Do you know where your president is?

            Does your child play golf so badly that he thinks running the club is the only thing that can help? Does he rank women on a binary scale? On your way home from work, have you spied him lurking at a corner downtown, trying to score loose continents? Is he obsessed with gold? Does he, when asked where the money went, where it came from, and how much he has spent, become evasive and battles it out in federal court? Does your child have the wrong friends? Like dictators, thugs, and Mitch McConnell?  Is your child the president? Is your president a child?

            Has your child, in an attempt to disprove global warming, taken a cone of uncertainty that no longer applies, and extended it with a magic marker, badly? Using the bottom of a Diet Coke can for the curve at the end? Then, displayed it to the press? Proudly?

            Perhaps a little something is needed. Something called the twenty fifth amendment. Now, I know that many parents become very unpopular when they use this mode of discipline, but sometimes it’s called for. Like, now. When your child has the nuclear codes and is obviously rolling on aspartame and Sharpie fumes.

            I’m not saying that invoking the twenty fifth amendment will solve all these problems. It involves replacing your child with a cultish android. And, you thought ‘Data’ was inscrutable. This guy could appoint anyone Vice-Child. Like Ted Cruz, Stephen Segal or Deputy Dawg.

            But, it’s a start. You may have a better chance at family harmony through utilizing the twenty fifth amendment again and again. Wash, rinse, repeat. Until, perhaps, you’ll achieve baseline domestic tranquility with someone like Mitt Romney.

            Never thought I’d say that.

            Every parent should know that they have support and resources. So, do you know where your representatives are? I’ll tell you. They’re somewhere else, drumming up votes by saying that they’ll go and stop the trouble ‘over there’. Meanwhile, it seems that the last place that they want to be is ‘over there’. It’s time to take some responsibility, stick your head out the porch door of the Capitol and call ‘Dinner Time!’