisions.’ That should cover quite a few bases, actually.”

Actually, Chris Cagle said “That baby AIN’T mine”. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I’ll admit that I’m not a big country fan, and am not familiar with Mr. Cagle’s work (though I assume it involves songs about various things – wife, dog, truck, Dale Earnhardt, etc. – that have up and done left him). Turns out that he is not the father of his kid.

Cagle posted the following statement on his website: “As excited as I was about becoming a new father, my disappointment now is equally as strong. So out of respect for all that are involved, please allow this situation to remain private.” Um…you made the announcement yourself, on a website that many of your fans will read. To paraphrase Inigo Montoya – I do not think “private” means what you think it means. Second, yeah, it’s probably disappointing, but dude – look at the bright side. This story will make one heck of a song. Hell – you could squeeze a concept album out if it.

In a plot twist worthy of a Sam Mendes/Alan Ball movie, 35-year-old Scotsman Derek Graham was stabbed by his 17-year-old son Sean after hooking up with Sean’s girlfriend Danielle, also 17. Young Sean was a wee bit upset with Dad, as Danielle was also the mother of his son. Sean’s son, not Dad’s. Sean is Derek’s son. It’s confusing, I know. Displaying a gift for vast understatement, advocate-depute Paul Kearney said that “it appears that Mr Graham being in a relationship with the accused’s ex-girlfriend was the cause of some friction.” No, I don’t know what an advocate-depute is either. But it sounds important.

Now, I’m not saying it’s OK for you to down a bottle of Glenfiddich and take a knife to the Old Man if he bangs your girl. I UNDERSTAND it, mind you; I just don’t condone it. As for you, Derek Graham – really. “Fishing off the family pier” never, ever ends well. And I’m sure that your constant references to “the size of that boy’s HEED” played a big part in fueling his anger. Sean, meanwhile, is out on bail.

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s another Hollywood actor cursing their child with a horrible name! Kal-El Coppola Cage. To paraphrase another famous comic book character – holy shit, Batman. I’m going to go out on a limb and declare this to be the absolute Best Worst Celebrity Kid Name Ever. My God! To take out your frustration on not being cast for a Superman movie that was sent to Development Hell years ago (non-geeks – this was Tim Burton’s “Superman Lives”, which Cage was slated to star in) on your child…it’s so amazingly narcissistic that it defies comprehension. It’s an act of evil worthy of Lex Luthor himself.

Not to mention irresponsible. Because, you know, what if Zod, Non and Ursa DO escape from the Phantom Zone? They’ll come to Earth and be all “WE SEEK KAL-EL” and “THE SON OF JOR-EL WILL KNEEL BEFORE ZOD” and soforth, and little Cage will be in deep shit. Hope the Cages put Kryptonite on their baby registry.

Proving once again that intelligence is not a prerequisite for parenthood, some Florida parents are shocked! and angered! that local school bus drivers are refusing to abandon their kids at bus stops. Apparently, an outbreak of common sense has struck St. Petersburg school officials, who are taking in kids whose parents don’t show up to pick them up from bus stops after school.

Insert your own “No Child Left Behind” joke here. Bravo to those school employees who’ve taken the time and initiative to do the right thing. There’s probably not a simple answer to this, although…what the hell? St. Petersburg parents – PICK UP YOUR KIDS, PEOPLE. And if for some reason you can’t (you’re homeless, incarcerated, or in the case of one Angela Young, a complete fuckwit), how about a simple “thank you for not allowing my child to be abducted or run over”?