LISTEN INSTEAD
I know everyone has their own agenda and plans for life. I simply try to take a more pragmatic approach. As I see it, the world is over populated, humans are polluting at an unprecedented rate, and everyone is talking about going green. Well I'm doing my part; I'm not having any kids.
Did you know that velociraptors, one of the smallest of predatory dinosaurs, could coordinate to attack and kill beasts over 50 times their size? I say this to say children scare the shit out of me. And I am at a loss as to why so many people my age and younger seem to have kids.
Well, I understand why they have them; God says condoms are from the devil. My real confusion is why they are happy about it. I find it hard to believe I could be excited about a shitting, puking, screaming pint-sized mutant who will take up a good portion of my time, resources and money for at least 18 years. Yet, somehow, these people find a void outside of rationality to think this soul-sucker is the greatest thing to ever happen and they have plenty of pictures and stories to bore you with.
But since there is no reasoning with such people, I have come up with a couple rules to be implemented to deal with young parents who have not yet learned common decency.
First, walking, speaking one syllable words, and waving "bye" are not talents, they are part of the evolutionary process. If your kid manages to do these things before turning two he has simply proven he's not retarded. If he's taking his first step at 27, then I'm willing to listen as I enjoy encouraging stories of hope.
Second, If you choose to get on a plane with a child under the age of 12, it is your responsibility to buy drinks for everyone on the plane. And don't be stingy. It is open bar for all passengers who have to deal with your "little angel" screaming incessantly as though his oxygen is provided from some unseen source.
Third, do not say "please" and "thank you" to your child when he is being a little shit. Respect is reserved for those who respect you and, unfortunately, you cannot kill him with kindness so it is a lose-lose.
Fourth, and probably most important, if you have not yet had a child but are giving it some consideration, take a look at your most recent paycheck. If your salary ends in the words "per hour," maybe put it off a while, Jack. And if you are unable to properly operate a condom, diaphragm, or daily pill, take a day's pay down to the free clinic and purchase a year's supply of morning-after pills. Grind them up and hide them in your cheese.
Now, I don't mean to discourage reproduction—although I'm not pro-choice, I'm pro-abortion—I just mean to say that if you're choosing to reproduce, you have certain moral obligations to your fellow humans. Beyond these four decent courtesies I've outlined, you do have an obligation to "go green"—you've just doubled your carbon footprint. Not only are you consuming more resources to raise your bundle of joy, that little sapien will one day be a full-grown human gobbling up goods and leaving its own shit trail for a good fifty or sixty years. And it'll most likely pump out a few units of its own along the way, exponentially increasing the drag on good ole Mother Earth.
So no more petroleum products for you, hun. Go get yourself an electric car, or better yet a bus pass—can't have you using tires and coal-sourced electricity. Out with all the plastic in your home; only gently-crafted plant-based materials from now on. Stop going to the grocery store; plant some tomatoes. I never want to see another parent at a fast-food joint or diner again. And while you're at it, out with the TVs and computers and cell phones—can't have you supporting mass manufacturing and international trade. You're the reason the ocean is dying, sweetheart. In all reality, you're probably best to just move out to a commune in Oregon somewhere. Teach the kiddies to weave baskets; you can knit sweaters and funky socks. Meanwhile, I'll be using styrofoam containers and disposable plasticware; I'll be enjoying my off-road vehicles when I'm not cruising aimlessly in a 70s muscle car; I'll never opt for paperless statements and I'll always get my pre-packaged groceries double-bagged. Why? Because the earth can handle another thirty to forty years of my bullshit.
Happy trails, hippy. I'll be at the monster truck rally.