“I’ve got some terrible news for you. Your test results have come back…”
  “Oh god… it’s a tumor isn’t it doctor?”
  “I wish… No, I’m afraid it’s worse than that…”
  “Oh no… please not that… I’m so young… It’s too early for my life to be over…”
  “I’m so sorry you’re…”
  “Don’t say it doctor…”
  “You’re pregnant…”
  “NOOOOOOOOO”
  “Yes… and there’s nothing we can do.”
  “SCRAPE IT OUT…”
  “I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to anymore”
  “GET ME A COATHANGER”
  “They’re banned too. It is the future after all. They were replaced by the laser peg, specifically designed not to reach all the way to the fetus’ brain.”
  “GIVE ME ALL YOUR MORPHINE I WISH TO DIE…”
  “You really do like to cover all the political hot potatoes don’t you?”
  “Fuck you doctor.”
  “I’m not a doctor; I’m only actually trained to tell people about abstinence programs. Do you see my badge? It says ‘Just say no to the cock’”
  “Bit late for that.”
  “Praise the Jesus.”

 Yes… it’s a grim future indeed. It’s a future with children. None of us want that. Most right thinking people don’t want the ones we’ve got already… or the ones we had in the past. Look at the people in your office, in your home, in your pub, in the line at the shitty burger shop, etc. Now tell me this… The problem with abortion is not that it’s legal; it’s that it’s not mandatory.

 “But,” I hear you say, “it’s against nature to abort a little ‘baby’…” Wrong… pregnancies have been brought to a merciful halt all through history… It was a procedure known as “pregnant woman can’t outrun sabertooth tigers”. Why do we not take hints from nature? Look, if you really want to ban the clinical side of things, at least legalise the tigers. Let’s put every fucker back on an even footing.

 Am I being abrupt? Am I taking a light-hearted approach to a serious issue that really should be dealt with tactfully? Should I morally be saying this? Yes I should, because I’m actually smart enough to use some birth control… even if in many cases it’s the “too ugly to get laid” method. Thus I’ve taken care of my side of things and I can rightfully tell those who haven’t that their opinion, if it disagrees with mine, is worthless. It’s the same as when you’ve taken your turn in Scrabble and are hopelessly waiting for the other person to realize they only have the letters for “cat”.
 
 Barring the occasional accident with shoddy prophylactic workmanship - if you’re dumb enough to get pregnant you’re not smart enough to make a decision on what to do next… You’re certainly not smart enough that I want your genes clogging my inbox with penile enhancement adverts or forwarded quizzes on whether I’m a nice fucking person, a good friend, or any good in bed. It’s not like I need a quiz to point out my failings in all of the above.

 As many have pointed out before me, a collection of cells does not a person make. Nor do little flippers that look like hands if you squint. Nor do most of the people I see in the supermarket buying potato waffles. People believe that twenty-four weeks down the line you’ve got something that’s enough of a person to warrant not blending in the womb with a metal cocktail stirrer… I maintain that not that many people achieve that level of significance in twenty-four years. Hell, and if you discount old people when they reach that age where they’re more shrunken and gnarled than a cold elephant’s testicle, you’re getting into single digits on worthwhile inhalations of air a day.

 Faced with a growing influx of religious fundamentalism from every religion except the ever-lazy Buddhists, it’s basically only a matter of time before the human race devolves into something that believes there is really a little person in their TV talking to them. The irony is that this backward evolution will be dismissed by everyone as, at best, ‘Intelligent Design’, at worst as non-existent.
 The truth is though, it’s already visible… look at this example.

60’s & 70’s movies – Steve McQueen, Gene Hackman, Donald Sutherland, Charles Bronson, Sidney Poitier, Jane Fonda, Diane Keaton, etc, all in their prime before they either got old and crap or died.

90’s & 00’s movies – Martin Lawrence, Tim Allen, Tom Cruise, Madonna, Ashton Kutcher, and the cast of American Pie.

 Withered people with hilarious hair have been replaced by taught buttocks, people with ‘product’ in their hair, and an ever growing number of movies with people in fat-suits.  More importantly, Ugly People in movies are now too attractive for us to ever stand a chance with… yet… we’re increasingly questioning if we want any more than a brutal one-off hatefuck with them.
 
 The stars of the 60’s and 70’s were most likely to be pictured with Communists in a swamp dry-humping an anti-aircraft gun or pounding a string of filthy hippy chicks. The stars of the modern movies are more likely to have their Kaballah bracelets digitally removed at great expense or to believe in flying space trolls or, worst of all, get Born-Again and stop getting their tits out.
 We’re all culturally worse-off thanks to this depressing development.
 We also can’t say “fuck” on live TV while exposing a breast any more.

  This only reinforces the sense of smugness in people who spout about how any bun in any oven is a little darling and should be rushed into the world with all haste. Why is this? I reckon it’s because all these people like to piss sane people off and make sure they can’t get a fucking seat on the train.

 People complain I don’t contribute to society, that I’m a leech and a tic upon its anus… You know what though? I can maintain a semi-coherent conversation… Can your hyperactive, fire-starting, constantly mewling, three year old spawn do that? No? Can it do anything other than shit, destroy, and make a horrible noise? Can it read? Oh, wait, no, but on the plus side it can sing fucking songs it learnt from men in dinosaur suits on the television… and it can sing them really fucking loudly.

 But, I hear you say, it will grow up to be a person…

 Wrong… odds are it won’t.

 In fact your child will grow up to be a little turd that wears a baseball cap well into its thirties and spends the majority of its existence wanking like a Viagra-laced spider monkey. Oh, it’ll also probably commit a string of minor crimes and the odd major one.

 Now… let’s debate this… Possible burning in hell for impaling a cell-ball on the end of a knitting needle… or having your TV stolen, people talking during movies, fuck awful music playing from every shop doorway, a mile-long slick of puke running the length of every high street most evenings, and Big Momma’s House 2.

 You may think the world will be a better place with your children in it… You’re wrong. The world will be an even more miserable shitheap with more ignorant little wankers thinking with their holes and poles, murdering the English language, and sticking little purple striplights onto the bottom of their cars for no fathomable reason.

 But what of the future great artists, scientists, and general geniuses that a blanket ban on breeding would rob us of?
 I don’t want anyone else pickling cows and all the scientists are going to be rounded up and shot by religious nutters fairly soon. I say we accept some losses and write the whole thing off. Let the apes have a go, or the cockroaches, or whichever lots turn it is. I’m fairly sure we’ve managed to fuck up far worse than the dinosaurs. Right now the idea of a world run by hyper-evolved sloths shooting us with ray guns just seems so great I’m actually shedding a tear.

 Listen religious folk… you can shoot each other, burn each other, bomb each other, and ban each other from whatever you want. That fact that you have some conviction in the world having some epic plan to make you personally happy is fine. Yet telling me anything I want to do is wrong based on someone else’s ancient opinion is frankly too fucking much. Look, I’ll lay it down here:

 If you want to be a sanctimonious bastard, an angry crank, a killjoy, or a borderline fascist dictator… fine… Just have the balls to say it’s because it makes you feel superior and warm and fuzzy inside… It’s what YOU want. The above is what I’d quite like… and I’d quite like it because the above pisses me off… That’s my reasoning… that’s all I’m using as a justification… not a dead dude. Is that really such a daunting concept? Be a prick because you’re a prick for fuck’s sake.

back to duck.