It's a truly sphincter-clenching concept, but children seem to be on the cards for quite a few people that I'm friends/acquaintances with. Facebook status updates abound with the latest ultrasounds and "oh, Fucker just kicked me" and the smugly-self-satisfied commentary that can only come from folks who consider themselves to have made it because they've managed to get up the duff.
Excuse me if I seem rather cynical-I think children are great and I'm usually able to achieve more rapport with kids than quite a few adults (I'm looking in your direction, Ass-hat); nevertheless, in no possible world can I imagine that I would be a good parent. A passable parent, at times, perhaps, but ultimately doomed to pass on a multitude of eccentricities, warped logic and weird habits. I'm reminded of the first stanza of Philip Larkin's poem, This Be Thy Verse:
"They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had.
And add some extra, just for you."
There are several things that bother me about having children. First of all, despite what anyone says, I find it to be by and far the most selfish thing that an adult can do. "Wait! Having a child is actually one of the most selfless things a person can do," you opine. I'm sorry, but that's bullshit. Raising a child because you wanted one constitutes ultimate selfishness on your part. You are fundamentally choosing to mould a child in your likeness and submit them to a lifetime of toil, failure and rejection. And perhaps the most depressing aspect of this selfishness is that the parent ends up sacrificing much of who they are in the process of bringing Little Billy into the world. I'd wager that a hefty percentage of the parenting population are actually, to a significant extent, unhappy with their lot in life.
Wait-did that sound like something I just pulled out of my ass? Here: try this for size. I know I've just thrown what may seem like a random and meaningless article at you, but it's well worth the read.
Ok, maybe several studies by eminent psychologists haven't convinced you to forego a life without sleep, so what about economics? Disposable income? Bar a love of big-screen televisions that get used as computer screens and for my beloved (but little used) xbox, I'm a relatively frugal sort of guy. I'm lucky if I eat out once every two weeks or so, I rarely indulge in alcohol nowadays (mind you, when I do, it can be somewhat catastrophic) and clothes have to be almost coming apart at the seams before I'll even consider buying any new threads. Bearing this all in mind, I can't fathom how a couple, let alone a single parent, can afford to bring up more than one child. Aside from having to feed, clothe and house another human being, who is unlikely to appreciate the huge sacrifice you've undertaken in rearing them, think of all the birthdays, Christmases, random treats, pocket-money and cash-intensive hobbies that they are likely to celebrate in their piddling little lives. There are only two options in this sort of scenario-you're unable to afford special treats on your income so are forced to explain to the child why they can't get a particular toy for Christmas when all his friends are getting one and be vilified for years OR you work longer hours in order to buy the "good life" and risk having a child who is spoiled. Am I the only one who sees a problem with this?
It could be argued that there's some sort of social preconditioning taking place in our age. I see it all the time in those movies (usually starring Adam Sandler)-the 30 something singleton doesn't want to commit after living a life of unbelievable bachelorhood. A kid turns up, for some reason, and said kid proceeds to fuck up Sandler's entire life. Strangely, by the end of the film our man-child's story arc climaxes with him having the epiphany that it isn't so bad after all, he loves the child really and wants to adopt him/marry his mother. The problem is that kids don't quite take to routine the same way in that adults do-I teach children who, every single fucking day without fail, manage to forget a multitude of things: pens, pencils, jotters, homework, workbooks and even, yes, to turn up at the right fucking time. Children go through phases like this as often as I manage to plough through food and it's not until they are well into their twenties that they grow up and establish a more regular routine for themselves.
Hell, some adults I know haven't even managed that.
So any semblance of a life that you had before your precious little bundle of joy has been born should be bid adieu. No more Saturdays sitting around in your underwear eating pizza, playing video games and surfing the internet for free porn. At least, not when they are in the house.
What's perhaps worst of all is that, reading various comments on Facebook, you'd think the runts were angels gifted from up on high. I've seen baby chimps that are better at triggering the "aww" reflex. Babies can appear cute to new parents, but come on-let's call a spade a spade, eh? And that's disregarding another self-evident truth which was perfectly vocalised by one of the greatest TV shows of all time: "The older they get, the cuter they ain't."
The personal invective I'm displaying towards children belies the fact that I actually like them. A lot. God knows some day I would like to have some of my own. That said, when that day comes, I will do my damnedest to ensure that I don't parade my sprog around as an extension of me and my accomplishments, plaster ultrasound after fucking ultrasound all over Facebook and strive to have conversations with other people that are not predicated upon "guess what little Fuck-be-nut slipped into my coffee this morning (Hint: it rhymes with schmalcohol)!"
And don't even get me started on weddings.
*Rather than rewrite the entire paragraph, I'm including this as a landmark example of a character arc that follows, for the most part, this formula. Before Sandler, too.
_________________________________________________________________
"Hopeless emptiness. Now you've said it. Plenty of people are onto the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness. "
-D.
 |
| Cause they can't get enough. |
Excuse me if I seem rather cynical-I think children are great and I'm usually able to achieve more rapport with kids than quite a few adults (I'm looking in your direction, Ass-hat); nevertheless, in no possible world can I imagine that I would be a good parent. A passable parent, at times, perhaps, but ultimately doomed to pass on a multitude of eccentricities, warped logic and weird habits. I'm reminded of the first stanza of Philip Larkin's poem, This Be Thy Verse:
"They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had.
And add some extra, just for you."
There are several things that bother me about having children. First of all, despite what anyone says, I find it to be by and far the most selfish thing that an adult can do. "Wait! Having a child is actually one of the most selfless things a person can do," you opine. I'm sorry, but that's bullshit. Raising a child because you wanted one constitutes ultimate selfishness on your part. You are fundamentally choosing to mould a child in your likeness and submit them to a lifetime of toil, failure and rejection. And perhaps the most depressing aspect of this selfishness is that the parent ends up sacrificing much of who they are in the process of bringing Little Billy into the world. I'd wager that a hefty percentage of the parenting population are actually, to a significant extent, unhappy with their lot in life.
Wait-did that sound like something I just pulled out of my ass? Here: try this for size. I know I've just thrown what may seem like a random and meaningless article at you, but it's well worth the read.
Ok, maybe several studies by eminent psychologists haven't convinced you to forego a life without sleep, so what about economics? Disposable income? Bar a love of big-screen televisions that get used as computer screens and for my beloved (but little used) xbox, I'm a relatively frugal sort of guy. I'm lucky if I eat out once every two weeks or so, I rarely indulge in alcohol nowadays (mind you, when I do, it can be somewhat catastrophic) and clothes have to be almost coming apart at the seams before I'll even consider buying any new threads. Bearing this all in mind, I can't fathom how a couple, let alone a single parent, can afford to bring up more than one child. Aside from having to feed, clothe and house another human being, who is unlikely to appreciate the huge sacrifice you've undertaken in rearing them, think of all the birthdays, Christmases, random treats, pocket-money and cash-intensive hobbies that they are likely to celebrate in their piddling little lives. There are only two options in this sort of scenario-you're unable to afford special treats on your income so are forced to explain to the child why they can't get a particular toy for Christmas when all his friends are getting one and be vilified for years OR you work longer hours in order to buy the "good life" and risk having a child who is spoiled. Am I the only one who sees a problem with this?
It could be argued that there's some sort of social preconditioning taking place in our age. I see it all the time in those movies (usually starring Adam Sandler)-the 30 something singleton doesn't want to commit after living a life of unbelievable bachelorhood. A kid turns up, for some reason, and said kid proceeds to fuck up Sandler's entire life. Strangely, by the end of the film our man-child's story arc climaxes with him having the epiphany that it isn't so bad after all, he loves the child really and wants to adopt him/marry his mother. The problem is that kids don't quite take to routine the same way in that adults do-I teach children who, every single fucking day without fail, manage to forget a multitude of things: pens, pencils, jotters, homework, workbooks and even, yes, to turn up at the right fucking time. Children go through phases like this as often as I manage to plough through food and it's not until they are well into their twenties that they grow up and establish a more regular routine for themselves.
Hell, some adults I know haven't even managed that.
 |
| "Weren't you Ross's son in Friends? What happened to your career, little buddy?" "Wait, weren't you The Hot Chick and The Animal?" "Point taken." |
What's perhaps worst of all is that, reading various comments on Facebook, you'd think the runts were angels gifted from up on high. I've seen baby chimps that are better at triggering the "aww" reflex. Babies can appear cute to new parents, but come on-let's call a spade a spade, eh? And that's disregarding another self-evident truth which was perfectly vocalised by one of the greatest TV shows of all time: "The older they get, the cuter they ain't."
The personal invective I'm displaying towards children belies the fact that I actually like them. A lot. God knows some day I would like to have some of my own. That said, when that day comes, I will do my damnedest to ensure that I don't parade my sprog around as an extension of me and my accomplishments, plaster ultrasound after fucking ultrasound all over Facebook and strive to have conversations with other people that are not predicated upon "guess what little Fuck-be-nut slipped into my coffee this morning (Hint: it rhymes with schmalcohol)!"
And don't even get me started on weddings.
*Rather than rewrite the entire paragraph, I'm including this as a landmark example of a character arc that follows, for the most part, this formula. Before Sandler, too.
_________________________________________________________________
"Hopeless emptiness. Now you've said it. Plenty of people are onto the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness. "
-D.
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