Let's Stop Reproducing!

By Johnny Apocalypse

May 1, 2011

So there I was, wandering around the supermarket in search of cheap food. I enter and I'll and come to find a woman chasing after an eight year old kid. My initial thoughts were "pedophilic kidnapper!". I was about to jump in and kick some child molester ass, when the rational part of my brain said "hey man, it's probably her kid. Relax for a second."

When she shouted "Tony, come back here!" I figured that it was indeed her child. I proceeded to watch the debacle. In about thirty seconds time, the mother chased her kid up and down the aisle, while the kid dodged her grasp, laughed, shouted and started knocking things off of the shelves. When he knocked a tub of coffee onto the floor I was about to kick his ass, but I remembered that "defense of coffee" is not a legal defense, regardless of how I feel about it.

The end results of the catastrophe were three broken jars of applesauce, a tub of coffee recklessly hurled to the ground, one out of breath mother, and one punk toddler laughing like crazy over the mess he made. For about the millionth time in my life, I wondered why the hell anyone would put themselves through that.

Let's face it, kids aren't always that great. Sure, they can be cute and fun, but they can also be the most annoying things on the planet. They cry, they crap a lot, they break stuff, they steal your cell phone and hide it. You're probably thinking something along the lines of "it's all about how you raise them", but trust me, even the greatest parent in the world is going to have a kid who occasionally misbehaves.

For over ten years, I've been thoroughly against having children. I'm planning to get a vasectomy, and have been tempted to perform one on myself (it doesn't look that hard). I'll be the first to admit that kids can be fun --- playing with them, teaching them stuff, and so forth. But sooner or later the kids are going to piss me off. That's just the nature of children. Be cool for a bit, then act like they're demonically possessed and start trashing the place, screaming the entire time.

I've recently decided that simply not having children myself just isn't enough. I think we all need to stop reproducing. We'll all live simpler lives, have less heart attacks, ulcers and gray hair, and no one will get arrested for hurling a tantrum-throwing brat through a glass window. Plus we'll effectively halt pedophiles in their tracks. It's just like preventing theft, "remove the temptation".

So I've started thinking about ways to get the world to stop reproducing. The simplest way would, of course, be through dictatorial methods. I take over the world, assume power, and my first order is that everyone stops repopulating (my second order would likely involve nude redheads serving me coffee). Set up temporary vasectomy clinics everywhere for men (since tube-tying on the ladies isn't 100% effective), and mandate that all men get clipped within a certain time-frame.

Of course, I've never been a fan of dictatorships, and we'd get the inevitable underground baby-trade. People "off the networks" who don't get vasectomies and shun birth control and start popping out black-market babies. So the next option would have to be convincing everyone to stop having kids.

Think about this for a minute. If you think that it would be impossible to end the debates over abortion and the death penalty, try convincing people to stop reproducing. The best argument I have convinces me, but it's far from fool-proof. "Sooner or later, all kids become teenagers". Man, do I hate teenagers.

A few weeks ago, I was walking backwards in the park. I had a lot on my mind, was in a lousy mood, and breathing deeply while walking in the park is an effective way for me to relieve this, even though I know I look silly doing it.

Along come three teenagers, either skipping class or on spring break, and they start laughing and making jokes about the weirdo walking backwards. Not my problem, I was working on my mental health. Then, one of the teens thinks it would be funny to sneak up behind me and trip me.

Turns out, it was funny. I hit the ground laughing. I have no idea why, but I was laughing my ass off.

Instead of deciding that his prank was a bust and to move on with his life, the teenager standing at my side gets upset. Why? Because I wasn't upset. Brilliant. "What the fuck are you laughing at?" he demands. I'm too busy laughing to answer, so he asks again, punctuating his question by kicking me in the side of the hip. Hard.

Now, the hip is a sturdy bone, but along each side runs a big, tasty nerve. Some call it the sciatic nerve, others the common peronial nerve (I'm not looking it up). Crushing this nerve against the hip-bone hurts. A lot. It would likely make a good fighting tactic, come to think of it. And even though I'm in some pain, my anger over the teen's stupidity, as well as my general hatred of teenagers, takes over. I roll to my side and punch the punk straight in the balls.

Walking backwards may calm my mind, but nothing makes a good day like punching a teen in the nuts.

Now where was I? Right, reproduction. So I don't want to dictator my way into stopping reproduction, I'm not smart enough to convince everyone to stop reproducing, what's left? Democratic methods! By which I mean "democratic" methods.

We propose a law to outlaw vaginal sex. Anal and oral sex were outlawed for ages, and to my knowledge is still illegal in the military (and a soldier who doesn't dig getting some oral is nary a soldier in my book). We hold the election, and either use the "Citizen Kane" method where the dead appear to be voting against vaginal sex, or we bribe the hell out of some polling officials, and by a landslide margin, a man can no longer plug his unit into his wife's/girlfriend's/mistress's/one-night-stand's pussy. No vaginal sex means no more children. And if you get an immaculate conception from anal sex, it may be the Anti-Christ.

The beautiful thing about this law is that if anyone turns up pregnant, they can be immediately arrested for breaking the law. Try beating a conviction with pregnancy as the prosecution's evidence!

Well, enough of that nonsense. Stop procreating and we'll all be happier. End of story. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to find a redhead to serve me coffee in the buff.


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