I suppose if I were a parent, I would also be enraged by the unorthodox teachings of the fifth-grade substitute at MacGregor Middle School who had her kids call her Sister Jessica. But as it is, she just seems like fun. I can imagine us at happy hour together. Her chatter would be way more fascinating than the usual my-boss-sucks, these-are-my-weekend-plans, Barack-or-Hillary conversation.

This little story presents gem after gem from Sister Jessica. Among them:

โ€ข Donโ€™t call her Miss, cuz that means mistress. While youโ€™re at it, donโ€™t call her Mister, either โ€“ thatโ€™s a slave owner.

โ€ข Sugar is cocaine.

โ€ข McDonaldโ€™s is Crack Donaldโ€™s.

โ€ข Burger King is Murder King.

โ€ข Hair permanent and makeup cause cancer.

โ€ข Thereโ€™s rat poison in toothpaste.

โ€ข And, of course, God doesnโ€™t exist.

What I want to know is, whyโ€™d the kids nark on this woman? Best. Substitute. Teacher. Ever! (Sister Jess, give me a call. Beerโ€™s on me!) โ€“ Cathy Matusow