Q: What do you get when you cross Jon and Kate Plus 8 with the ‘balloon boy‘?
A: I don’t know, but I wish Jon and Kate would go up in a similar balloon and it’d somehow crash or they’d fall out and die or something. Kidding, I don’t want them to die. Kidding about kidding, they can die, I’d be fine with that.
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Q: Why did Falcon Heene, the ‘balloon boy’, cross the road?
A: He didn’t, he was in the attic napping. Kidding, he wasn’t napping, he was hiding in a box and preparing his notes for his interview with Larry King because “Daddy needs to draw project investment capital” somehow.
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Q: What do you get when you cross a hundred million blog entries that say, “I’m glad the kid’s alright…” followed by an exposition on parenting?
A: A whole bunch of blogs I have to skip through because I hate blog posts about kids and parenting. Why can’t young parents stick their kids in a jolly jumper in the other room and quietly smoke in the kitchen until they have a nervous breakdown like all of our parents did instead of talking and writing about things?
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Q: How many ‘balloon boys’ does it take to keep your homemade balloon aloft?
A: I don’t know, but you’d probably want to use at least a half dozen as expendable ballast somehow. (Or maybe to drop as bombs while you pretend you’re a WW2 bomber flying over Dresden with a broken tail rudder. “Tsoo tshoo tshoo crrrrpewww booooom! Take that, Nazi infestation!”)
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Q: How many new-age parents does it take to prove that building a balloon capable of lifting people in their backyard isn’t a good idea when they have a bunch of kids running around without their chains on?
A: Like, two. And what the fuck’s up with naming your offspring ‘Falcon’? Did you both bang your heads in a car accident and you just decided to name your kids with whatever picture was on the cover of the National Geographic magazine you read in the hospital waiting-room before you went into delivery? (Thank God he wasn’t named, ‘Aboriginetits’.) Or did you put a bunch of random nouns in a hat and keep drawing them until you got one that your numerologist figured would work with whatever was the arbitrarily derived year number? Fucking hippies.
Excellent! Your WW2 bomber flying over Dresden with a broken tail rudder reference made me shoot stuff out of every orifice. By the way, you now owe me for an office chair cleanup.
I would think the point of being called “Falcon” would mean you were BORN TO FLY. As in, get in the balloon, Not cower in the attic for hours letting the balloon go without you. Silly boy.
I wonder if iTunes chart single sails. Did Nena’s “99 Red Balloons” or the Fifth Dimension’s “Up, Up, and Away (In my Beautiful Balloow)” have sales spikes the other day?
I call “attention whores / publicity stunt”.
This post should either get you a Nobel Prize or a one way ticket to Hades. Either way, funny stuff!!!