The sign sez it all: 2005 Aug 16 (Tue), 04:25|
Children really are an unmistakable blight on society, aren't they? They start out screaming and squirmy, incapable of controlling basic bodily functions. They move to producing horrible stink as well as intolerable noise. After this, they migrate towards incessant yammering and constant barrages of stupid questions. Soon, they become very stupid tiny adults (very much like Republicans). Later they move on to listening to music you will never understand, stealing cars, doing cocaine, and generally sassing. All this, and if you beat them, you're considered the bad guy.
I fucking hate kids. I hate kids of all shapes and sizes. But you know what I hate even more than kids? Fucking breeders who don't fucking realize just how infuriating their offspring is.
For those of you blessed with hell-spawn progeny, allow me to fill you in on the situation....
Every fucking parent is blind. Sometime between conception and the moment the steaming mass drops from the utero sack the progenitor develops acute insanity. They suddenly forget all that experience has taught them about other people's children and think that their tiny moppet is the cutest thing ever to grace the fucking planet. They are wrong.
Because they are blind, they somehow think everyone else will find their insolent schlemiel simply adorable, and they cease to care or fret over keeping their warm-blooded money-pit in line.
A while ago, I was flying in an airplane. Behind me sat a man with his young male offspring. They proceeded to play football in the four foot wide row for the entire three hour flight. Back and forth an imaginary ball would fly to the squealing delight of the raven-haired little monster.
I sat there trying to be kind and cordial, as is my way, but I simply could not. After the zillionth time kicking me in the back of my chair, rather than wheel around and stab them with my PDA stylus, I decided to try and reason with the man.
"Sir," I said, "Seeing as how this is a very long flight, and I am a very weary traveller, could you see it in your heart to fucking shut your bastard-child up?"
He blinked at me and replied, "He isn't crying, he's just laughing... It could be worse!" He then smiled and continued to play imaginary football in the four foot fucking arena behind me.
Fuck me sideways with a wooden shaft.
"He isn't crying?!" ... "It could be worse?!"
Listen, dipshit, any sound that comes out of your child this side of a muffled breath is too much. To me, whether the sound is an estatic proclaimation of glee or the horror-shrieks of someone bleeding to death, it is the same thing when it emanates from the gullet of your prepubescent punk. I don't go all cooey and gaga over every utterance of your nescient neonate. In fact, the mere presence of your child in the room with me makes me all irritable and cranky. You parents get all huffy when I swear in front of them, for example, as if you can shield them from the world. So I have to watch my language. I can't burp or fart or make obscene gestures. In short, I can't be me.
So take your fucking kids and shove them. Go raise them on some island where you wont bother me. Where you wont get angry because you stupidly bought them a CD or a videogame that was intended for an adult and then blame someone else for corrupting your child. Go take them to other restaurants where I don't have to see and hear them when I am relaxing and eating. Remove them from my theaters when I am trying to enjoy a good bit of the old ultra-violence. And, whatever you do, don't bring them to my grocery and department stores where their cries would become the soundtrack to my shopping experience.