The Slipper Scoop: Whoopin’ Dearborn Style!

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Let’s face it, folks. There’s nothing like a good beating to really counter a child’s misbehavior. Yes, we know that it’s the 21st century now and ‘hugs not drugs’ and all that crap… but dissenters of this argument better have a really good explanation for why kids today are so outrageously arrogant, self-centered, and disrespectful. I’ll tell you why! Because they’ve never been smacked across their big fat mouth!

We do it right in Dearborn. Always show the kid some love, buy him toys, and feed him sick. But if that rotten little jerk takes one step outside of his social box, you beat those manners back into his punk ass ASAP! Like grandma always said: “if it hurts, it’s workin’!”

Fellow outsiders, liberals, and human rights activists: I want to point something out before I paint this town as a hotbed of child beaters and innocence-butchers. For purposes of entertainment, I will embellish these incidents quite a bit. That’s not to say that they don’t happen. But for all intents and purposes, this is a work of fiction that’s inspired by true events.

Here we go.

PHYSICAL DISCIPLINE

Shahhata (Slipper)  The Holy Grail of Dearborn punishment! It is a multifaceted tool of ancient and modern moral inculcation. Kid stole a cookie from the cookie jar? Bring the shahhata. Kid got a C on his report card? Shahhata! Kid farted in front of the dinner guests? Smile and comment on how cute he is…but when the guests leave? Shahhata! Also referred to as the ni’aal in some cultures (and replaced by the mihwaash in others), this flexible, flat surface serves well for slapping, beating, flinging, slinging, and intimidating wagging. Light, firm, and uncannily aerodynamic, it is a precious favorite of mothers everywhere!

Aerodynamic, you say? That’s right! Don’t be mistaken for a second: when Dearborn mothers wield that slipper, neither David nor Goliath’s got jack on them! Those pudgy shrieky bundles of love are practically ninjas! (Literally, too. But let’s not go there). Even from meters away, they can fling that thing around corners, up stairways, through cracks, and under doors with the unmistakable precision of a U.S. drone. The shahhata’s effectiveness is in question, however; for although it’s a terrible experience at the time, getting hit by the shahhata is always HILARIOUS later.

I’shaat (Belt)  Dearborn dads prefer a more deliberate method of instruction. Sterner, less animated, and more jarring to the human psyche, this method of discipline is swift and straight to the point. When Dad calls you into his bedroom at 9:00 pm, you’re crying before you get there. What ensues afterwards is a series of ceremonial rituals that I am not at liberty to discuss. All I can say is this: by the time you emerge from that room (after no more than five minutes), the uproar has stopped, dad’s hungry again, and you’re silent as stone for the next 24 hours.

Har (Hot Spices)  It’s not just an Indian thing. Dearborn children know the consequence for bad language. Har! That’s right; hot pepper slamming the tongue and trickling down the back of the throat. Dearborn children everywhere know the “har dance”: that agonized, desperate, teary-eyed shake they do as mom holds back their heads and dumps this Asian fire into their mouths, all the while screaming out “you see? Hah? You see what happens when you say bad words?!”

Pavlovian conditioning at its finest.

MENTAL DISCIPLINE

Kaf (slap)  Now you may think a slap across the face is physical, but let me explain. The genius of this swift yet relatively painless method is not so much physical pain, but shameful humiliation. It hardly ever hurts much, but when you cross the line and find yourself kissing your parent’s swift open palm, you always cry. Why? Because it’s degrading. Because nothing says “I own you” like a well-planted kaf across the face—or, if you’re young enough, on the butt.

“Bitshoof…” (You’ll see…”)  Oh no…No! ANYthing but THAT!

That’s the last word ANY Dearborn child wants to hear. When a parent says that in public, preceded by a deep breath and bulging eyes, you know you’re gettin’ it when you get home. What it actually means is “I want to do something so terribly horrible to you right now that I can’t do it in public. So I’ll wait until we get home.”

Arabic School  Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friends. When home abuse is no longer enough to instill obedience and compliance, they send you to the experts. You arrive in the name of bilingual education, cultural awareness, and religious indoctrination; but kids know better. Your weekend has been replaced with minutes that last for hours; repetitive, tedious schooling that numbs your brain; and communication to the nth decibel. Arabic School is social lobotomy.

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