I Am Better Than Your Kids Read online

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  Mary, age 6

  What is this? A cat or a dog? Trick question: it’s kindling.

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  Meigha, age 4

  I’ve never seen anyone who had HIV sores, and if this drawing is any indication, it’s absolutely terrifying.

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  Joshua, age 1

  This sucks the biggest donkey dick in the known universe, and some in multiverses we have yet to discover.

  F-

  Suzi, age 6

  The assignment was to draw a coin. You traced a coin and drew a winking spoon.

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  Julie, age 5

  It doesn’t take a paleontologist to conclude that this dinosaur’s diet consisted mostly of dicks.

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  Nathan, age 6

  This is either really bad, or really modern.

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  Kami, age 6

  “Hi, I’m a giant joint. Bet you weren’t expecting to find me in a kindergartner’s drawing, and yet, here I am.”

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  Shelby, age 5

  This was sent to me by Shelby’s father asking for my opinion as a professional art critic, as I am most certainly that. Shelby and her mother disagree with her father’s assertion that cats don’t have chicken legs. This has not, and will never be up for debate because anything after the word “chicken” in the sentence “a cat has chicken . . .” is false. Shelby’s father has won the battle, but lost the war, because his wife and daughter are imbeciles.

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  Mac, age 6

  I’m sure your electoral base will appreciate your campaign pledge to dress up like a ninja and shoot machine guns at campaigners while they say “hi, hi, hi.” You’ll probably get a good majority of the “fuck it” vote—mine included.

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  Chrystal, age 5

  Any doctor who attempted to put this implant into a woman’s chest should have his face aborted.

  F-

  Mac, age 6

  You can’t decide what to do yesterday unless you have a time machine. Also, the only people that call it a “Sega” are parents. Sega is a company that makes games. You play games, not companies. That’s like saying you watched a movie on your “Panasonic.” Panasonic what? TV? Bluray player? You’re not sixty, you’re six. Get with it.

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  Randy, age 6

  If you want a child to get over his speech impediment quickly, don’t correct him when he says “shic-r-shit” while trick-or-treating on Halloween. Nothing fixes lazy enunciation faster than asking for candy and getting a sack of shit instead.

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  Todd, age 6

  You have managed to take crappy drawings to the third dimension. That is, you are using the requisite red and blue colors for 3-D, but when nothing is lost or gained with 3-D glasses, it means you’re missing the point. You have a very promising career in Hollywood ahead of you.

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  Chuck, age 5

  How about a little humility? Not everything you write needs to be read by others.

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  Henry, age 5

  This is drawn on a card that’s coincidentally the same size as an ID card . . .

  “Wait, how do I know you’re a real cop? Oh, okay, this looks legit, how can I help you today, Officer?”—Typical exchange when this new ID is presented.

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  Joel, age 6

  What is that? A castle? A stapler? Well, anyway, you failed kindergarten.

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  Fiona, age 6

  This is just as much a constable’s hat as it is a vehicle.

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  Natalie, age 5

  AND? Then what? You think you’re so special that you can just spit out any little turd your untalented fingers can scrawl and people will just eat it up? Get bent.

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  Kyley, age 4

  First of all, there is only one Rambo, so saying you saw “a” Rambo implies there are others. And second, there is no second. How does it feel to be misled?

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  Diego, age 5

  Evolutionary biologists can breathe a sigh of relief today, because at long last the missing link has been discovered, by a five-year-old child named Diego.

  The missing piece of the puzzle in evolution’s history has finally been found with the species “homostupidus,” a lanky green creature with stick-figure legs and jazz hands.

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  Ryan, age 5

  Why am I looking at this? What am I doing with my life?

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  Geoff, age 6

  “Someone’s been sleeping in my bed!” said Papa Bear. Someone’s been sleeping in my bed too!” said Mama Bear. “. . .” said NINJA BEAR.

  Just then, Goldilocks woke up to find her THROAT CHOPPED OPEN AND HER SEVERED HEAD LOOKING DOWN AT THE REST OF HER BODY FROM ATOP THE BEDPOST. Ninja bear stands with his back turned to her. He sheaths his sword, sits down cross-legged, and levitates like it ain’t no thang.

  F+

  Eloisee, age 7

  This is Poky Little Puppy from the eponymous children’s book. At first glance, I suspected this was traced, so I held the paper up to the light...

  . . . and sure enough, it’s tracing paper. It bears only a passing resemblance to the original book cover, which suggests it’s hand drawn, but if that’s the case, why the tracing paper? That’s like bringing a gun to a knife fight and throwing the gun at your assailant.

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  Jamie, age 7

  This sketch is 36 by 26.5 inches. That’s 954 square inches of pure crap!

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  Richard, age 13

  I guess sometimes ninjas poop in bowls.

  F+

  Friedrich, age 10

  Jesus was not burned at the stake as a witch.

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  Karl, age 9

  The knees are totally unprotected.

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  Michael, age 9

  Michael, unlike your teacher, you did not disappoint me. I had no expectations for you, and you met my expectations.

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  Tom, age 12

  That’s one sad, fat dragon. Villagers go straight to her thighs.

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  Margeaux, age 8

  This cat is bending space-time around it like a black hole. Even the bird is getting sucked in while desperately trying to fly away. Why aren’t all drawings of cats like this?

  F+

  Kyle, age 12

  No matter who wins, some future employer will lose.

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  Annie, age 9

  This is what girls do instead of cool shit like burning insects with magnifying glasses. It’s called “fortune-teller.” You first pick a color on an outside flap, then a number from the inside triangle, then you spell out the color by opening and closing the fortune-teller. Then you pick a number and do the same thing again. And then you fucking do it eight or ten more times; it’s like waiting outside a fitting room while your girlfriend tries on clothes. Finally, after about twenty minutes of this bullshit, you open up the flap that it lands on and you get such prophetic fortunes as “your butt smells” and “you have to eat 3,516 crab and shrimp.” Women of all ages play this game, from grade-schoolers to business professionals alike.

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  Jon, age 8

  Boop boop WoooOOOooo! “Officer shit-cop here, how may I assist?” You can start by shaving your junk heap of a cruiser and removing two of the wheels so it’s no longer a Zamboni.

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  Byron, age 13

  I suppose there were transvestites in the Middle Ages, and transvestite dragons probably kidnapped them on occasion. I never thought I’d have to entertain the concept of a dragon with a man-pussy. I miss two minutes ago. Those were more innocent times.

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  Hector, age 14

  Hector, you dumbass.

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  Mark, age 8

  Sometimes you just know.

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  Angelo, age 8

  This paradox threatens to implode our u
niverse.

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  Erik, age 14

  This 2.5-dimensional gun has a 2-dimensional stock that gives stick figures easy gripping, but a 3-dimensional barrel that can kill actual people.

  F+

  Andre, age 7

  “Hello, my friend! I have number one game for you! Please step into my alley, I have Sonic the Hedj Hug, he is fast guy with beer belly. I give you good price!”

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  Tabatha, age 10

  I’m actually going to disagree with your teacher: write less. Like 100% less.

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  Andre, age 7

  Good job on the selective coloring; looks just like a screen shot:

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  Eileen, age 10

  Marrying someone whose name is “3rd choice” is so real it gives fat waitresses in truck-stop diners everywhere a run for their money.

  F+

  Vanessa, age 8

  Black people have faces and Asian people’s eyes don’t actually slant.

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  Brynna, age 14

  Ah yes, man’s highest form of evolution is to become you: a fourteen-year-old girl named Brynna.

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  Lanisha, age 9

  And with that, science ended.

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  Jackie, age 14

  If the assignment had been to make Benjamin Franklin look like a woman with a brain tumor, you would have nailed it.

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  Timothy, age 10

  Clumsiness cannot be improved with glasses; however, the spelling of “cluminess” can.

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  Jake, age 8

  I was at a party in New York a few years ago when I got so drunk that I threw up all over my shoes. Even puke-covered, my shoes still looked better than this. I’ve literally barfed more coherently than this child’s art. That makes me a winner.

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  Carolann, age 11

  “Excuse me, ma’am. When did your daughter create this drawing?”

  “August seventeenth, 1996. Why, is something wrong, Officer?”

  “What time?”

  “I believe it was 8:51 P.M.”

  “No problem, just checking to make sure your child’s artwork had the proper documentation. Carry on.”

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  Valerie, age 10

  If you ever wanted to join a nunnery quickly and with no questions asked, you could simply produce this certificate.

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  Jake, age 7

  If we have to ask, it’s not finished. Leonardo da Vinci didn’t show people the Mona Lisa and then get asked, “Is it finished?”

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  Noel, age 10

  That’s not a medical term. If you ever hear a so-called doctor say, “Now turn around and let me take a look at your butthole,” run.

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  Sylvia, age 12

  Don’t just sit there wishing for a change of pants. Be the change of pants you want to see in the world. Yeah, bitch, you just got dissed Gandhi-style.

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  Matt, age 10

  If you draw a couple of dudes literally sword fighting, they already look like they’re metaphorically sword fighting. You don’t need to gild the lily with actual boners.

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  Aurthur, age 11

  Yes, correct. You die.

  F+

  Brandt, age 11

  What I like about this worksheet is that you clearly don’t give a fuck, and yet you erased your answer to the question “What is the longest river in Africa?” and changed it to “cups.”

  F+

  Denny, age 11

  Way to go all out on the creativity scale by picking a cat. And for the record, the number of cats that die every year from zombie outbreaks is zero.

  F-

  Jason, age 10

  “Proboblay there microphone” is not the answer to any question.

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  Wesley, age 8

  Drag queen of the jungle?

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  Stone, age 12

  Every scientist knows that the food chain starts with malted-barley beverages, eagles, deer, and bees, and ends with predators like grass and flowers.

  F

  Pat, age 9

  The Mexican-American War was indeed a time of great strife for the Super Mario Brothers.

  F

  Ricky, age 11

  A submarine in a pool of pudding? That’s like a fat kid’s dream. Way to blow a million dollars, fatty.

  And where would you find a scientist in the forest? They wouldn’t just be hanging around, waiting for random sixth-graders to ask them questions about bears. Scientists have shit to do.

  F

  Tim, age 11

  Relax, Tim, worksheets that ask you to “pretend” shouldn’t stress you out this much.

  F

  Cherry, age 11

  You are failing to connect the dots here.

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  Kevo, age 12

  You’re not even trying.

  F-

  Ralph, age 8

  No, B is for Boners. Read up on your classic literature.

  F

  Juno, age 11

  This is both creepy and super cool.

  F+

  Mike, age 11

  This is the exact same face I make when I’m hunting for treasure in caverns with my friends Chunk, Mouth and Data.

  F

  Whitney, age 7

  I’m a big fan of congratulating myself when nobody else does it for me. Good job (that was to me).

  F

  Casey, age 11

  I’m tired of how pizza is fetishized in America. It’s not this fucking superfood people make it out to be. It’s all right, but I don’t see what the big deal is. Get over it.

  F-

  Simon, age 8

  This should just read “Loser.”

  F

  Booker, age 9

  That’s how I’d dispatch a shark, too.

  F+

  Kim, age 10

  You want to grow up to be a mindless zombie? This actually seems likely. BOOM.

  F

  Garo, age 6

  This is the saddest-looking weight lifter I’ve ever seen. He looks like two hundred pounds of munged assholes. This droopy look is enough to make chicks go into menopause.

  F

  Nort, age 5

  What a coincidence: you want to grow up to be posessed by a poltergeist in a haunted house, and I want to become an evil spirit who haunts children after I die. Let’s talk.

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  Jacqueline, age 4

  I have some good news and bad news, Jacqueline: