Now, anyone who has read yesterday's post will probably imagine me an emotionally maladjusted 'child man' who giggles inanely at clouds and wants only to eat sweets and draw with crayons.
If that is this the case, I'm afraid this post will do nothing to disabuse of that Incorrect Notion. Sure, I do want to do those things, but I do grown up things as well, just that they aren't suitable for this Blog.
I have no children. Again the people who have read this blog before are probably relieved. I don't seem the type to be able to handle having an utterly dependent, (Near Parasitic maybe) organ attached to me, sucking away my life force in order to live. Of course they are right, and that unpleasantly skewed description of being a parent I just wrote proves that. I probably would be a rotten father. I don't know though, and the only evidence I have for this is based upon my perception of YOUR children
Yes Yours. Anyone who has children.
Frankly I resent them.
I don't hate them, or dislike them personally. I just resent what they mean to my life.
I don't mind that you get free money and tax breaks to help raise them. It's clearly a costly job and will last until you die, and since the whole make up of the world is dependent on you doing it correctly, I'm happy for any assistance that stops future generations from turning into mewling, self important douchebags. I'm happy to have a monetary Tax on my 'wonderfully selfish' carefree life. It's worth it frankly.
So it isn't that. What I resent is when they directly impact on my life. Ie. When some idiot wants to ban a game/film/book/comic/decorative fez/series of saucy etchings etc that is clearly marketed to adults because some dumb ass parent has let their over sensitive groundrat get traumatized by it.
'Oh, but we must think of the Children' was the cry that made the Texas Chainsaw Massacre ILLEGAL for so many years, and if you're a parent who looked at that film and got it confused with the Rainbow Bright Christmas Special, it is you they should come for, not my video...
So, keep the kids out of adult entertainment if you're worried. But equally pernicious to me and my Joyful/Child-Man Mindset (Delete as you see fit) is when it works the other way. Some wonderful entertainments are deemed just for children, or (and this is the unfair bit) to any adult who happens to have a clutch of these gurgling bed-moisteners to hand.
The fact that I don't have children is what is preventing me from going to a sleepover at the national history museum tonight.
Yes.. a FUCKING Sleepover at the National History Museum. And yes, you sleep in the shadow of the giant dinosaur skeleton.
(Incidentally if that doesn't sound like an amazing way to spend the saturday night that I'd usually spend in a club, please leave this blog now and have a cardiac specialist xray the lump of cold, dead carbon in your chest)
I can't do that because you need to have a group of kids with you. Now I don't particularly want to go there because I deal kids pretty much how a rational person deals with wasps. If they aren't in my face I ignore them. If they get in my face I try and shoo them away, but if they are on mass I get the fuck out of there.
Sadly, for some reason, they don't see this as an activity that requires an 'adults' night... so I would have just plugged in my earphones to drown out the amassed child-babble and fallen into a smiling sleep whilst focusing on the dinosaur bones and feeling that I was somehow fulfilling an ambition from when I was an equally nauseating brat. This is happening at other museums too, and Kew gardens and the like... all with the additional fee on top of the ticket price, of spending some time looking after a smaller person who might urinate on themselves.
This has impacted on my life before. At one of the last Big Chill festivals, before that once mighty gathering reached its sad and ignoble end (Which I attended, and wept) they advertised a petting zoo. My Then Girlfriend was particularly thrilled by this idea, and while there was no music on we decided to venture towards the 'kids field' an expanse that took up a third of the entire site, and was incredibly sparsely populated. When we arrived we were told we couldn't come in, because we hadn't decided to jumble our DNA together, squirt it into a skin sack and carry it around with us for the rest of our natural lives.
Funnily enough, I don't remember the one third discount from the ticket price for not being able to use that proportion of the field. I also don't remember that the tickets for 'non-breeders' were exclusively made available to 'rampant child-abductors who desperately want the sod of smug little sod-child who would be at the Big Chill' or that kind of 'Giant from Jack and The Beanstalk who Grinds Kids Bones to make their bread'
Ok, Rant over.
I don't begrudge you your child. Just don't expect me to share your delight in them and definitely don't expect me to give enough of a shit to want to harm them in any way.
I agree to not swear in their presence, or watch Hardcore porn where they might see, or watch Driller Killer in a nursery, and you can agree to keep them well out of my life.
Oh, and don't let them stand between me and having some quality time with a dinosaur... Deal?
If that is this the case, I'm afraid this post will do nothing to disabuse of that Incorrect Notion. Sure, I do want to do those things, but I do grown up things as well, just that they aren't suitable for this Blog.
I have no children. Again the people who have read this blog before are probably relieved. I don't seem the type to be able to handle having an utterly dependent, (Near Parasitic maybe) organ attached to me, sucking away my life force in order to live. Of course they are right, and that unpleasantly skewed description of being a parent I just wrote proves that. I probably would be a rotten father. I don't know though, and the only evidence I have for this is based upon my perception of YOUR children
Yes Yours. Anyone who has children.
Frankly I resent them.
I don't hate them, or dislike them personally. I just resent what they mean to my life.
I don't mind that you get free money and tax breaks to help raise them. It's clearly a costly job and will last until you die, and since the whole make up of the world is dependent on you doing it correctly, I'm happy for any assistance that stops future generations from turning into mewling, self important douchebags. I'm happy to have a monetary Tax on my 'wonderfully selfish' carefree life. It's worth it frankly.
So it isn't that. What I resent is when they directly impact on my life. Ie. When some idiot wants to ban a game/film/book/comic/decorative fez/series of saucy etchings etc that is clearly marketed to adults because some dumb ass parent has let their over sensitive groundrat get traumatized by it.
'Oh, but we must think of the Children' was the cry that made the Texas Chainsaw Massacre ILLEGAL for so many years, and if you're a parent who looked at that film and got it confused with the Rainbow Bright Christmas Special, it is you they should come for, not my video...
So, keep the kids out of adult entertainment if you're worried. But equally pernicious to me and my Joyful/Child-Man Mindset (Delete as you see fit) is when it works the other way. Some wonderful entertainments are deemed just for children, or (and this is the unfair bit) to any adult who happens to have a clutch of these gurgling bed-moisteners to hand.
The fact that I don't have children is what is preventing me from going to a sleepover at the national history museum tonight.
Yes.. a FUCKING Sleepover at the National History Museum. And yes, you sleep in the shadow of the giant dinosaur skeleton.
(Incidentally if that doesn't sound like an amazing way to spend the saturday night that I'd usually spend in a club, please leave this blog now and have a cardiac specialist xray the lump of cold, dead carbon in your chest)
I can't do that because you need to have a group of kids with you. Now I don't particularly want to go there because I deal kids pretty much how a rational person deals with wasps. If they aren't in my face I ignore them. If they get in my face I try and shoo them away, but if they are on mass I get the fuck out of there.
Sadly, for some reason, they don't see this as an activity that requires an 'adults' night... so I would have just plugged in my earphones to drown out the amassed child-babble and fallen into a smiling sleep whilst focusing on the dinosaur bones and feeling that I was somehow fulfilling an ambition from when I was an equally nauseating brat. This is happening at other museums too, and Kew gardens and the like... all with the additional fee on top of the ticket price, of spending some time looking after a smaller person who might urinate on themselves.
This has impacted on my life before. At one of the last Big Chill festivals, before that once mighty gathering reached its sad and ignoble end (Which I attended, and wept) they advertised a petting zoo. My Then Girlfriend was particularly thrilled by this idea, and while there was no music on we decided to venture towards the 'kids field' an expanse that took up a third of the entire site, and was incredibly sparsely populated. When we arrived we were told we couldn't come in, because we hadn't decided to jumble our DNA together, squirt it into a skin sack and carry it around with us for the rest of our natural lives.
Funnily enough, I don't remember the one third discount from the ticket price for not being able to use that proportion of the field. I also don't remember that the tickets for 'non-breeders' were exclusively made available to 'rampant child-abductors who desperately want the sod of smug little sod-child who would be at the Big Chill' or that kind of 'Giant from Jack and The Beanstalk who Grinds Kids Bones to make their bread'
Ok, Rant over.
I don't begrudge you your child. Just don't expect me to share your delight in them and definitely don't expect me to give enough of a shit to want to harm them in any way.
I agree to not swear in their presence, or watch Hardcore porn where they might see, or watch Driller Killer in a nursery, and you can agree to keep them well out of my life.
Oh, and don't let them stand between me and having some quality time with a dinosaur... Deal?
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