A long time ago I found the “Tardblog” – the weblog of a special education
teacher. It was among the funniest things ever published on the web.
Predictably, it couldn’t last.
The domain is gone, but at least one mirror lives on. Go read it. Hell, download
the whole thing while you can… and enjoy the bits I posted below.
ed. note: here is a more reliable
mirror
Tardblog: 1/23: Poetic justice is sweet:
This story is almost enough turn to make me question my atheist principles.
Tyler’s father came into the school today. Tyrell had been out sick for three days, and the end of the third day his father showed up to get his work to make up. I was not pleased with this for several reasons:
- I do not like. He is not a good person (see above story).
- He had not called to tell me he was going to do this. Therefore, I am unprepared with a tard make-up work packet.
- He smelled like a fucking dumpster.
- Someone had obviously kicked his ass. BOTH of his eyes were black, he had various cuts on his face, open wounds on his arms, bloody knuckles, and his hand was wrapped with medical tape. Did I mention he stank?
Merely looking at him obligated me to question his well-being. I didn’t want to, but it really was inevitable. I am hoping that he will tell me that his tard kicked his ass.
Unfortunately this is not the case. The dad tells me that he was at the drive-thru of Taco Bell when he is cut-off by a car full of Mexicans, making him lose his rightful place in the line-up. (Note: he uses the word Mexicans this time only, after this he just says ‘cans’) Words are exchanged, birds are flipped. The ‘can’ driver then gets out and pulls him out of his car. He throws him on the ground, and begins kicking him. Then, the other ‘cans’ get out and help the driver ‘can’ to whoop his ass.
And, from a first-hand perspective, I can verify that they did, indeed, whoop his ass.
I asked him if he had gone to the hospital. He said “No, I’m okay.” He is not okay, but I don’t say it. I tell him that I don’t have the make-up work prepared, but would send it home with a sibling the next day. He says OK, and turns to leave. I tell him that I hope his son gets better soon, and that his own injuries healed soon, yada yada yada. He then stops, turns to me and says “Yeah, well ya fuck with one bean and ya get the whole burrito.”
I guess sometimes everything does come out in the wash.
#18: Supermarket serves fresh tard:
I was going through the supermarket around 12:00AM last night. I usually shop late at night, as there is less of a chance of bumping into anyone I know. I was going through frozen food section, when I see one of my tards on the other side of the freezer glass, mashed in between packages of frozen corn and peas. He was smiling and fogging up the window while beating on the glass and saying “Miss Hammon!” over and over.
I’m think to myself, “What a fucked up supermarket–they serve frozen tard.”
After that I thought, “Were the hell are his parents?”. I was relieved to find that it was one of the push open kinds of freezer doors as he let himself out and walked over to me. I told him what he was doing is very dangerous and he could suffocate. This agitated him, and he consequently told me I was a cunt and that he thought I would like the surprise. He then spit on the floor and walked away.
I never found out if he was with his parents or not.