Freakin' Kids

So I think I know how serial killers feel before they serial kill someone. I'm finding it harder and harder to control my urge to say wildly inappropriate yet true things to kids. I still have an inordinate amount of self-control, but it's waning.

It just gets harder and harder until one day you finally snap and there is no Santa Claus and there is no Easter Bunny and you're a dumb shit with an abusive dad! Then the cops are called, you have to move, social services is wondering why YOU have kids, and it's all just a big mess.

I hate kids. Mine are fine, but I don't like other people's. I mean it's fine and dandy to send home the kid who hits, but you should also be aware of the kid who's verbally abusing the neighborhood. In fact, I'm fairly certain my kids are about a month away from emo because of other kids.

It's a real shame you have to have kids to propagate the species, though there have been leaps and bounds in cloning, so there's something. Maybe someday we'll all be androids.

You know, when I was in the family way with my first little leech, I thought people who chose not to have children were like, crazy. I felt bad for them. The poor suckers were shorting themselves on the miracle of life. They were lesser beings. BAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I now call extreme BS on my former self. Bollocks. It's just straight up bollocks. Now, when I see those people I think, wow, what freedom and sanity you must have. I actually have friends who are like, “I think I want to have another kid.” I just yell, “NO!” and offer them a psychiatric eval. Because after all, we all know that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result.