I'm sure you understand that I agree that there are too many children, and by extension too many people. I get really, really pissed when I see people with large families, and frankly I don't see many. But when I was down at Roger Williams Park in RI three weeks ago and they had an event for kids that night (some dinosaur thing), there were HUGE families everywhere, and I don't like it. And what I don't like needs to go away from me.
I don't know why, but I hate people who stupidly decide to have nine kids, or even one. Sure, they're kicking my evolutionary ass. But is there anything more fucking annoying than a kid who isn't yours? I almost kicked about 50 of them. Their fat little fingers up their fat, little noses, their blank penguin stares, the screaming and yelling, the demands for this and that. Shut the fuck up and exit my life.
My balls never worked, and to avoid a life threatening cancer they removed one. By "they" I mean the ice cream man and the UPS girl. Actually, it was a urologist. Sadly, I'll never be the father to a testicular cancer, either. But even before that, my thunder had no lightning. I wish they took both of my testicles, though, as then I could get kicked in the crotch without the painful aftermath. I was kicked in the nuts exactly once, by a guy, and I literally almost passed out. I'm not sure, but I think it was Admiral James Stockdale, Ross Perot's running mate in 1992. Anyway, I could do without the dangling "off" button betwixt my legs.
Over the years, several therapists have considered, as have I, that my infertility and numerous other health problems have made me feel abnormal. That could be, yes. But there is a big difference between wanting to be free of suicidal thoughts, self-destructive adventures and mind-crushing depression and anxiety, and wanting to be "normal."
I've seen "normal," and I don't like it. I mean I REALLY don't like it. Smart people giving up risky ambition to feed a child? Sure, that's normal. But I don't like it. I hate it, actually. A friend of mine sent out invitations to his daughter's birthday, her FIRST birthday. The kid is sitting in her own shit and I'm supposed to thoughtfully consider a present? Buy a fucking Carvel cake and cut it with a hot knife. Jesus.
So maybe it would have been interesting to me to have once been fertile. However, I don't think it would have ever been more than "interesting." And as we've been discussing, it may have been just awful. I'm a self-centered, neurotic, nihilistic prick who seriously looks forward to non-existence. You don't call an abomination like that, "Daddy!"
It would be nice to have the feeling back where they made the incision on the right side of my crotch, but that's only because it's a strange numbness that compels me to fondle it as I recline in bed at night.
Would you like to feel my numb crotch scar? What? I'm insulted! Now somebody cut the fucking cake.