April 13, 2006

The Third Annual Week of Loathing (Day the Fourth): Children

For the penultimate day of our Third Annual Week of Loathing, we decided to come up with a topic that would make us a big e-hit. You know, something that would turn legions of soccer moms into undying (and dying) devotees of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.”

The only snag, of course, is that we could not instantaneously happen upon a fitting target for contumely. Naturally, we needed a topic that would rile any sentient citizen up. Hitler, Mao, Billy Joel—we needed a heavy-hitter of evil.

And then it (figuratively) hit us—a prime suspect for demolition. No, dear reader, not Ritz crackers, although we’ve always found them disgusting. Rather, we have an even better idea: Children.

We mean, come on: Who in his (or her) right (or left) mind doesn’t detest (or hate) children? We can’t think of anyone.

Admittedly, the little tykes are often cute, which gives them one step up on, say, Roseanne. Also, some of them are particularly good dressers: How many adults do you know that can pull off multicolored overalls? Other than Richard Simmons? Not many, we’d say.

Despite these undeniable good points, children are otherwise contemptible. Anyone who believes that they’re beacons of truth hasn’t spent a minute with them. Moreover, the truth isn’t always a good thing: Do you really need to know that a five-year-old thinks you’re ugly? To be honest, dear reader, we think not.

In fact, children never tell the truth about things of which we ought to be aware: Whether they stole a cookie from the cookie jar; if liberating Iraq would prove to be a bad strategic decision; &c. Rather, their honesty tends to stay in the “your teeth are really yellow” realm.

And then there’s the horrible noise. Do we really need to inform you that children can magically ruin almost any occasion in an instant? They can even destroy events meant specifically for them: One small public defecation can soil a whole day at Disney World, so to say. Their lung power, moreover, is matched only by their inability to discern the appropriate time for tantrums.

So, come on, people: Admitting that kids are a royal pain in the can doesn’t amount to being a part of Alan Keyes’ Radical Homosexual Agenda. Unless you’re Ryan Seacrest, of course. Fess up: Children are a nuisance, and, if you have one, you ought never go to a restaurant with him until he’s 19.

Posted at April 13, 2006 12:01 AM | TrackBack