Apparently, my son’s soccer coach has decided to give all
the kids on the team nicknames. Thing is, my son, and the rest of the team,
know all these names now. Actually, the whole town probably does since this guy’s
voice carries over about five fields. Not kidding. He is LOUD. So, you gotta be
careful what you call these kids. You know, put a brain cell or two into it
before you just shout it out.
So, coaching a team of 3rd and 4th
graders, he decides to give the kids nicknames. That’s fine. Maybe he has
trouble remembering names. Maybe he thinks it’s cute. Whatever.

This kid goes to their school. He is on their bus. He is in
some of their classes. The other nicknames Mr. Moron doled out have already
made it to the bus and playground but since they are mostly just variations of
their names, no harm done. I wonder what the hell is going to happen on Monday.
Rock on, Mr. Moron. Giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you are not a racist bastard and you are simply an idiot, I will say this: I hope your son never
has to deal with what this kid is now dealing with. This kid, who you have ridiculed and
mocked, will suffer for your sheer stupidity. And make no mistake about it—it is your fault. The children are
calling him names but you, Mr. Moron, a grown man, started it. What the hell were you thinking?