It seems that many Pajibans are reticent, and in some cases downright opposed, to reproducing. As the father of the single most perfect child in all the known universe, let me assure you that your opposition is well-founded.
First, obviously, your child will be grossly inferior to mine. While my kid is great, your booger-and-germ-encrusted windowlicker is little more than a vector for disease. And, understand, EVERY PARENT FEELS THIS WAY.
Parents are fucking insufferable and new parents are even worse. I get it and, much as I hope this was not the case, I was probably like that. A new baby simply dominates your entire life to the point of madness and even though new parents are desperate for contact with anyone who can wipe his own ass, they have nothing interesting to talk about. All they’ve been doing is catering to the 12 lb. tyrant they willingly and stupidly brought home.
And babies are boring. I’ve been rolling over for decades and nobody gives a shit.
This, however, is the very reason the well-meaning but oafish hector the childfree about parenthood. Not only do they need someone to talk to, but like I said yesterday, parents hate you. And not in a playful, “Oh, that Tracer. He’s such a card” kind of way. I mean real, actual hate. Push-you-into-traffic, set-your-home-on-fire hate.
Some people will tell you that they were never so happy and fulfilled before having kids and parenthood has given their life meaning and blah, blah, blah. Those people are dirty fucking liars. They’re wretched and they’re trying to drag you down into Hell with them.
Because, simply, parenthood is a miserable, miserable slog. It’s like buying an expensive house that you’ve never seen and can’t move into for 20 years. Sure, the house might have vaulted ceilings and your kid might be the valedictorian at Harvard, but you could also discover termites and she could end up turning tricks behind a bus station.
And that mystery? That. Is. AWFUL. Sure, you can increase the chances of Harvard and reduce the risk that you’ll be on a first name basis with the local vice squad, but really, you’re just guessing. Maybe an early bedtime will give your kid discipline and make feel both well-rested and safe with your clear rules. Or maybe he’ll hate you for controlling him and will one day beat you to death with a rake. You can’t know.
Plus, people without kids can buy convertibles. They can travel to exotic locales and actually enjoy the experience. They have sex in the living room. They don’t have to buy two officially licensed Mjolnirs for $60 apiece because the kid won’t stop playing with yours.
Quite simply, you get to be an adult, all day, every day. No homework. No silly teenage bullshit. No unspeakable children’s television. (Seriously, Tru Jackson, VP, will make you dig out a puppy’s eyes and piss on its brain.)
But, I like you. You’re not like the others. You’re special and so well-spoken. So I’m gonna help you out. I’m going to hip you to the things I used to do before my wife went and got herself knocked up.
Now, you need to remember that I’m a terrible person with no sense of shame and a cruel sense of humor so all of these won’t work for everyone. But delivered with the right deadpan or demented smile and I promise you’ll put a quick, painful stop to the bullshit. Please adjust for gender preference.
Oaf: Say, Pajiban. When are you going to have kids? Oaf Jr. needs a playmate, you know.
Not only will people stop asking you stupid questions, they’ll stop inviting you to their boring parties. Which is great. Your friends suck. Look how they pressure you into having kids.
Jason Harris absolutely does not want to see pictures of your child.