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First-Time Father Annoyed by Infant Son’s Shitty Memory

By Billy Pilgrim, Toledo Tales Rogue Editor

Baby Quentin: "Dumber than a bag of rocks," according to dad

(Toledo, OH) Warren Dempsey had hoped to share a lifetime of hard lessons and private joys with his infant son Quentin, now six months old, and bestow wisdom with a humor and grace that his own father sorely lacked.

Much to Dempsey’s disappointment, however, his son’s memory is “far from stellar,” and sadly, the young lad can barely crawl, let alone retain his father’s expansive knowledge of the world.

“Let me tell ya, that kid can’t remember shit,” Dempsey huffed while sipping a piping-hot cup of coffee. “We’ve been through the presidents, the times tables—hell, I tried to keep this week’s flashcards easy, so we only did the Russian alphabet—but he just sits there and drools. The little fucker can’t remember any of it.”

Dempsey was especially annoyed by his son’s lack of cognitive engagement when it came to this weekend’s Superbowl.

“I’ve been a Colts fan ever since I was a kid,” Dempsey vented. “So for weeks I’ve been trying to teach Quentin the finer points of the game: man coverage versus a cover-two defense, how to statistically compile Manning’s passer rating, the deceptive power of the bootleg…I might as well be talking to a wall. I tried to quiz him on the way to the grocery store last night, and he just sat there in his car seat, oblivious, clapping off-beat to that goddamn Raffi tape.”

Raffi has been promoting ifantile imbecility since 1975Raffi: Promoting ifantile imbecility since 1975

And while Dempsey hopes his son will soon outgrow this rebellious anti-intellectualism, he harbors a growing fear that Quentin is already under the spell of peer pressure.

“I told Vicky [my wife] not to take him over to the McHugh’s place anymore,” Dempsey lamented. “Their little girl Hollie is 9 months old, and already I think she’s smoking dope. Every time I see that kid her pupils are dilated, and her motor skills straight-up suck. Quentin’s gonna learn the hard way—if he wants to live under my roof, he’s gotta follow my rules. Vicky may be a softy, but I have a zero tolerance for bullshit. Yes sir.”

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