This song just came out of my son's face:
"Mama Mia, Papa Pia, Baby's got a diarrhea."
Upon hearing this my mind became overwhelmed with irritation. Yes, I have sung this song before; I have sung different and far more offensive versions of this song. The interesting thing though, and once again, this is to my recollection: I DON'T BELIEVE I TAUGHT MY KID THIS SONG.
I believe it is my destiny to find the kid that did.
He took what was mine.
I mean, I was robbed. This song is like handing down your grand pop's pocket watch that he kept protected in his asshole through the war.
That kid stole this from me like the hamburgular and hamburgers..and now I must find him/her.
I happened to communicate this information to my brother, Carlos.
This is Carlos.
He gave his dissertation for his PhD in "'Shut the Fuck Up' Can Save The World". He always finds a great twist on every situation. "Look, kids sing this song to each other. These are the lyrics to the easiest song in the world! Shit happens, dude. Shit happens. I'm sorry man. I know you got robbed. If I ever see that kid I am going to put him through a wall o.k.? But first I'm going to grab his little hands and force him to hit himself and then I'm gonna ask, 'why are you hitting yourself? why are you hitting yourself'"
This man should become a negotiator; you know, like in that film, The Negotiator?
He can diffuse any situation with some sprinkled profanity and garnish with threats.
I forget how irritated I am with the little thief who taught my kid the diarrhea song because I have the hilarious visual of my brother raining down on him.
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