Damn right. When I was a 7, my old man used to pull over the car in random places and look at me and say "find your way home *****." If I didn't get out, I knew he would put the boot in my face, plus I wasn't no ***** so out I went. I would have never learned how to scavenge for food or navigate using the sun and stars if not for this. When I finally limped home a few days later, after falling down 2 hills and being mauled by a lion, I looked at my father and said "I did it dad, I'm home." You know what he did? He put his boot in my face and ran me over with the car. Then he asked if I thought I was special? He didn't even take me to the hospital until my brother got home and he ran him over too. I guess he thought that if he had to make a trip to the ***** station (hospital) that he might as well make two. Mom helped him by stomping on our broken bones until they were good and mangled. You know what? It made me a better person.
These kids today got it way too easy. Bunch a little *******. There ain't nuttin more evil than a trophy, praise, or even compliments. Them kids all need kicked out of moving cars, and if they complain, they *******.