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I’m raising a band of Little Sarcasticons. Defined term? Yes, yes it is. You can find it in the Kabala Book of Sarcasticisms. New chapters available daily. No longer must we be constrained in our sarcastic witticism production. Oh, no, …...

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Filed Under , on January 5th, 2019

Battle of the Sarcasticons

By Seth Kabala

I’m raising a band of Little Sarcasticons. Defined term? Yes, yes it is. You can find it in the Kabala Book of Sarcasticisms. New chapters available daily. No longer must we be constrained in our sarcastic witticism production. Oh, no, folks. Netflix has joined the charge with their resurrection of Mystery Science Theater 3000. With this show assisting as root cause, my children are training to create their own spin-off show. Recent example categories:

Yoga

On our return trip to the Midwest to visit family for Christmas, I was doing yoga on the floor of our hotel room. While I was striking the happy baby pose, Ella, 7, asked me what I was doing. I explained. Then Anna, 11, piped up and said, “You’re doing rabid baby?” Yes, that is what I’m doing, mimicking what happens to an infant after a wild animal attacks and bites. Hey, it’s not my fault that some babies lack the common sense to stay away from trash cans while raccoons are foraging.

Later, Will, 12, suggested I was doing “crappy baby.” This is also a viable candidate for a pose. When a baby shits its pants, it wants to announce this to the world. Thus, thrusting its legs into the air while on its back is an appropriate response to shit-bolstered fame seeking. (See also: George Carlin’s ever-seen-a-man-take-a-shit-running-full-speed bit.)

American Ninja Warrior

Later, we were watching America Ninja Warrior. After seeing many ultra bros fail hard, Will suggested they should re-title the show “American Ninja Failure.” I agree. At their core, all sports programs are 99% about losers. Give it some thought. I think you’ll agree. Screw winning. Instead, go for laughs.

And big balls. (See also: Wipeout.)

McDonald’s

I can only handle so much McDonald’s before I feel like I’m a junkie backsliding into a filthy, addictive habit. I’ve never been addicted to heroin or prescription opioids or meth or anything like that, but I am addicted to not being fat. That said, I looove McDonald’s’ double quarter-pounders with cheese. I would eat them every day if I could. Cheese that’s a couple molecules away from being stocked in the toy aisle as part of a Lego set, a bun that wouldn’t attract parasites if you poured them onto it out of a bucket, meat that’s fresh (I mean it actually is fresh and delicious)—what’s not to love?

When I bite into them, though, I feel like I’m indulging my taste centers as well as my fear centers. Like I can’t actually enjoy something without being reminded of its dangers. When I take a bite, I hear this sarcastic voice say, You know, you’re only 10,000 or so of these away from the paramedics cutting a hole into your wall to fit your fat ass through so they can haul your fat ass down to the ambulance. Eat up, Future Fat Ass.

Oompa Loompas

Amy was peeling carrots. One carrot was much smaller than the others. Amy said it was hard to hold onto it because it was so small. I said it looked like a baby penis. Then I had a better idea and said it instead looked like an Oompa Loompa penis. Amy and I plunged into a deep discussion about whether or not Oompa Loompas have penises. Are they male? Female? Both sexes in one? Do they spontaneously generate from the chocolate river? Chocolate as a love drug and also the creator of life?

We asked Will for his opinion. He said he couldn’t care less, but added that Willy found the Oompa Loompas in the woods somewhere. There’s no known history of Oompa Loompas procreating. They’ve always … been.

I said Amy should join me when I start a podcast. We would do a great morning show. Gourmet popcorn and Oompa Loompa penises. You get it all from us.

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Seth Kabala

About: Seth Kabala
Seth is an entrepreneur, writer, musician, family man, and juggler of balls--big ones. He lives with his wife and three children in Portland, OR.

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