cowboy2

I live in a fairly conservative area, but it seems even we’re not beyond the reach of the limp-wristed arm of political correctness because last week a teacher at my daughter’s summer daycare casually mentioned that her class was banned from playing cowboys and Indians because it’s “racially insensitive.”

Aside from dodge ball, when I growing up this was my favorite game, and now that I have kids, I still love to play it with them.

As always, I’m the noble cowboy while those lazy little savages are the Indians. In a typical scenario I arise before dawn and creep up to one of their rooms. Inside they’re lethargically dozing, probably still drunk, but not me.

I’m as sharp as honed steel, and just as the sun rises over the horizon I explode through their door.

As they scramble in terror and try to flee I fire my cap gun into the air and let out a furious war whoop before lassoing them and hog-tying them in the middle of the floor.

Then I go downstairs to have a well-deserved breakfast of beans and cornpone.

After a while they usually work their way free and proceed to come downstairs to cry and whine to their mother before threatening to call child protective services, but I don’t really see how threatening to take my awful kids away from me is a threat.

Plus, as bad as I am, they know I’m still slightly better than a foster home.

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