Roundup of childfree rants from Jandi

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You'll see them by the bushel, my friends, because damn near every sub-mornoic wretch on the planet has taken a notion to breed.

Never mind that children are as charming as hemorrhoids on a corpse. Never mind that the world's population growth has reached a crisis point. Never mind that anybody who would actually stoop to having children is an idiotic goat worthy of immediate execution.

Those who have been selfish and stupid enough to breed have turned simple procedures such as going to restaurants, attending theatres, and going shopping into a nightmarish ordeal of rthe rest of us. Oh, but we're all supposed to be charmed by children. Kids are supposed to be appealing, with their fucked-up little faces, horrific screeching voices, and chronically leaking orifices.

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Children serve as the ultimate excuse.

Ever work with somebody who's got kids? What a colossal pain in the ass. I'm sure you've had this experience, because damn near everybody on the planet has got kids. Good luck trying to secure employment with people who don't have kids. Every time one of the little brats sneezes, there goes the concerned parent flying out the door.

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Birth control is the most sacred gift ever given to humanity.

What a pity the bulk of mankind is too fucking stupid to use it.

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A breeder. God, how unique. How different. How noteworthy. The only thing the wearer of this shirt seems to be announcing is that not only did she drop down like some brain-dead cow in the pasture and shit out a quivering, screeching blob of tissue, but now her own ugly, resource-sucking, useless children have done so, as well. What talent it must take! How remarkable! Let the heavenly host sing "Halellujah"! More people to clog up the planet. More disgusting, screaming children. More dolts who have the audacity to call themselves "parents".

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What about the adults who are in need of help? Does anybody even give a damn about them anymore? It's doubtful, because everybody's so bloody concerned about the poor little rugrats. In fact, the only way an adult can usually get charity at all is if they have some horrid little runt clinging to them.

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"Tough shit", you mutter, almost wearing ot your monosyllabic vocabulary. Because in typical breeder fashion, your children don't really matter one little bit. It's all about YOU and your convenience. You want Chinese food, so you don't give a crap whose evening you wreck with your screeching brats--or whether or not your children will even be able to eat the food served to them.

Look around the restaurant the next time you walk in with your kids. Maybe then you'll finally notice the collective eye-rolling and quiet groans of all the other customers who take one look at your wretched little brats and wish to hell that you'd explode.

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Your kids are out of control. They're screamining, whining and scrambling around like demon-possessed weasels. But what do you care? You got what you wanted. And after all, you're oblivious to the hideous racket that your kids generate, because you never bother trying to stop it at home, either. No, you just let it roll on like the soundtrack to the world's worse horror film, while the rest of the customers secretly fantasize about disemboweling you.

Everyone's having a perfectly horrible time now, thanks to your usual glaring lack of concern. Except you, naturally. You're having a great time, which is all that matters to you, you selfish pile of shit.

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So you've got your own holiday. How nice.

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You are not special because you are a mother. Any animal can squat down and shit out a runt. You do not deserve any special privileges. If anything, you should be declared an enemy of the state. You should be severely fined by the government for each child you produce, because you're bringing a burden on the economy.

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So, allow me to conclude this little tribute by saying thank you, Mommie Dearest, for uploading another crushing burden upon a planet that can no longer support it. Thank you, you stupid, retarded sow, for subjecting us to your screamining little Ashliees, Maddysons, Bhrendans or whatever ghastly misspelled name you chose to assign to this year's model of bastardhood. And thank you, above all, for setting women back two thousand years by throwing your career in the shitter and popping out child after child like some kind of genetically damaged farm animal.

Don't fool yourself, bitch. Even if you're still working, you're a Mommy first.

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It's high time somebody handed these censorship-loving, baby-worshipping jackasses a clue. Just because a witless posse of breeders has decided to bless the earth with their snot-chewing hellspawn does NOT give them the right to legislate public morality (as if these brain-dea cretins were intelligent enough to comprehend moral issues in the first place).

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The bottom line is that children have nothing to do wtih the current pro-censorship hysteria. Here's a theory: I suspect that most parents operate on a clinical infantile regression mode. Think about it. They're professional losers. They cannot handle REAL adult input on any conceivable level. So they spawn children, instead. It's not as if it takes any brains or talent. This way, these mental midgets get to remain surrounded by baby blankets, diapers, kiddie toys, peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, children's television, and the omnipresent babyshit. These things will effectively kep them sheltered from the realities of the adult world, in which they are not mentally equipped to survive. WHen one kid outgrows the baby toys, whatch how fast the average breeder will shit out another kid to make up for it. What sane adults would want to be surrounded 4-7 by plastic baby toys and other related garbage? Answer: NONE.

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Of course, the childfree community recognizes the entire scenario for the bullshit it is. Having children is a lifestyle choice. And that's the sticking point. Choice. The idea of CHOICE bothers these people down to their very souls.