Hi, I am Mr. Archie Isrolie Bunker, but you can call me Isrolie. Here is my story. I can�t understand my meat-headed step-children -- all 12 of them. They are demanding their own independence from me, citing all kinds of �regulations� and �rights� and other wild notions. Hammy is the worst, a true case of independent thinking. Anyway I don�t know about these �rights� but I do know the kids are all over 18, so it is time for them to stop behaving badly. I will acquiesce to their demands and teach them a lesson at the same time.

I piled them into my spare bedroom (the closet wasn�t big enough) and locked the door. Then I boarded up the windows. They should be thankful to have four walls and a roof overhead. God, I am going to miss that room. They shouted �This isn�t fair,� to which I responded �Don�t be ridiculous, you have your independence. I am not your caretaker anymore. You should now decide who among you will lead your family and be your �father.� Heavens . . . they chose Hammy! Life can be hell. I will break them yet.

I began getting calls from their concerned friends. How did they find out about this? Ahhh . . . cell phones. I must take away their cell phones. I should be able to treat my children in my own manner. Curses to them, and those who would interfere.

They began asking to go outside, visit their friends and travel. I just said �Nein!� I remind myself about something called the Stockholm Syndrome. I wonder, �Will they start loving me soon?� My guess is yes.

Hammy is banging on the door with his fists. This really gets my goat. I arrive at the door with a pot of scalding water which I throw into the room. I splashed a few of them but missed Hammy altogether, but, no worries, maybe next time.

My poor dumb friends and neighbors tell me I should release the �kids� and let them �live.� My best friend and benefactor, the honorable Mr. Hugh Essay who is very rich, powerful and wise . . . a true father figure, says, �You are doing right!� When will the rest see the light and agree?? There is �right� in �might.�

Oh, a knock at the door. One of my kid�s friends tried to bring them some clean water. I turn them away, just like every other day. They are my kids and I will provide for them as I please. Children should not be spoiled!

Why won�t they just settle down?? I discover them trying to remove the grates from their window. Loud. Don�t they realize I need my peace? I brought in a few rental thugs with brass knuckles and rearranged some of their faces, even though the ruckus was probably mainly caused by Hammy. That should get the message across. Can you believe they are starting to respect that kid even more? I really need to destroy his spirit somehow. Maybe bloodshed will work. Serves them right. I slid several old needles under the door for them to stitch up their wounds with their clothing threads. I hear some screams of pain. That�s annoying . . . and it will disturb the neighbors too. I give them a stick to bite down on. Ungrateful children!

I am not their natural father, let�s get that straight. But I have a kind heart and am hopeful for our future peace.

Their natural father and other relatives are getting quite ticked-off with me. Is that whole family crazy? I think I may just have to open up some larger cans of whoop-ass.

Don�t they realize that �Whatever is begun in anger, ends in shame�? (quoting from Benjamin Franklin)