Ok. This post may blow your mind but stay with me. I need to lay 
some foundation before I go on. What exactly is socialization? According to the world renowned Dictionary I have written,
Socialization is the process whereby a person learns the norms, cultures, or ways of life of his social position.
To put it simply (because my dictionary is for intellectuals), it's the process that you learn to fit into this world. As a child, boys are taught to be boys, and girls are taught how to be girls. Girls like pink. Boys like blue. Girls like butterflies and ponies; boys like tanks and food. That's socialization. We are taught how we are supposed to act.
Ok. Step aside from the sociology lesson. Let's get to the meat of the blog post. Socialization flipped.
In addition to my schooling, I have also been running a research facility, and I'm ready to present my findings. Along with my colleague Dr. Kemper, we have quite an interesting experiment we would like to share with you.
We took 250 infants, 125 boys and 125 girls, and we socialized them opposite of their gender. Boys would be socialized as girls. And girls would be brought up as boys. We started this experiment back in 1996. I was a ripe age of 7. I understood much (10 seconds of silence).
Anyway, back to the findings.
The boys were taught to love pink, talk like girls, cry whenever possible, and cook. On the other side, girls were taught to hunt, make fires, and watch football. Typical guy actions.
To get consistent results, both boys and girls had robot parents. This way the kids wouldn't be confused about gender roles. And we had some robots who wanted to adopt. So we hit 2 birds with one stone. Pretty good I think.
Now, many people, literally 90% of Americans, questioned if this experiment was ethically correct. As of right now, the kids are 12 year old freaks, to be completely honest. What are we supposed to do with them? Our experiment is over, and we're ready to send them back to their families. The boys love to sew and take baths, and the girls smell really really bad.
What kind of psychologist am I? What have I done? Well, next time...I'll never do this experiment. Yeah, next time. Now...where did I point those Doritos? Biggest Loser is about to come on...
You've waited long enough! Here's the chapter. Don't forget, there are previous chapters. Don't just rush into this one. Get caught up if you need to. The chapters aren't that long...ENJOY!
Untamed & Restless
Chapter 5
Blake, Benjie, and Mr. McConnell had been sitting around the table for 10 minutes waiting for mother McConnell to bring their dinner. No one talked. It’s a Jewish thing; you wouldn’t understand. You just stare at the other family member until a sound occurs, intentional or unintentional. Unbeknownst to the family, Mrs. McConnell had been sucked into another black hole just minutes before dinner. She currently was flying toward the Rings of Verbutem at 115 light-eons, pretty quick for a white girl.
The silence was broken by a knock at the front door. Benjie peered out the window and gasped. Could it be? How on earth did he find them?
On the front doorstep stood none other than grandfather McConnell. They hadn’t seen him for 20 years! Well, maybe 19 ¾ years, thanks to leap years. You see, 20 years ago something happened, something so horrible, grotesque, and vile that the family had to erase his memory entirely.
To put the situation simply, grandfather McConnell had become a hot-dog salesman who sold Baal idols. Wretched abomination. He also used his money unwisely. The latter statement threw the Jewish community into cahoots. Grandfather McConnell received immediate Jewish expulsion. This act brought a huge disgrace to the McConnell name.
So, there Benjie stood staring right at his grandfather. Grandfather half-stared at Benjie and half-stared at the brick wall; you see he had a laze eye. God’s punishment, I would assume.
“May I come in?” asked grandfather. The words rang sharply in the air. They floated upstairs and down. They took a quick stop in the bathroom, did their business, and then continued on. The words finally arrived in the dining room where Blake and his father sat.
Mr. McConnell recognized that voice. He rose from his chair and walked to the front door. Benjie was still staring. Technically, Benjie had no idea who this man was. He wasn’t even born at the time of grandfather’s debacle. But still he stared. Father came up behind him lightly putting his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“What brings you by dad?” asked Mr. McConnell coldly.
Grandfather opened his chapped lips to utter something but suddenly collapsed over the door threshold. The men stood in wonder. It was getting kind of late, and dinner was to be served soon. So, they slowly and awkwardly pushed grandpa’s body back outside leaving the body in a heap on the porch. They dusted off their hands and went back to the dining room. Where was mom? I mean, were they even going to get dinner? Sheesh.
They waited another 30 minutes in silence. No talking. Ahh, Jewish traditions.
Father McConnell couldn’t wait anymore. He ran to the freezer and grabbed his favorite TV dinner, Mutton with Barley loaves. And for dessert was a matzo ball brownie. Yummy. He plopped the plate into the microwave and waited. It finished seconds later. The stench filled the room.
Father brought the meal into the room and placed it on the table. They said grace…then, they actually prayed. Father blessed the mutton and barley loaves. He blessed his sons. He did not bless his wife. She had not prepared dinner. As they opened their eyes, there stood grandpa, lazy eye and all. Apparently in the process of closing the door, Mr. McConnell had shut the door on his grandfather arm.
Upon closer observation, it was the ulna that was severed. The bone shot outward the skin and pointed right at the family like a finger. He grimaced a little. Weird, blood was everywhere. Father motioned for grandfather McConnell to sit. He did so and set his arm on the table so all could see. He opened his mouth and began to tell his story. The table cloth faded from white to red...
Sock-sewing. Ahh, such a time of the past. Where are we now? All wrapped up with our fancy gizmos and gadgets. Iphones and toilets. Have we forgotten the ancient art of darning? Have we forgotten our heritage? I hope not. I look down at my sock right now, and a hole stares straight in my face. Defiant it is. This sock hole needs to be taught a lesson by Mother Needle.
So I decided to go on a quest. A quest to the South-American Andes...where darning began.
Rumor has it, a clan of middle-aged nuns inhabit a monastery atop the tallest peak. These nuns are no ordinary nuns. Besides wearing the typical black/white gowns and being excellent softball players, the nuns are darning masterminds! The great American darning ace, Jing-Lee Seung, was actually taught by the nuns (FYI Jing-Lee Seung has won 4 golden needles in past 2 Olympic games; just to let you know, I know you were dying to hear that).
So, I reached the monastery after a grueling 15-day hike. I walked up to the huge gopher wood door and knocked. My knocks echoed throughout the building. The door slowly creaked open, and an old lady appeared. I asked if this is where the expert darning nuns lived. She answered with a foreign sounding, "No you idiot, it's the monastery next door." I peered past the building I was at and saw the flashing lights of the "Incredible Darning Nuns of the Andes" blaring right back at me. Hmm, I must be the first foreigner to arrive. I'll make this quick. I don't to mess with their culture.
I walked up and paid my "tour fee," whatever that was. Gotta be something with their culture. Just do it.
Sitting in the dark sat all my idols. There was Rheja Sumada! She could cross-stitch a hole in 7 seconds flat! And there was Youhi Mefamo, she was the Queen's personal darner! I stood flabbergasted. Also, a little gassed. But that's besides the point. Those Andes enchiladas are deadly!
I mustered up the courage to ask a question. "Could I be your apprentice?" Seemed like a small request, right? Wait. Did she just nod her head?? I think she did. I jumped over the line ropes (another cultural thing). I started to darn.
And darn I did.
For the next 5 years, I learned. They taught me everything, and at the end of my tenure, I said my goodbyes. For some odd reason, they said nothing. Come to think about it, they hadn't said anything for 5 years (must be their culture).
I returned home and there sat my nemesis. The holey sock. Still defiant. Instantly, I sanctified that sock with a quick one two stitch and sat back. Victory....5 years of experience. Yeah! After a couple minutes, I looked down at the newspaper. Darning lessons for 5 bucks an hour. What?!?
The plot thickens! See what happens to the McConnell family in this turn of events...I present to you Chapter 4...haven't read the previous chapters. Take your time, catch up reading at your own pace...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Untamed & Restless
Chapter 4
Blake reached the top of the stairs, and walked to his room. The door was closed. Blake just stood there staring at the wood frame. Giddy with excitement, Benjie perched himself on the staircase. Benjie didn't have a room, he likened himself to a modern day hawkman. He had a nest and everything. He had let his finger and toenails grow out to about 6 inches. He was a literal hawkman. He would also occasionally preen himself when need be.
For the next 3 hours, Blake just stood there at his bedroom door. Benjie was getting UNTAMED & RESTLESS. I mean, who wouldn't? He was crouching in his nest for 3 hours straight. Think of the pain in the knees.
Blake had a reason for his unmoving self. He was reconsidering his world view. Pretty deep. Was life all about being Jewish? Yes, whatever Jews touch, becomes blessed. Things instantly become gold. Everyone knew that. But was he supposed to be Jewish?
Blake spun around and marched downstairs.
Just as he left, another black hole appeared and out popped wide-eyed Mrs. McConnell. She had just been to the end of the universe and back. She danced with Kalapogans, and speared giant Groygalls with the Sryjan fisherman. In 15 minutes earth-time, she had explored the universe for 5 years.
Glad to be home, Jean McConnell decided to go to clean Blake's room. Mrs. McConnell slowly opened her son's door. Benjie's trap was set in motion. The back up plan of Benjie's consisted of another black hole (the McConnell's really shouldn't have let Benjie take those "Witchcraft for Beginners" classes). Mrs. McConnell was again sucked in and sent to Nubulon 5. Here we go again...
Blake raced over to the computer and started searching the internet for a new religion. Tons of religions popped up. So many choices, so little time. Well, better try them out one by one. Process of elimination, am I right? He clicked on the first link. Buddhism. That link turned out to download a virus on his computer. Poopie. Start Virus-Scan. Blake waited 30 minutes. Virus-Scan complete. Whew. That was close. Thanks Windows!
Blake clicked on the same link. Virus downloaded again. Poopie.
Upstairs, Benjie was devastated. Could his brother Blake be immortal? Every attempt to kill off his brother was met with an amazing escape. Oh well, it was suppertime. His plans would have to wait. Benjie's stomach was grumbling as well as Mr. McConnell and Blake. Sometimes mom was just so lazy. How hard is it just to make dinner? Women.
But Benjie's thoughts were interrupted with a knock at the door. He peered out the window. He couldn't believe who it was.
America has tons of debt. Tons is too nice. Let's be real. Trillions of debt. So much so, you could fill Pluto with dollar bills and still have some money left over to create a small village economy. So, as Americans, what are we to do? After going on a 12-day fast, I found an answer. I really need food. So I ate some. Then I looked up on the internet on how to fix national debt. I received the typical information...
Return to anarchy.
Bring Lenin back to life.
Sell our government control to China.
Takeover Britain. Use it as farmland. Sell corn to France.
Or...create a Ronald Reagan Robot to bring back economic relief.
Of course, these ideas are typical. But people you're missing a very obvious solution. You just need to use your brains. Here's your solution: sell off North Dakota to the highest bidder. Now don't argue with me saying that this idea isn't feasible. Technically, it could be possible. Technically.
Have Obama say we're giving away some valuable land. See if he can hype up that North Dakota would be a great place for a colony. Countries just love that. And no. It's not so "1600ish." I'm sure it's still "in." Colonies are all the fad.
North Dakota's estimated value is about $750,000. Not bad. It's not much, but it's a start. Soon, we'll be on our way to saying "I'm debt free!!" with Dave Ramsey. Of course, we might lose California in the process too.
The moment you have all been waiting for! Chapter 3 of my first novel has been released. I know you all have been pulling your hair out in anticipation. In case this is your first time hearing about the novel, don't rush. You can catch up by reading in chunks. Here are the links to chapters 1 & 2. It's a thrilling novel. Don't get hooked and read it all at once!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Untamed & Restless
Chapter 3 
Thoughts raced through Blake's mind. What had just happened? Another failed attempt at a Bar Mitzvah? He had finished his Torah reading and was proud of his performance. But there were no girls wanting to peck kisses on his cheek. No praising from his parents. No friends to...well he had no friends, so forget that. No manhood awaiting him. He was trapped in the adolescence chamber, and the key lost in a haystack. And it was a golden key, so it would be pretty hard to find in the yellow hay.
The car turned into the driveway of the middle-class household. Benjie was antsy. Behind the front door awaited Blake's worst nightmare. This horror was Benjie's final touch to finish off Blake. Blake would be gone, and Benjie could take his rightful place as the only child. This dream had been around since his birth. Benjie had tried many different strategies of eliminating his brother: the "it's just a toy gun" approach, the "go into this mysterious gas chamber for me" approach, and even the "step in the fire and stay there to become a wizard" approach. All failed. Mom had always walked in at the wrong time. Bummer.
But this time nothing could go wrong. The family got out of the car, and as always, Blake would be first to enter the house. He was always first inside the house. For the past 25 years he had. Weird. But he had. It was "his thing." There was no reason behind this phenomenon.
But today...today was different. Blake stopped. Yes. In mid-walk. In mid-Jewish walk. And mother passed on the left! NASCAR fans would have been jealous. Father McConnell was a NASCAR fan. He cheered mostly for Jeff Gordon. Gordon recently announced his Jewish ties with Nicodemus the Pharisee. Many a Jew became a NASCAR fan that day.
So, Mrs. McConnell reached the door before Blake. Blake's attention had shifted toward the next door neighbor's house which was currently on fire. Oddly, no one paid any attention. Blake did for a few seconds then followed mom inside. I'm sure the fire department would be by.
Benjie's evil smile turned sideways into a face of horror as his mom opened the door. She took one step forward. Oh no! The trap was set for Blake, not mother! Mother fell into an a bottomless pit. And she was gone. Who would cook dinner?
Blake took another stop in mid-walk. And just stared. Where was mom? She was in front of him just two seconds ago. Maybe she went upstairs. Hmm. Well, better get working on next year's Torah reading.
The black hole sealed up, and Blake went upstairs. Benjie's mouth dropped. Another missed opportunity to get Blake. Luckily, he had a backup. And the backup would be unleashed as soon as Blake got in his room. Benjie slowly closed the door. Flames of the neighbor's house continued to burn in the distance as Benjie pondered his next move.
Mr. McConnell called for his wife to make dinner. He was looking forward to the matzo later that night.
I think the fountain pen is the next best thing to ever be invented. I will even argue that the writing instrument will be "hip" in the next 5 years. For the younger generation reading, hip is a word older people used to use to describe interesting products. The word has now been retired to history books along with bicycles and nutcrackers.
Anyway, junior highers all the way up to the highly paid executives will be sporting a new 150.00-5,200.00 pen. The Junior Highers will take out high-interest loans and grow up to be in-debt sweaty car salesman. And the executives will write the pens off as business expenses and continue to make millions. That's how society works.
Interestingly, the pen might equal the once favored palm pilot fascination. You remember those...not the iphone, not the ipod touch. I'm talking old school. The 3 inch-thick handheld cinder block we used to carry around. Yeah, the one that got the one hour battery life and then explodes. And we were suckers to fall for another poorly made American product. Palm, GM, what next? Not Microsoft....
Side note: you may argue that I pick on GM. I agree. I do. Ok, I addressed the issue. Let's move on from that topic forever.
GM can't build a reliable car for it's life. Ok. Forget that, I just said that to make you mad. We are talking about pens people! Pens! Highly priced pens that have no reason to be owned.
I saw in my favorite pen magazine called "Pen Magazine" that pen designers are releasing new pens that actually hold mini grappling hooks. Great. Now CEO's can make quick escapes from their offices when we try to catch them for committing fraud. While reading "Pen Magazine," I think I may have coveted. Yes, I know, it's a sin in 3 countries. I just saw a pen that could make McDonald's soft-serve ice cream. Amazing! You mean I can work on homework and ruin my cholesterol at the same time? Ah, America.
Literally, the pen will become the new pencil...people will flock. Pen's will be sold out everywhere you look. Willy Wonka will no longer use tickets, but Mont Blanc pens to invite children into his factory...
