I don't want to write this. How can I possibly write this?
There's
a phrase I'm going to have to use here... no, you know what, I actually
don't have to use the phrase, or word, or made-up word, or whatever
fucking horrible sentiment I've decided can be playful enough for me to
arrogantly expound towards another questionably humorous, insightful, or
even remotely necessary point.
Yes, what is the point? Do I need
to have one clearly in mind before I begin? I bet you're wishing that I
did about now, and maybe I do. But I also like to discover it along the
way. Part of the joy I find in writing these... things, are the
epiphanies and opportunities that pop up unexpectedly throughout the
neurotic voyage. You never know when the right progression or joyful
understanding is going to arrive. Those surprises are often the defining
gifts of life.
So that's my attempt at a pleasant introduction
that simultaneously compliments the miracle of childbirth and prepares
everyone for the babyfucker discussion.
I was
recently reminded that I once proclaimed "babyfucker" to be one of the
seven worst words in modern usage
(http://hencemyselfloathing.blogspot.com/2010/06/new-se7en-dirty-words-and-gay-tangent.html).
The problem here is that nobody ever uses that term, because it's too
terrible to even mildly consider. Why would we ever say that? The only
point I can make is that it's obviously worse than "motherfucker", hence
it's placement on the list.
I'll prove it. Imagine an historical
figure, someone decent. Let's go with Lincoln. We can all still back
him, right? So let's say we uncover some fucked up national treasures (I
don't know, like a horse & buggy confession show, or those
old-tymey photos maybe?) that prove that Abraham Lincoln had sexual
intercourse with his no doubt statuesque building of a mother.
"Aww, fuck man, Lincoln? Really? In the log cabin and everything? Jesus... well, alright."
It would be tough, but we'd have to deal with it, right? Give him the mulligan.
Now, just barely imagine, if you can, that Abraham Lincoln had... intercoursed, a baby.
There aren't enough vampires in the world that you could kill in order to erase a single act of babyfucking.
That's
game over, man, for anyone. Even Hitler's stock would go down with some
uncovered- I don't even want to say the word anymore. It's that bad of a
thing. We would think less of Adolf Hitler if we discovered his
propensity for, or even momentary indulgence in... no, babyfucking is
the only way to say it.
And how could we possibly think less of
Hitler? He's our barometer for ludicrously evil. He's so awful that he's
sort of cartoonish now. I guarantee there's been more lampooning of
Hitler than actual representation, and I understand why. It still feels
good to take the dead piss out of his rotting,
mutant-possum-with-the-Se7en-strap-on-fucked corpse (absolutely
appropriate).
We love to stick it to him.
It's a bit of a turn on our initial reaction though.
"Who? In Germany? And he's doing what now? Holy shit. Hmm... Jews, huh? My, my my. Let's wait this one out a bit."
That's
overly simplistic and not at all a fair representation of what probably
happened, but it's rooted in enough truth to make me laugh in my
underwear in that playfully anti-Semitic, American way.
But
isolationism doesn't work. You can't shut yourself off from the world
and expect not to be sucked back into its problems. Sure, you can get a
hotel room and close the drapes and ignore texts, but that's not going
to stop the Japanese from bombing the shit out of you (with housekeeping
knocks, or whatever).
You've got to be involved. You have to go out, meet people, interact, and yes, occasionally make babies.
Because as weird as they are, and as lost as you can get within the existential dilemma of their stares, babies are alright.
Usually.
Hey,
even Hitler was a baby, right? And you know what, maybe he was
babyfucked. Maybe that's exactly what happens when, that, happens...
You
see where the mind goes when it's tucked away from humanity? Jerking
off through a haze of troubled thoughts and questionable ethics that are
shouted down by your better angels for recognition of the ever-looming
optimism inherent in everyday victories and pleasant sights and sounds
and strangers, flaunting their simple grace in extended perfection as
you're reminded of why the extremes of newborns and Hitler are worth the
often muddled middle, regardless of the confusion your analysis of it
may bring, because the expansion of life, thought, and community, the
greater numbers within the argument towards a greater life, the basic
symbolism of meaningful progression through procreation, is always
stronger than these babyfucking Nazi agendas.
So I guess you should fuck and vote, or something.
Whatever you want, I shouldn't be making decisions.
