The World According To Adam

A Note To All Of Adam's Fans

2008-02-20T16:20:00.003-06:00

Hello,

It's been a while since this page was updated, and I thought I'd update readers on why it hasn't had any new material in several months.

Adam passed away in Minnapolis in September. He was 30 years old. More information on what happened can be found here at the site where he and I both worked, TV Squad.

Adam's family wanted to keep his writing on the web in some way. He was too damn talented to just let all of his writings fade away or be put in a desk somewhere, where no one could read them. So we're going to continue his sites, with this being his official web site (which you can now access at adamrayfinley.com or the old raiseyourchildrenmywaydamnit.com). We'll keep it in blog form because we can easily update the page with new columns and stories from Adam for the coming weeks and months and years.

So please check back every week for new stuff from Adam. He was a special guy and we're happy to be able to share his work with you.

- Bob Sassone

About This Site

2007-09-03T13:49:00.002-05:00

Note: Adam started this blog, as he states below, as a humor site devoted to both funny child rearing "tips" and anything else he found funny. Now it has changed to a weekly updated blog of all things Adam, as explained in this post here.

***

This blog has been going for almost a year now, so I've decided to take a brief moment and explain what the point is.

Raise Your Children My Way, Damn It began as an idea for a book that would be a spoof of all the child rearing books saturating the market written by experts who think they know more about raising children than the parents themselves. The title popped into my head as a way of describing the philosophy behind those books.

I started to write different chapters for the book, but didn't think I'd be able to grab the attention of a publisher or agency by myself, so I decided to make it a collaboration. I contacted some writers I knew, and some writers I didn't know, including Kevin Murphy and Mary Jo Pehl of Mystery Science Theater 3000, who had each become published writers after MST3k had gone off the air. Long story short: the collaboration idea didn't work out, though many of the writers I contacted, especially Mary Jo, were very supportive of the idea.

So, with a bunch of these little "child rearing" essays on my computer's hard drive, I decided to create this blog so I had some place to put them. The guiding ethos is still to poke fun at child rearing experts and theories, though I'll often stretch the "reality" of this site to include pretty much anything I find funny.

The Podcast:

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast(subscribe on iTunes) is the official podcast of this blog, though it has absolutely nothing to do with the blog's content. It's the same style of humor, though, just a different type of outlet.

I hope this clears things up.

Thanks for reading, watching, and listening.

Adam Finley
Minneapolis
September, 2007

A word from one of our sponsors: Pussy Waffles

2007-09-02T13:08:00.000-05:00

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode Eight

2007-08-16T08:54:00.000-05:00

In this episode: Yoda gets on my last nerve, and other things happen.

On iTunes, or get the feed.

Direct link to MP3 file.

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode Seven

2007-08-12T10:44:00.000-05:00

In this episode: Bill Chamberlain and I talk about drugs and friendship.

On iTunes, or get the feed.

Direct link to MP3 file.

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode Six

2007-08-01T18:12:00.000-05:00

In this episode: the best idea for a children's book ever, and Winnie the Pooh woos another dame.

On iTunes, or get the feed.

Direct link to MP3 file.

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode Five

2007-07-22T19:28:00.000-05:00

In this episode Jim Bruce and I talk about everything. Jim is a member of the comedy troupe Trouser Shock, which can be seen on Stupidface on Fuel TV. Jim can also be heard weekly on the Paul Goebel Show podcast.

LEARN MORE, BILLY.

On iTunes, or get the feed.

The chimney's going to fall

2007-07-19T10:56:00.000-05:00

The chimney's going to fall.

iTunes.

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode Four

2007-07-11T23:17:00.001-05:00

In this episode: Winnie the Pooh's date, a terrible mermaid and Atlantic Starr. Also, I guess I lied about not putting up a podcast for a couple months.

On iTunes, or get the feed.

Everything Has a Penis

2007-06-15T17:41:00.000-05:00

Sex education should start on the Internet. Watch this with your kids:

Note: No podcast for the next couple months, but I'll be updating the blog.

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode Three

2007-06-11T20:12:00.000-05:00

In this episode, I read fan reactions to The Sopranos finale, and Ed McMahon offers to help out his fellow man.

On iTunes, or get the feed.

Dr. Phil speaks with his estranged father

2007-05-23T21:21:00.000-05:00

Bittersweet, this reunion:

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode Two

2007-05-21T16:03:00.000-05:00

Today I interview Fred Flintstone.

Download from iTunes.

Or, get the feed.

Buy my album and support this blog

2007-05-21T15:59:00.000-05:00

Details below:

Adam's Utterly Podcastical Podcast: Episode One

2007-05-12T16:10:00.000-05:00

It's finally here, my first podcast. More will follow.

In this edition, Bill Chamberlain and I discuss politics, film, musicals and sex. Also, a special visit from Spotlight, the Scat-Singin' Baby.

The audio quality will improve in subsequent episodes. This is a first try.

For mature audiences only.

Here's the MP3 file:

http://www.raiseyourchildrenmywaydamnit.com/aupp1.mp3

Even better, subscribe to the feed.

UPDATE: It's on iTunes now.

A Special Message from Paul Goebel

2007-05-06T13:15:00.000-05:00

Today, a plea from Paul Goebel:

Feed My Children

Note: This is the first time I've used someone else's material on this blog, but Paul's video fits perfectly with the blog's theme. He didn't make it for this blog though, his video has been around longer than this blog. Okay.

I answer your questions (4/7/07)

2007-04-07T18:00:00.000-05:00

Today's first question comes from M.Z. in San Antonio:

Hello,
My 3 year old son has suddenly become suspicious of his stuffed animals, referring to them as "those decepticons in toy box". He even went as far as stuffing a small toy lamb into a drink koozie and hiding it in his bookcase. He said he was imprisoned by the 'matrix'. My question is, how do I let him know that his toys are not out to get him and that he is not in fact Optimus Prime? Thanks.

M.Z.:

Make sure your son is not reading this over your shoulder.

Okay, now do exactly what I say: grab your coat and your car keys, walk calmly to your car, and drive away as fast as you can, because your son is a robot, and the moment he finds out you know this, he will collapse your skull like a Dixie cup and use your unctuous organ juices to lube the gears in his malevolent robo-brain.

Your son does not think he's Optimus Prime, he is Optimus Prime.

I cannot be certain what he's using his "decepticons" for, but it is quite possible he's using them to send messages back to his home planet, and has decided to use Earthling terms like "decepticon," "matrix" and "Optimus Prime" so suspicion is not aroused should any of his communications be intercepted by our government.

Please incinerate your harddrive after you read this message, put the ashes in a metal box, seal the box in concrete, and drop it into the ocean. This is not a normal robot you're dealing with. Your son is an advanced automaton and he has the power to reconfigure the charred remains of your harddrive and retrieve not only all the information ever stored in it, but any thoughts you may have had while you were within a twenty mile radius of it.

Do not speak to, or look at, anyone, anywhere, for the rest of your life, for they may either be robots working with your "son," or human brain-slaves under his control.

Best of luck, and have a wonderful Easter.

--Adam

Today's second question comes from Daniel in Detroit:

Dear Cursing Child-Rearing Advice Specialist,

I have been the proud owner of a 2007 model baby boy for several months now. So far it has run smoothly and gotten great gas mileage, but no one at the dealership (the employees insist I call it a "hospital") where I got my shiny new Andrew can tell me how often I should get it serviced. I have been noticing over the past few weeks that the baby sometimes makes alarm-like noises and has also been spewing out a lot of exhaust. I have likewise noticed some fluids leaking out. Where should I go to get the fuel injection system checked and where might I be able to find the dipstick?

Daniel:

It sounds to me like you received your baby from a less-than-reputable dealership. Any model made within the last five years should come with an iPod jack, and at the very least, a CD player.

While it is true that older models often encounter the fuel and exhaust problems you describe, that should not be an issue with your 2007 model. Babies today, through a combination of scientific engineering and natural evolution, are self-reliant, self-cleaning organisms that don't really even need parents. There are currently over 500 of these New Babies living on an island in the Indian Ocean. These advanced infants can communicate with one another, cook their own food, sign up for mobile phone plans and build spaceships.

Every year, hundreds of parents are sent to prison for "child abandonment," and we can blame our atavistic judicial system for wrongfully imprisoning these enlightened parents whose only "crime" is realizing they are not necessary in their baby's life.

In regards to your baby Andrew, my guess is that the dealership simply placed a 2007 body over him to hide what are insides most likely made in the late '70s, or possibly even the late '60s. I've even seen cases where a supposedly "new" child was actually running on a rudimentary steam engine. Your best option is to take him to a different dealership and have him completely inspected. If I'm correct in my assumption, you should be able to trade your baby in and at least get a new one at a reduced rate.

To answer your question, "where might I be able to find the dipstick?" I assume you're referring to The Dipstick, the all-night gay bar just outside Lansing. I'm not sure what that has to do with your baby, but a simple Google search should provide you with the directions you need. In the future, please refrain from asking questions that can be answered with a basic Web search. I get a lot of important questions and don't have time to do your work for you.

Regards,

Adam

Do you have a question about how to raise your child? Send your question to: childadvice@gmail.com

Famous Fathers: Hellmann, father of Hellboy

2007-02-10T18:59:00.000-06:00

Adam: I suppose fans already know everything about your son. What can you tell us about yourself?

Hellmann: Gosh, I don’t know, Professor Dipshit, maybe I just happen to be the founder of the Hellmann’s Mayonnaise empire?

Adam: What’s with the hostility?

Hellmann: My worthless son makes millions of dollars playing some kind of Cuban Goat Fireman or whatever the shit he is, and I don’t get one shred of recognition for my contribution to sandwiches? I tell you what: you and all your readers can call my fat, retarded son the next time your turkey on rye is too dry. Let’s see how much his Charcoal Fart Rifle or whatever the hell he uses in those damn comic books can make your sandwich more tangy.

Adam: So Hellboy never had any interest in the family business?

Hellmann: Oh, of course not. Get this: the kid wanted to start a fucking mustard business. I’m like, “Jesus, son, you got the Plochmans and the Frenchs controlling almost the entire mustard market, and you’re just gonna swoop in and make a mint?”
And who the shit makes mints out of mustard? That’s not going to make your breath smell any better.

Adam: I completely agree.

Hellmann: So he throws a big fit and starts going on about how he’s going to become famous some day playing a mumbling bipedal yak. That’s when I kicked him out of the house.

Adam: Have you spoken to him since then?

Hellmann: I’ll call him every so often and leave him messages.

Adam: That’s nice.

Hellmann: I’ll say something like, “no matter how popular you become, your father still thinks you’re a worthless pile of shit. Try working for a living like a real man. Suck my ass, Vagina Face.”

Adam: Does he appreciate the encouragement?

Hellmann: Oh, I’m sure he does. Every famous person had a father who treated them badly, just look at Jesus.

Adam: Oh yeah, his dad really let him have it. Do you think they still talk?

Hellmann: Well, I can guarantee you Jesus don’t sass back to papa no more. A few days on a cross can straighten anyone up, but times were different back then. My own father once caught me smoking behind the garage. He and my uncle riveted my hands and feet to the aluminum siding on our house. I stayed there for five days. When they finally let me down and asked if I knew why they did that, I was so insane from pain and hunger I couldn’t remember, so they re-bolted me to the house for another week. I never could remember why they did that.

Adam: You were smoking behind the garage.

Hellmann: No, I wasn’t. The point is: I had a healthy respect for my father. Even now when I think of him I collapse to the floor sobbing and vomiting for hours. The only thing my son ever vomited was a BLT he couldn’t choke down because he refused to have anything to do with the family mayonnaise. Seriously, a BLT with no mayo? That’s like screwing a chick without your dick. What are you supposed to use, a caulking gun? I can tell you from experience that women do not like that.

Adam: So despite the lack of acknowledgement, you think you helped shape your son into who he is today?

Hellmann: I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s squeezing industrial caulk into some poor lady’s hoola-hoo right now. All I know is that he’s not getting a single dime of my vast mayo fortune. If he has any sense, he’ll get that woman to a doctor right now and have those caulk babies aborted. I forgot your question, what was it?

Adam: It’s not important.

Hellmann: Buy my mayo. Tell your friends.

Adam: Okay.

Hellmann: You can just eat it out of the jar like pudding. Most people don’t know that. I discovered it shortly after my second wife left me.

Adam: I’m sorry.

Hellmann: Don’t be. She was a good woman, and her vagina gave me cans of Pepsi. She was actually a Pepsi machine, now that I think about it. When she stopped producing soda I told her no man would ever want her, so she left. Got about two feet and her cord came out of the wall. She’s still standing there, next to the lamp.

Adam: It’s so nice to finally hear your side of things.

Hellmann: Well, you don’t have to waste your life as my son did in the pursuit of fame and recognition. You can be like me and fuck soda machines while eating warm mayonnaise. People need mayo, and soda machines need cock. That’s always going to be true, no matter what.

Old Mother Hubbard: The Interview

2007-01-15T18:18:00.000-06:00

Adam: Tell me about your son, L. Ron.

Old Mother Hubbard: He wrote some fucking books. Started a club or some fucking thing.

Adam: Scientology.

OMH: Huh?

Adam: He’s the founder of the Scientology movement.

OMH: Yeah?

Adam: Yeah, it has a lot of followers.

OMH: I know about his stupid fuck cult. I just don’t give a shit. Fuck. Shit fuck. I give not a shit fuck.

Adam: I was hoping for some insight into his childhood. I wanted to see how a child’s mother helps to set him on the right path early in life.

OMH: Fine, whatever. Let’s talk about whatever fuck. I hate this stupid fuck interview. Nothing but fuck questions.

Adam: What was he like as a child?

OMH: He was like fuck. Played with his fuck toys. I cook fucked his fuck meals and tucked him into his fuck bed. He was a fucking fuck child, just like anyone the fuck else. There was nothing special about him.

Adam: Why are you randomly inserting the word “fuck” into everything you say?

OMH: That’s how we do it up here. It’s our way.

Adam: Okay.

OMH: Next fuck question, Fucky Fuckafoo.

Adam: I guess we’ll start with what you’re best known for.

OMH: Oh that rhyme about my dog?

Adam: Yes.

OMH: How I went to the cupboard and it was bare? So my dog had to go without a bone?

Adam: Yes. What was the symbolism?

OMH: There was none. That actually happened. I checked my cupboard for a bone, and there was none. Only later did I realize people don’t usually keep bones in any room in their house, including the kitchen.

Adam: What about archaeologists?

OMH: Do you know a lot of archaeologists?

Adam: No.

OMH: Then shut up. Anyway, in retrospect I made some bad choices that night. I tried to find a bone for a starving dog, which is rather cruel because a bone isn’t going to sate a dog’s appetite. It’s like giving a thirsty man a glass with no water.

Adam: So what happened to the dog?

OMH: I couldn’t stand to see him starve to death, so I killed him.

Adam: That must have been difficult.

OMH: Not so much “difficult” as “tiring.” I had to punch it in the throat about seventeen times.

Adam: It never crossed your mind to go out and buy dog food? Or to just toss him something from the fridge?

OMH: That’s easy to say from your perspective, isn’t it? It’s not so easy when it’s happening right before you and you have to make that split-second decision.

Adam: Let’s move on. Were there any other famous rhymes written about you?

OMH: The one about the dildo factory.

Adam: I don’t know that one.

OMH: Well, they weren’t called “dildo factories” back then. They were called “dickories.” We carved “marital aids” out of wood. That’s what they called them back then. People had sexual urges, but society demanded such feelings be repressed and kept in the dark. Still, we made good money. I worked in the hickory dickory. On weekends I loaded cargo ships on the hickory dickory dock.

Adam: What does any of that have to do with mice running up and down a clock?

OMH: Well, it had to be changed for little kids. I think originally the “mice” were “vaginas” and the “clock” was a thirteen inch double-headed dildo. You know, one of those where two women can each use one end? I like to use one of those solo and pretend there’s an entire man inside of me, his wang the only thing sticking out.

Adam: Was L. Ron around at this time?

OMH: Also, this man inside me is controlling my brain and motor functions, and he forces me to sneak out of the house at night and rape the neighborhood topiary. Something about getting in touch with the good earth from which his mighty wood-dick sprang.

Adam: Have you read any of your son’s books?

OMH: No, have you?

Adam: No. Did he seem like a natural leader?

OMH: What’s a natural liter? Is that metric?

Adam: What?

OMH: Well, to try and use your odd terminology, I guess my little L. Ron could be described as a faux pint. Maybe an invisible yardstick. Definitely not a plastic mile.

Adam: You’ve lost me.

OMH: I’m not the one who started this, fuck jerk. Frosty fuck flakes.

Adam: You’re right, I’m sorry.

Public Service Announcement from the National Food Dyslexia Foundation

2007-01-07T11:05:00.000-06:00

Interview with scientist Rand Orville

2007-01-04T16:55:00.000-06:00

I recently spoke with renowned scientist Rand Orville about his efforts to educate children about the wonders of both science and nature. After the interview you can watch a rough clip of Orville's upcoming nature documentary.

Adam: Why is it important for kids to learn about science and nature?

Rand: I don't know, maybe you should tell me.

Adam: Because if Jesus had combined his carpentry skills with science he could have fashioned some kind of rocket and escaped crucifixion?

Rand: You've been reading my books.

Adam: You wrote books?

Rand: No, but I came home the other night and someone had spilled grape juice on one of my books. Was it you?

Adam: No.

Rand: Okay, then.

Adam: I know you want to make the natural world fun and exciting for kids. Since the death of Steve Irwin, do you feel you're left with some pretty big shoes to fill?

Rand: Well, Steve and I are still in direct competition, even after his death.

Adam: Really?

Rand: Well, we never actually met, but when he was killed by that stingray, I was devastated.

Adam: We all were.

Rand: Yes, but I was upset because I myself wasn't killed by a stingray. I've been swimming with stingrays for ten years, trying to get them to kill me. Steve swims over a stingray just once and it's all over.

Adam: Why do you do this?

Rand: Because I'm clinically depressed.

Santa's Haunted Christmas House

2006-12-15T15:33:00.000-06:00

SPECIAL ADVERTISING SUPPLEMENT

2006-11-11T23:46:00.000-06:00

Hygeine: Teeth

2006-11-05T08:33:00.000-06:00

It is important for your child to adhere to a daily regimen of brushing and flossing before, after and during every meal. If this is not feasible, a child can be trained to swallow whole chunks of food open-mouthed without the food ever coming into contact with their teeth. Massage their throat as they swallow, and speak in calm, reassuring tones while wads of beef and baked potato slowly work their way down the esophagus. It is detrimental for them to panic during this process and send bile and half-digested food splashing over their teeth while they gag and gasp for air. Sometimes a child may have to eat the same boiled carrots seven or eight times before they figure out how to swallow properly.

While I consider it atavistic, many people forgo my economical “gag suppression” style of dental care and instead use “dental cream” or “toothpaste” to clean their teeth. If your child must use toothpaste, choose a brand that contains fluoride, a whitening agent, a “blackening agent” inhibitor, and an acidic uvula cleanser. The child should also use waxed floss to remove particles from between teeth, and unwaxed floss to remove the wax left over from the previous flossing. A fluoride rinse is also recommended to keep teeth strong and resilient. Well-maintained teeth should be able to withstand all agents of tooth decay that affect young children, including repeated blows with a meat cleaver and several pointblank rounds from a 9MM carbine tactical rifle shot directly into the child’s mouth.

Don’t be wooed by expensive gadgets that promise more than they can deliver. Water piks, electric toothbrushes and the two-in-one pneumatic jaw separator and fluoride injector are just fancy gadgets designed to drain your pocket book. I have never had a cavity in my life, and I own only one toothbrush which I’ve filed down to a sharp point and use to fend off beavers while I chew on tree bark, a method I’d used to keep my teeth clean until I inadvertently inhaled about six hundred spider eggs and spent several days under anesthesia while my organs were de-webbed. I would have rather gone to a hospital, but the park ranger insisted he take care of me himself.

If I learned anything from being unconscious in a hammock while a park ranger / part-time square dance caller applies a lint roller to my exposed viscera, it’s that we spend too much time telling our children to brush their teeth, and not enough time telling them how to do it properly. Simply, the child should hold the toothbrush in both hands and brush their teeth in slow circles, gently massage the gums, bow to their partner, promenade left then promenade back again. Next dance is lady’s choice. Let’s hear it for Rod on banjo, today’s his momma’s birthday. Everything you and your child need to know about proper dental care was revealed to me as I drifted in and out of consciousness during a Sadie Hawkins barn dance. Thoughtful people might think it wiser to learn such things from a licensed dentist, but the truth is that dentistry has been a sham since it first came into popularity among nomadic tribesman who would charge benighted peasants as much as twelve bags of silver to rub bison spittle across their teeth with a pinecone.

If you choose not to follow my suggestions, the second best option is to contact your family medical doctor. MDs know everything about the human body, teeth included. They also have access to special medical toothpaste that can prevent against rare but deadly mouth conditions such as parasitic gum crabs: deadly parasites that feed on gum tissue and describe disturbing surgical procedures and scream offensive racial slurs in tiny resonant voices only the infected person can hear.

Faith and Religion Part III: The Afterlife

2006-10-29T16:45:00.000-06:00

All religions deal with death in some way, but making your child understand the concept can be difficult. The death of a pet, thankfully, is a perfect starting point for this kind of discussion. In most cases, a child will lose a pet before they lose a close family member. You can increase the chances of this happening by buying a pet that is guaranteed not to live longer than a few months, like a goldfish or an injured kitten rolled in bacon grease.

When you broach the subject, do not begin with death itself. The inevitability of death is a terrifying notion for a young child to comprehend. Instead, engage your child by showing them how fun and interesting a skeleton can be, especially a giraffe skeleton, which can be used as a scarf rack or a kind of escape scaffold for a treed kitten. Also, its legs can support several hammocks at varying heights, making it perfect for slumber parties. Let your child know that when they die it is quite likely those they left behind will use his or her skeleton as some kind of percussion instrument, or wind chime. This is not out of disrespect, but rather a celebration of their soul and spirit moving to another plane. Or ascending to heaven. Or being reincarnated into a new life form. Really, you could tell your child when they die they’ll spend eternity in a world where everything is made of chocolate and flying whales crap pink helicopters out of their eye sockets. Kids will pretty much believe anything.

Let’s assume your child’s dog has died. Unless your child has been raised Buddhist, the permanence of death will not be easy for them to contend with. That is not to say that raising a Buddhist child is easy. A Buddhist child will often smile at inappropriate times and be generally smug and annoying until you just want to smash the little bastard in the face with a lamp.

What the child will see when they look at their dog is not the decaying vessel of a freed spirit, but rather a friend and companion they will never be able to play with, or confide in, again. You can concoct some vague concept like “dog heaven,” but I would not recommend it. Once you’ve planted the notion of a specific “heaven” for one animal, you’re going to have to do the same for all creatures. This may not seem like a big deal, but there are over a million species on this planet and new species of insect are always being discovered. It’s not a journey you want to embark upon, unless explaining what the insect order Mantophasmatodea considers eternal paradise seems like a constructive way to spend time with your child. I will submit that it is not.

Our idea of what heaven is changes considerably as we grow older, and often reflects our terrestrial, and finite, perception. When I was five-years-old I thought of heaven as a tropical paradise with coconut trees and deep, unclouded lakes. Now I realize how foolish and simple-minded this concept is, and that they’re most likely banana trees, not coconut. Jean Paul Sartre once described Hell as “other people,” which means heaven is people you haven’t met yet. Belinda Carlisle sang that heaven “is a place on Earth,” which, if true, means Belinda Carlisle will never die. This cannot be, however, because someone, somewhere, envisions heaven as a never-ending Go-Go’s reunion concert, and if Belinda Carlisle is spending eternity on Earth like some kind of mildly sexy vampire, then that person’s idea of the afterlife can never be realized. The works of both Sartre and Carlisle have confounded theologians for ages, and ultimately they prove that heaven is a concept far beyond our understanding.

This kind of non-answer will not satisfy a child though, especially one who has lost a pet. You can appease you child, however, by using their natural inquisitiveness against them. For example, if your child asks what happened to their beloved dog, you reply: “He went to the most wonderful place imaginable. By the way, how many times a day do you think Aquaman uses the bathroom? I think he just urinates while he’s swimming around in the ocean. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure that’s okay. Have you been doing that to the ocean, young man? Answer me!”

If you say this forcefully, and with enough conviction, your child will have no recourse but to answer for himself, even if your family lives in Wisconsin and has never been to the ocean. In 1982 my own father skirted the issue of heaven and the afterlife by suddenly and inexplicably blaming me for the death of Leonid Brezhnev. To this day, I have no memory of ever having a pet, but rather a nagging uncertainty as to my whereabouts on November 10, 1982. If you can achieve the dual task of squelching your child’s fear of death while simultaneously instilling them with a vague yet deeply ingrained sense of guilt that controls every major decision they make in life, then you’ve already achieved what would normally take several years of Sunday school.