Yesterday, a loser teen was gifted Oh, the Places You'll Go! in earnest and completely without irony. The Dr. Seuss book, a graduation-season perennial favorite, was given to the seventeen-year-old by his mother. "I'm so proud of him!" she beamed. "It's not every day your boy graduates from the eleventh grade!"
Still, family and friends expressed confusion over her gift choice.
"Look, I love my son," said the teen's father, her now ex-husband. "But the only 'places' he's 'going' are the medical weed dispensary and White Castle...and what the hell is an eleventh grade graduation anyway?"
The boy's grandmother was hesitant to comment but did add, "Perhaps some workbooks or study guides would have been more appropriate, or even What Color Is Your Parachute?"
"Parachute?" scoffed the teen's grandfather. "He's too lazy to jump out of the damn plane."
"It's true," admitted the boy's father. "It's probably my fault. His mother has had him on a steady diet of praise and Pizza Hut since the divorce. I should have intervened sooner. Now all the Axe Body Spray in the world can't mask his aura of stale bong water and failure."
The teen's mother was asked if she thought Oh, the Places You'll Go! was an odd gift choice considering the teen's point-six-zero--barely D minus--grade point average. "Listen. I believe in my boy," she replied tersely. Just like the book says, '[He's] got brains in [his] head. [He's] got feet in [his] shoes. [He] can steer [himself] in any direction [he] choose[s].' And he is going to do exactly that...any minute now."