Claw Your Way To The Bottom

It’s happened again. Another kid got stuck in a claw machine.

claw

I think it was England or thereabouts but it doesn’t matter if this was Mars because it’s one more time than it ever should have happened. Same applies to last time. And the time before and the time before and, well, you get the idea. In fact any time after the very first time is one too many. I mean, I’ll give you one. One time. Just so we can have something to talk about and recollect. “Hey, remember that kid that got stuck in that claw machine that one time?” “Yeah, that was sick, yo!” Now it’s all, “Daaaamn. Another kid got stuck in a freakin’ claw machine. Are these dudes messed up or what?!”

It really is getting to the point that we need to react not with amusement or scorn but with the cold discipline of logic and once a child crawls into a claw machine we systematically spay and neuter the parents, seal up the claw machine and ship it off to a special island or facility where the child can be adopted by people who can instill a modicum of common sense. Once there, we can raise all the claw machine children as a special army or workforce or volunteer corps or whatever the hell society needs most – and, hey, before you protest with cries of slavery or injustice amid the throes of whatever liberal guilt or political correctness that grips you just understand that whatever fate befalls these claw machine moppets it will be a damn sight better than anything that awaits them as children of parents who ALLOW THEIR DAMN KIDS TO CRAWL INTO CLAW MACHINES!

Seriously. Let’s just stop this crap before social services gets involved.

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