I saw a Verizon ad twice last night.  The first time had me incredulous.  The second time around my head exploded.

This Verizon ad was showing some telephone command center widget that had a screen, internet access, and a telephone while a modern day version of Jane Jetson whisked around  a kitchen replete with over priced stainless steel and cast iron appliances.  (Sorry, Ms. Kasten.  Your fridge is beautiful, but I am a flinty New Englander.) 

The enabling codependent Stepford Wife happily looks up the recipe for Paella on the internet and then races over to the six burner yuppie cast iron stove (I think, I was doing the crossword on take two), and pulls out the overpriced cast iron pot and starts glibly tossing in the ingredients for Paella like a modern day Snow White as parodied in the movie Enchanted. (A GREAT flick, by the way.)

Everyone has Paella ingredients kicking around the house, right?  Just what the fuck is Paella, anyway?

And then the good laughs turned nasty in my head.

Next we see this Jane  Jetson clone happily telling her brain dead teenaged son over the camera phone on the command center all excitedly that they are going to have Paella tonight, and that he better have a good appetite.

This acne-addled twerp does what any acne-addled twerp does.  He whines.

Only this is the whine of the man in charge.  It was something along the lines of “I don’t know what pa-eh … uh papaya or whatever tastes like but I am not eating it.”

That is where the fuse gets lit.

Now this Stepford Schtupp is next seen happily talking on the phone ordering a pizza.

Are you kidding me? 

Are you fucking kidding me?

Where was her outrage?  Where were some harsh words about it not being a democracy, and that Paella was the menu and that was that? 

Come on! Is that pain in the ass even carrying IN the groceries let alone fetching them or, perish the thought, PAYING for them?

There is absolutely no way that kind of conversation should ever take place in a household.    This is helicopter parenting at its worst.  Let the child dictate the dinner menu midstream?  Since when did being a parent become being a personal valet to these self absorbed little twits? Are not parents supposed to be FORMING these things rather than simply pandering to them?

Asking kids what they want for dinner every now and then?  Sure.  Absolutely. 

Letting them each select some sodium-laced frozen thing in the supermarket as a "Kid’s Pick dinner" that has all the yuppie granola types dialing 911 on you in the check out line while WWII geezers fondly recall Swanson TV Dinner night around the television and get what it is that you are recreating?  Damn right.  That’s how fond memories get made. 

Leftover night where it is every man for themselves to clean out the refrigerator and to give parents a night off?  Hell yes.  Food is expensive.

But harried Mom (or dad) in mid-meal preparation being talked to that way by the kid and then conceding to their request?  Slap the shit out of that parent for enabling such egocentric, self-absorbed teenage behavior and send the little bastard to his room without dinner, an iPod, or internet access. 

Give me a break.  And that ad seems to be exalting such behavior like it is a good thing. 

See?  Isn't technology grand?  You can look up recipes on the internet, and then when the ungrateful little twerp complains, you can immediately turn on a dime, drop everything, and look up a pizza place to pander to their every need.  You can cater to your child's every whim even as you make yourself dizzy chasing your proverbial tail in your kitchen!

I have a great story about the mother of a family of six who has long since passed away.  Those six were our "on retainer" babysitters when our children were young and my wife and I were hip deep in community volunteerism.  Meal time in this family, I imagine, became quite hectic and planning meals had to be a pretty challenging task. 

So there were some rather strict rules that large families require in order to keep from burning out the parents and destroying the marriage.  The children cannot always come first.  They grossly outnumber the parents.  I mean, come on, after two kids, parents have to go to a zone defense.  I know for a fact that the third child was the one that got me to raise the white flag of parenting surrender.

In this family, meal time was pretty straighforward.  Eat what was given you, or else.  That which the child did not finish on their plate was put into the refrigerator  and put before them at every successive meal thereafter until such time as the child ate it.

Now, that’s perhaps a tad harsh.  But compare and contrast that to a harried woman putting effort into a meal idea only to let an insolent child in need of proper molding get away with being an insufferable asshole while also dropping everything and catering to said asshole's request.

Now, I could, of course, be creating my own story that in no way jibes with reality. Perhaps Verizon will create a sequel to this story line concerning what happens when the child and the pizza are both at home. 

Perhaps the mother spits on the pizza or has the dog urinate on it and then beats him over the head with the phone before dialing 911 and reporting a justifiable homicide.

Perhaps she gets her son’s favorite pizza and lets it cool to room temperature so she can rub his face in it like Jimmy Cagney rubbing the grapefruit in the moll's face in the movie Public Enemy Number One before beating him over the head with the cardboard pizza box as she unloads 16 years of unbridled frustration on the insolent little shit.  Then the husband quietly goes to the Verizon command and control center and looks up mental health facilities. 

Perhaps she and her husband in a rare display of a united front sit before the kid and eat the pizza while he sits there with a cold bowl of Paella.  They then proceed to laugh at the punk when he races to the Verizon phone to call the Division of Youth Services to report their abuse.

I mean, the possibilities are absolutely endless, but only one thing is for certain.  In any sequel Verizon ad there should be a computer print out of several articles discussing teen emancipation procedures placed next to the child's Paella bowl for him to read over dinner before his parents have a little come to Jesus meeting with the insolent little twit.

-- 30 --

In the inimitable words of HW Bush as parodied by Dana Carvey, "Pander for ratings?  Not gonna do it.  Wouldn't be prudent."