Honey, I Mentally Damaged the Kids

Dear parents of the world,

There’s no doubt in my mind you have the most difficult, underpaid and underappreciated job on the planet, and that includes Paul W. S. Anderson’s script doctor and the U.S. Senate’s congressional angry spittle mopper.

This isn’t first hand knowledge since there are no kids under my branch on the family tree. (It’s a personal choice, nothing physical mind you. My twig doesn’t need any Miracle-Gro, thank you very much.)

But just because you get the job doesn’t mean you’re qualified for it. It may sound cruel and unusual and right out of a Phillip K. Dick novel, but the government should start cracking down on unnecessary procreation. I’m not talking about preventing sex before marriage or denying decent Americans access to their reproductions organs or anything like that. I’m talking about preventing certain people from using their tapeworm like DNA to create another life. Alabama, heads up.

It’s not about my hatred of kids. Sure kids can be noisy, selfish, loud, mean, violent, unruly, hateful, smelly and sticky little buggers, but they are also our future. If they can’t learn to be quiet in a movie theater or how to find Africa on a map, what are they going to be like when they’re funding my Social Security benefits?

I also know they often get their rotten behavior from their parents. Kids can bring out the worst adults have to offer because they monitor and mimic our every move. That’s why if you have kids, you have to be sure you’re mature and adult enough to be their parent. The right move can send them down the right path towards high school valedictorian, a Harvard science degree with a minor in British Literature and the Nobel Prize for Peace. The wrong move can send them down the wrong path towards an incomplete GED, a McDonald’s Hamburgerology degree with a minor in McNuggets and the “Employee Who Licked the Least Number of Patties Before Serving Them” award.

That’s why it’s important to start on them when their young, and feed their brain as well as their stomach with wholesome, nutritious goodness. Unfortunately, Lamas classes don’t seem to be teaching things like where not to grab your baby when picking them up and how high they can bounce.

According to the Dallas Observer’s “Unfair Park” blog, apparently some parents are bringing their waterheaded cracker spawn to screenings of Hostel II, the latest gore porno from director Eli Roth. The blog spoke to David Hopkins, an Arlington-based comic book writer who saw the splatter screener in the theater where he sat next to two children, ages one and four.

Man, just imagine how horrible that feeling in the pit of his stomach must have been to realize two kids are sitting in a hardcore R-rated movie. Those little bastards probably acted up during the whole thing.

Parents, take note of Goofus and Goofus here. These are two prime examples of bad parents. They probably wanted to go to a movie, but didn’t want to shell out the beer money to pay for a babysitter or they sprung from the loins of mutant offspring themselves and didn’t want to leave their children with them. Being a mom and dad is about sacrificing a little bit of yourself for a lot of your children and if you aren’t even willing to chip away a little bit of yourself for them, spackle your cellar doors shut. You deserve to have children as much as Rush Limbaugh deserves to win the swimsuit competition at the next Miss American pageant.

Besides, what were these parents thinking? A movie like Hostel II could warp and damage their tiny, fragile minds for the rest of their lives. They might grow up mistaking this crap for entertainment.

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