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Month: May, 2012

Baby Mensa

by Melissa Chiasson

Are you a well-off white person with a baby?

Do you believe your baby is the smartest baby to ever walk the Earth?

Do you have enough disposable income to spend hundreds, nay thousands, of dollars on some bullshit organization that will vet that your baby is indeed smart using techniques that are dubious at best?

If you answered “yes” to these questions and then blabbered on about how your baby is so fucking smart, I invite you to submit an application to our illustrious society for only the smartest babies, Baby Mensa.

We’ve taken the self-involved faux-intellectualism that defines adult Mensa and adapted it for your child! Hide all of your crippling shortcomings and insecurities about not being good enough by living vicariously through your “genius” infant.

Baby Mensa consists of monthly meetings where your babies will flail impotently in a holding pen while you sip cocktails and have conversations with other parents about how the American education system is deeply flawed (and how your goddamn smart baby will never be exposed to it, am I right?). Each meeting culminates in a presentation from a preeminent scholar in the childhood development field or from some woman who tells you that by feeding your kid a diet of organic fish oil and goat’s blood, he or she will become invincible.

Not only will your baby be invigorated by all of this mental stimulation and goat’s blood, you can impress all your friends! Roll up to the playground for your morning playdate and ask benignly what the other mothers are doing to keep their children intellectually active. Try to hide your smirk as they tell you that they’re watching Baby Mozart and thinking of starting Spanish lessons. Then tell them how Baby Mensa has opened intellectual frontiers for your baby by letting him or her interact with other babies with IQs of 130 and up. When the other mothers question the validity of an IQ score for a baby who can’t even read or talk, walk away. You’ve just won, my friend.

The application process is simple. Fill out an application form, making sure to note your baby’s biggest intellectual achievements (multiple languages, recently published books, Nobel prizes) and have your child draw a factually accurate picture of a dinosaur of his or her choice.Then put that in a suitcase full of money and drop it off at our offices. If you don’t hear anything from us, your baby unfortunately didn’t meet our stringent standards for intelligence. If you do hear from us, congratulations! Your baby might just be smart enough, and for only $20,000 more, we will administer an IQ test to see if your offspring can join the distinguished ranks of Baby Mensa. For those who don’t make the cut the first time, feel free to submit an application as often as you would like.

As the Hollywood classic Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2 taught us, infant intelligence is not to be trifled with (and almost inevitably leads to crazy hijinks and dirty diaper jokes). Let Baby MENSA help your baby achieve his or her potential by feeding off of your money and neuroticism.

And your love for your child.

And your money.

Songs with Titles That Aren’t True or Require Qualification

by River Clegg

“Baby Got Back” — Not always.

“We Built This City” — No. The band Starship did not build any cities.

“What a Wonderful World” — Probably for some people.

“Love Me Do” — Grammatically unsound.

“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” — This really hinges on how close you are at the time to a milkshake or drugs.

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” — Nope.

“Larger Than Life” — The title of this Backstreet Boys song doesn’t make sense. How can something be larger than life? What does that even mean? But try pointing that out to Melissa Richards when you’re dancing to it together at the 8th grade prom. Suddenly she doesn’t want to make eye contact and has to get home soon.

“Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony” — There is no historical evidence of the other four.

“Video Killed the Radio Star” — That depends. If you’re talking about the popular 1930s radio personality Eddie Cantor, it was a heart attack.

“This Land Is Your Land” — If you own it, I guess.

“It Was a Very Good Year” — Actually, there has only been one very good year on record so far. It was 1991, when Super Nintendo came out.

“She’s a Lady” — Not if you’re talking about Melissa Richards and staying with your prom date regardless of whether he forgot to shower that day and “smells funny” is something a lady is supposed to do.

“Walk This Way,” performed by Aerosmith and Run DMC featuring Cap’n Crunch — No such version of this song exists. But how cool would that be!

“I Will” — Over my dead body.

Kate Zimmerman, Will You Marry Me and if Not, Is Your Sister Seeing Anybody These Days?

by Jordy Greenblatt

Kate, the last two years have been the best of my life. I was in free fall when I met you but now I feel like, for the first time in years, I have two feet on the ground. I don’t want too much out of life, but I need someone like you to make it complete. What I’m trying to say is that I couldn’t imagine myself without a Zimmerman girl in my life, preferably you.

I brought you here to your family’s favorite restaurant to ask if you will do me the honor of giving me your beautiful hand in marriage. But if not, I also made a reservation for tomorrow night under Megan’s name. So, Kate, will you either make me the happiest man on Earth or else leave a post-it note on your sister’s door when you get home telling her to call me?

I just don’t want you to feel pressured. I love you so much but I won’t be crushed or angry if you say no. I won’t post dirty pictures of you online or slander you to our friends. I won’t delete you from my contacts or burn your love notes. I will just calmly and quietly go back to the apartment, pack up all my stuff into my duffle bag, and move it to Meg’s room on the third floor.

I remember the night we met like it was yesterday, every single detail. It was Ben Wilson’s holiday party and you wore that beautiful flowing purple dress you love with a white flower in your hair. The moment I saw you, I knew I had to be with you. Incidentally, I also remember that your sister was wearing a bright green blouse and a nice frilly plaid skirt. I guess I should add I also knew that, if I couldn’t be with you, I had to be with her. But I was much more taken with you.

If you’re not ready to get married, though, please don’t tell her I said that.

I went up to you nervously and said, “If I weren’t so hopelessly shy I would totally ask you for your name.” You laughed and replied, “If you weren’t so hopelessly adorable, I wouldn’t tell you.” Sure it was corny, but it felt right. Then we talked for an hour and a half and finally I worked up the courage to kiss you under the mistletoe and you said you thought it was ironic that two Jews would have “the WASPiest first kiss in history.” It was a magical evening.

Then you went to say goodbye to a friend and I chatted up Megan for a while. That was also magical, but less so.

We went to your parents’ house for your dad’s birthday two months later and I got to meet your wonderful family. We played scrabble and I argued with your dad about whether Casablanca was better than the Maltese Falcon until 1 in the morning! I went to shake his hand when I left but instead he gave me a big hug and invited me to come back for dinner that weekend. I wanted nothing more than to be part of your family. One way or another, I plan to make that happen.

I just want you to be happy. If that means spending the rest of your life with me, I will be overjoyed. I will be a loving husband and an endlessly loyal friend for as long as I live. I will be a great dad for our kids when we’re ready for that but you will always be my first love. I would fulfill every crappy love song cliché just to see you smile. So, Kate, please say yes and continue bringing meaning into my life the way you have every day for the past two years. But if not, I’m more than happy to set you up with my brother.

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