Sometimes You Just Need Some Sam Jackson

So a friend posted this on FB this morning:

 

And I loved it instantly–as I normally do all things Sam Jackson.  He is my hero–and by hero, of course, I mean the characters he tends to portray:  the  foul mouthed no nonsense “I didn’t ask you a GODDAMN thing” kind of person.

So, as I have a few newbies, I thought I would repost a previous blogs share as to why I love Sam so much…

March 15, 2011

The Perfect Weapon

So, I’ve noticed a number of “hey jackass, shut up. My kid has autism” entries in the bloggy world lately. I suppose now that the snow is thawing, so are people’s manners, or lack thereof, so a few friends have had some not-so-pleasant encounters lately. I had one particularly good rant here a while back, but have since learned to just drink more and hold my tongue.
So I was talking to the Old Man about it yesterday, this prevalence of “you’re an eejit” posts, because he particularly liked Jen’s idea over at Living Life with a Side of Autism, about handing out cards to these selfsame asshats who feel they need to comment when your kid chooses to have a meltdown in the cereal aisle at Ralph’s. Just a simple card with the words: “My kid has autism. Don’t be a douche.” Then, because its’ the way he works, the Old Man said the same words in the voice of Samuel L Jackson–and my genius idea was born.What we need is an instant smoke bomb/Samuel L Jackson for situations like that. Imagine if you will…Little Billy has decided that the fact that all the cereal is not fronted properly, the coffee section looks like sasquatch has rolled through on a caffeine binge, and there are far too many poptarts on the SHELF and not in his MOUTH. Commence screaming. No amount of cajoling will help. Hell, even opening a box of poptarts, tearing through the mylar like a Weight Watcher’s member after meeting her lifetime goal, and presenting the sugary goodness that only red dye #4 can create doesn’t even scratch the surface. Your child can be heard over in produce, in the bakery, over by the Lottery Machine that no one even uses. Looks are cast. Guilt begins to set in. You want to crawl into a hole–preferably a sound-proof one with a full bar. You notice a few Frowny McWaggles whispering over by the oatmeal. And then Linda McSupermom and her brats Haley and Piper try to look like they are just nonchalantly buying some all natural no preservative pistachio flavored cereal, while they comment JUST LOUDLY ENOUGH that “that little boy doesn’t know how to behave in the grocery”

Ok. A saint would take a moment to educate this person on what Autism looks like, and how the sensory overload of the cereal aisle is sometimes too much for little Billy. A normal adult would either mutter under her breath and move on, or confront the lady and then refuse to make a statement as to how Linda got a black eye.

Here’s where my invention comes in. When you find yourself in this situation, you just pull the S. L. Jackson bomb out and throw it on the ground. Amidst the smoke appears Sam Jackson, in whatever role is needed for this situation. Example:

If people are just staring, if could be Mace Windu and his purple light-saber. A calming influence who would use the Jedi mind trick to fool the weak-minded into thinking you were never really there, and that they actually saw Jar-Jar-Binks over in dairy.

If you are facing the “Pick a little talk a little” ladies just starting to build steam, you might need Gator Purify from Jungle Fever to throw their coupons on the floor and start swearing on God and 4 white people. A sure-fire way to scatter suburban women in a heartbeat.

If that same group of ladies is starting to get bold, and look like they are going to try to offer you some advice or a lecture on effective parenting from the 1950′s involving spanking, grounding or electric shock, there is always Neville Flynn from Snakes on a Plane, to just start shouting about these Mother Fuckin’ People in this Mother Fuckin Store, and it should clear rather quickly.

Then of course, there is the ultimate: the Jules. And once he appears, curls and all, you will KNOW you are about to receive some judgement. It will be quite clear he is not there to give anyone a foot massage. And of course I don’t mean the Jules that decides he wants to be a wanderer while he delicately eats a blueberry muffin and eschews all pig products. I mean the “I don’t remember asking you a GODDAMN THING” Jules, who is about to open up a can of biblical whoop-ass on ANYONE who doubts his sincerity.

Of course, using the Jules is a one-time deal. Once you do, it would be a good idea to never enter that store again, no matter if they double coupons or have a sale on string cheese. You may wont to consider just moving to a new city. Or using the grocery delivery from Vons.

All in all, I think it would be an effective way to exit without issue, and without getting arrested for battery. And I doubt those women would ever trouble another anxious overworked parent again. So consider it a social duty. With cursing.

Categories: Autism, Snark | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “Sometimes You Just Need Some Sam Jackson

  1. Sam Heflin

    I LOVE the beejus outta you.

  2. You’re awesome

  3. Of all the ways I’ve imagined taking on the parenting critics everywhere we go, I’ve never thought up anything this good. YOU WIN AT SLJ BOMBS! I heart this so, so much. And, you would be very, very rich, because I would buy ALL the SLJ Bombs – especially during the holidays. As “presents.”

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