Howzabout we just pretend I never said anything, and you can all crawl back into the sewer?

Wow. Just … wow.

I’ve gotten quite an education over the past couple of days about a controversy I never knew existed.

There apparently are battle lines drawn out there. On one side are the Childfree (a single word, I’ve learned), and on the other side are the Childed (what most people refer to as “Parents,” and what the angry faction of the Childfree movement refers to as “Breeders”; they also refer to mothers as “Moos” and fathers as “Duhdees” … and, I swear to Christ, I’m not making this up).

When I sat down to write my “So now I’m the unwitting poster child for why people shouldn’t have children?” entry the other day, I said to myself, “Self, this seems like a relatively entertaining topic … the fact that your tongue-in-cheek ‘Kids for Sale’ thing is being waved as a flag around which to rally those who have chosen to be child-free.”

And so I wrote my little “So now I’m the unwitting poster child …” thing, and I posted it, and I mostly got what I expected: lots of comments from the many parents who read this site and could relate to what I was saying about being a parent.

I also expected to hear from some in the Childfree camp, and I can understand why a few of them may have taken issue with what I wrote, because its tone was harsh … which, in all honesty, didn’t have a thing to do with me having any kind of opinion — good, bad or indifferent — about people who don’t have kids (because, truth be told, I really, really, really couldn’t care less whether or not another human being has chosen to procreate; I have enough shit of my own to worry about, thank you); what it actually had to do with was the fact that I mostly paint with fluorescent, Day-Glo colors here, because I’m trying to make this shit leap off the page, not blend in with the wallpaper. Yes, when it comes to taking poetic license (or literary license, as it were), I flail about with wild abandon.

If my remarks were directed at any singular entity, that entity was not the general Childfree population, but rather the author of HappilyChildFree.com — partly because I felt like he/she was taking something I wrote and using it in a manner that misrepresented my true feelings … and mostly because the simple fact that he/she had decided to link to my “Kids For Sale” entry gave me something interesting to write about.

Of course, what I didn’t realize at the time was that I was about to walk into a shit storm. You know, ’cause that’s what I need.

Had I taken the time to really dig into HappilyChildFree.com before writing my piece, I maybe would have thought twice about posting it, because what I assumed was probably just a harmless little blog that had benignly linked to my “Kids For Sale” entry turns out to be one of many tiny tent poles propping up the slime-covered canopy under which the aforementioned angry faction of the Childfree movement — whose presence, I swear, I was completely unaware of before I stepped on this landmine — huddles together all hunched over and cackles about us awful Breeders whilst rubbing together their cloven hooves and burning holes in the ground with their “Alien”-like drool.

As fate would have it, I didn’t find that out until after the fact … which explains how I inadvertently placed myself in the crosshairs of a small number of lunatics — some of whom, for the sake of example, have created a messageboard thread all about me (so flattered!) at the insightfully titled BratFree.com, where they’ve written things like this:

“… And like clockwork, [the “Kids For Sale” entry is] followed by a post with a GIANT picture of the GirlBrat’s mug (sitting in a bathtub, HOW original) yammering about how such a hellion could be so sweet and delighful.”

“Use protection next time, DUH.”

“Duhddies are more delusional than the moos.”

“This is probably the type of prick who put more thought into the colour of his car than he thought about having kids.”

And my personal favorite:

“DAMN YOU. Now I want to find this guy and KILL HIM.”

Honorable mention goes to the following two comments, left just now by a couple of troglodyte spawn who slithered over here from that messageboard and used their rat-like noses to peck this out on their keyboards:

“Ugly kids your balljuice created. Gross.”

“Wow, you write just like Dave Barry. I hate Dave Barry. Almost as much as I hate ‘Candyland’ but that’s neither here nor there. Oh, and kids suck.”

Actually, that last one there is more of a backhanded compliment … so, um … thanks!

Now, to be clear: I know that, much like White Supremacists don’t represent all caucasians, these sick, twisted, mouth-breathing fuckheads don’t represent the entire Childfree population, which I’ve seen firsthand is also occupied by completely sane, compassionate, reasonable adults. It’s like my grandfather (Grandbreeder?) used to say: “There’s always a shithead in every group.”

So, to the Shitheads: I’m very sorry I accidentally knocked over your cup of poison. It was not my intention to find some rancid little subsection of society that I could whip into a narcissistic frenzy; it was my intention to entertain the demographic that usually frequents this site … you know, the Breeders … the Moos … the Duhdees.

It has been very … eye-opening to make your acquaintance, but I’m all done with this topic, and I’m also all done hosting a battleground in my Comments. Yes, it’s very one-sided of me to deny you your voice from this point forward … but this is my little fiefdom, and I made it to share with those who are interested my experience of being, among other things, a father, and not to give you some place to vent your obvious unhappiness with the world.

By all means, you’re welcome to continue to come here and read things that will make your tiny little reptilian heads spin around and spout steam, if you like — after all, I get paid every time you view a page — but if you’re looking for someplace to spew invective, please kindly crawl back into the holes from whence you came. Or, hell, make yourselves some new holes … just as long as they’re not here. I would appreciate it … and, in return, I’ll never mention you again.

Love,

Duhdee Scratches

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