Gus Muldoon's Infamous Seldomly-Updated Blog

Once again, high school football is under attack by lame-brained, limp-wristed, lily-livered pantywaists who believe that anyone who straps on a jock is taking the first irrevocable step toward an inevitable, premature departure from this mudball called Earth. The latest anti-jock rhetoric comes in the wake of the death of New Jersey high school senior quarterback Evan Murray, a tragedy that followed the deaths of two other high school athletes in recent weeks, Ben Hamm from Oklahoma, and Tyrell Cameron from Louisiana. With three kids gone to meet their maker in as many weeks, it's only natural that over-protective parents throw a hissy hit over the glorious American institution that is high school football. However, this anti-jock fervor is nothing more than contemporary culture's latest attempt to neuter the American male-- a project that has been going on for decades, as part of the left-wing agenda to transform red-blooded American boys into sniveling wimps who would ...

If you're the parent of an ugly baby, you've probably been asking yourself lots of questions ever since your bouncing bundle of shame came into this world. Questions like, "Is this some sort of punishment from God?", "Should I leave him in a dumpster?" or "How much can an ugly baby fetch on the black market?" These types of questions are perfectly normal. The only thing that's abnormal is being the parent of an ugly baby and acting like you have the cutest, sweetest, or prettiest baby in the world. That, my friend, is mental sickness.  When my oldest son was born, I was asking the same questions myself. I fell to my knees and raised my arms to the heavens, asking, "What have I done to deserve this?" In the delivery room, I pleaded with the doctor to put him back in because he didn't look quite done yet. When that didn't work, I waited until no one was looking and tried to swap him with a better-looking baby from the hos...

I've seen some disturbing things in my life.  I watched a mortar shell blow a hole the size of softball in my buddy's head in Korea.  As a gym teacher I watched a fat kid lose his grip while climbing the rope, causing him to slide all the way to the ground, resulting in a rope burn that made his chubby thighs look like ground hamburger.  I've seen men die, I've seen freakish injuries.  I even watched a Sara Jessica Parker movie once.  But nothing is more disturbing, in my opinion, as children's beauty pageants. Sweet fancy Moses, if you think that it's normal to dress up your five year-old like a dadgummed hooker, then you need to have your head examined.  And not just any shrink will do, my friend.  You need one of them fellas with the white pointy beards from Vienna.  You need the kind of headshrinking that can only be accomplished by a jungle witchdoctor from Borneo. No, it's not the children themselves who are creepy (they only look creepy...

Earlier today I took my five year-old grandson to the local playground and was looking forward to showing him how to climb on the monkeybars.  I was aghast when I discovered that the monkeybars had been taken down years before, all because some kid fell and cracked open his noggin like a ripened coconut.  Maybe children these days have softer heads, I don't know. When I was a boy I had climbed all over the monkeybars and fell numerous times, and I turned out just fine.  These days, parents coddle their kids so much that if they get a scraped knee they get taken to the emergency room for a full battery of tests.  If this continues, in a few years our nation will become one inhabited by a bunch of sissies. You see, kids need to grow up believing that they are strong enough to handle all of life's hardships.  Kids need to be made aware that mama's not always going to be around to kiss their boo boos. Fortunately, my parents were keenly aware of this and they ...

Do you dread having the "talk" with your kid?  You know the one I mean.  I'm referring to that special moment when you explain to little Johnny or Suzie how babies are made.  Well, buck up and put your big boy pants on, Nancy. There's not much to it, to be honest.  My daddy didn't waste his time giving me a flowery speech about feelings and intimacy and romance and all that gobbledegook.  He simply came into my bedroom one day and dropped a stack of Playboy magazines onto the bed and said, "Here. These will tell you all you need to know."  And, by gum, he was right! Of course, this same method doesn't work on daughters.  As a father, you hope that your son will grow up sowing his seed like an Amish farmer on a cocaine binge.  Daughters, on the other hand, are a different story.  You don't want them associating with boys like the kind of boy you want your son to become. In order to instill a fear of sex into your daughter, the best thi...