Please, don't reproduce

I hate children. When a child comes toddling up to me, I don’t coo, and I don’t get all fuzzy. I don’t see an adorable angel face.

Instead I see a snot factory and a petri dish. Jesus loves the little children; I do not.

The only thing that rivals my distaste for kids, however, is my prejudice against stupid people. It pains me to listen to them ramble so ineloquently at the bus stop. I swear sometimes it makes my ears bleed.

So it should come as no real surprise that it drives me crazy when intellectually inept individuals reproduce. It always seems like the pregnancy comes as a surprise inevitably following such infallible logic as “Condoms don’t feel good.”

The callous fact of the matter, however, is some people should just not have children. The tragedy is that these buffoons seem to be popping out more offspring than anyone.

In order to stunt the growth of an idiocracy, there needs to be a shallowing of the gene pool to rid humanity of the archetypal imbecile. To attain this goal, I believe that we should enact measures to prevent stupid people from reproducing.

There needs to be a class everyone should pass before being allowed to become a parent. Why should adoptive parents be the only ones subjected to rigorous screenings and tests to confirm parental competency?

Therefore, whenever any couple decides they are ready to undertake child rearing, adoptive or conceptive, they can begin coursework and screening to prove they are physically, emotionally, intellectually and, yes, fiscally capable.

To ensure that individuals do not reproduce prematurely, every person reaching sexual viability will undergo a reversible process rendering their respective organs reproductively ineffective.

Not only would this plan cut down on unwanted pregnancy and the resulting share of abortions, but it would also prevent children from growing up in abusive, drug-ridden and otherwise negligent households.

Sure there is a chance that STI rates might rise, but frankly if you lack the common sense to use a condom, you brought that on yourself, right?

I know this dream is decades away from practical feasibility, but I can always hope. Thus, in the light of the approaching Valentine’s Day, I’ll leave you with a single plea.

When you put on that slow jam and start to get in the mood, use protection. I’d even recommend using two different types of birth control for a figurative double bag. I’m not ready for a diminutive version of you to be running around.

So please for your sake and mine, wrap it up before you clap it up, and remember, pregnancy is the worst STI.


E-mail: smech@indiana.edu