It’s a familiar story for rich NYC folk.
It starts with a tubby young rapscallion’s whiny demands for a Kinder Surprise (But the toy! It’s got a fucking toy!), becomes a twelve year-old tinker-tits ramming Jimmie Dean’s “Pancake N’ Sausage On A Stick” down his gullet like a Vivid contract girl, and ends with a Exeter-bound douchebag demanding breast reduction surgery.
As a recent NY Times article points out, more and more males ages 13 to 19 are going under the knife in order to avoid the mockery that tends to accompany luscious, luscious male breast meat. The piece in question tries to lay the blame on our modern body-conscious society, hormonal imbalances, hip-hop, illegal immigrants, and the obesity epidemic.* To wit:
“…Adolescent boys also no longer have the patience to outgrow a little breast puffiness. Boys these days are much more in tune with trying to look good, to try to look like the models on the covers of the fitness magazines.” (No homo. Just in case.)
Nowhere in the article is it asked why these kids have developed all these booby hormones, or how they developed fun bags larger than the pair on the last girl I hooked-up with.
The reason is quite simple. The proliferation of breast reduction surgery among thirteen year-old boys with lush B-cup boobies is the fault of rich NYC parents. You have failed miserably at life and should be impaled on the flagpin of the 7th hole of your shitty country club in Rye.
Your kid looks like the fat guy in P.M. Dawn. That ain’t hormones….that’s Hostess.
Stop coddling the rich hunk of shit, tell him to stop stroking it so much, and send him out to run in the Park so I can make fun of him.
*Some of these might not have appeared in the article, but, c’mon, I can read between the lines.