At Least He's Reading Something!

Reading has always been a big deal in my house. I've always thought that the person who reads a lot has much more going for him academically and socially. I believed that reading was the foundation block for your entire house of life. I read to my kids as they were growing up and encouraged them to carry on in the course of their lives.

My youngest would spend small fortunes at book stores and book fairs, and he continues to read with a passion. My 17 year old kind of lost his love for reading over the years, and it saddened me quite a bit. Imagine my surprise when I saw this yesterday.

From He's Reading

That's right! He was reading. On his own. For pleasure. My heart soared. For about two seconds. What was he reading, faithful reader? "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" by Hunter S. Thompson, the man who made LSD a household word. Great.
But at least he WAS reading something, right?
Fast forward to this morning. My 11 yr old picks up that book off of the couch and asks, "What is this?"
"A book," says I. "And not just any book. It's a book your brother is reading." you could hear my pride shining through.
A look of surprise comes over his face. He flips open the book to this:

From He's Reading

For those who can't make out the details (conside yourself lucky!), it is a caricature drawn by Ralph Steadman (?) of a naked man bent over a toilet bowl puking his guts out while an obviously shocked cleaning lady looks on in horror.

Mr. Very Astute Eleven Year Old puts the book down and says,"Maybe we ought to start saving up bail money for my brother now."

But at least he was reading SOMETHING, right?
Sigh.