Sunday, January 30, 2005


And now, back to our regularly scheduled hate-filled program.

Breeders. I love to hate 'em. I probably just envy them, and their neat little family units. I also can't appreciate how hard it is to maintain one, 'cuz I don't have one. No one's trying to knock my butt up.

Anyway, a butt, last time I checked, cannot carry a pregnancy to term.

So while I can say I would do things differently, it's really all just speculation. What most likely will happen (if anything) is that I will develop a frozen smile and a strangely glazed stare focused off somewhere in the near distance, or the distant past - before I mistakenly spawned upstream.

Yeah, I'm just jealous because no one's going to slit my "t'aint" with a scalpel.

However, I would like to think that, after that blessed occasion, I would:

A single-file line. Maybe even a leash. It really puts me off when a family is blocking an entire aisle in the grocery store, escalator, or hallway with their collective ass.

To nicer restaurants and adult movies, I wouldn't go at all unless I could get a sitter. On the occasion this is unavoidable, the table with kids should be surrounded by a nine-foot wall of Plexiglass to prevent disturbing the other patrons, shameless "adorable" flirting over the sides of the booth, outright Helen Keller-style mooching, flying food, etc. Preferably, we'd head for a family feedbag type joint if we weren't eating in. On a tarp.

Furthermore, I will fart incessantly in the general direction of the next family I see with kids in an R-rated movie. The poor kids are going to be traumatized or worse. I am still scarred by scenes from PURPLE RAIN and HALLOWEEN because my father thought it was okay to drag a kid to a seamy/scary movie. That said, it is my own damn fault if I attempt to see a kids' movie in relative peace and quiet. Or go to (G*d forbid) Disneyland. Although I would like to propose Adult Days at Disneyland. You heard me. But then, the adults are usually the cranky ones at Dismalland, so now it's my turn to shut the hell up.

In the grocery store, where it is sometimes necessary to drag kids, I would beg, borrow, steal, or bribe to get the kid to shut up. If they ask for a toy, just give it. How expensive is a grocery store toy anyway? Besides the obvious choking factor and subsequent emergency room visit...?

Just because the singles in the vicinity have to share airspace with kids doesn't mean that they deserve perforated eardrums.

Kids with the lung capacity to make "that" noise should be injected immediately with a hormone to cause spontaneous puberty in order to lower their voice. Ever seen Farinelli? Like that, but the polar opposite.

Ever had a crusty baby thrust upon you? If so, you know that there is nothing worse than a crusty baby. People should keep their offspring clean and crust-free before they shove 'em in other people's faces. Since it wasn't their spooge that created that li'l squirt, others are not nearly as understanding about having dried-up snot or spit-up (to say nothing of the precariously dangling snot streamer) rubbed off on their particulars.

Me, I seem to inspire spontaneous and enthusiastic pooping in newborns. They should package and sell me as baby laxative.

Do not pass the baby if he/she has eaten in the recent past. Not even to a doting grandparent who pretends not to mind, because they really do. You already shat and spat your spooge all over your parents. They don't want a whole new generation of grandspooge to remind them of just how unpleasant the childrearing experience was for them. As grandparents, their job is to spoil your kids beyond redemption and then leave. And then send money.

I do not blame my Grandpa Hollis, for example, for being detached from us grandkids and/or a mean ol' sumbitch in his youth, followed by a short spell of sweetness proceeding immediately into Alzheimer's. Because once, he was playing "airplane" with my infant mom, and she spat up in his mouth. Moral of the story? As I parent, I would make damned sure all of my orifices were hermetically sealed before handling an infant. Your mouth should never be hanging open during play, or especially diaper-changing, especially if your bawling brat is male.

I plan to wear a sneeze guard on my head, earplugs, and protective goggles at all times. Hell, why not a full-on biohazard suit?

You can never be too careful around projectile-peeing and -vomiting babies. Their aim is deadly.

What is that funky smell that kids have? I would have to make mine go out back and roll in lavender bushes or some shit until that funk came off. No wonder they don't like to bathe - they want to overwhelm the world with their kid-stink. Which they already have.

Is it child abuse to make sure that the don't create noise pollution and/or boogerfy everthing...? Yeah, I guess pulling it off would hurt. Can somebody please make a kid-muzzle?

Sometimes they get bitey.

Thank you.


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