I hate when people speak to their kids in baby talk. It’s annoying. Then people wonder why their kids turn out to be mental midgets with no social grace and an inability to function in the real world. It’s because when they were young the dipshit parents were saying, “Ohh, did you make a poopsy whoopsy?” or “We yum yum cum cum in our tum tum.” I want to walk over to those people, backhand them, take their babies away, and say, “You are an asshole. You do not deserve that baby.” And then I will walk away, baby under my arm, and I’ll go down to the river, down to the river we ride, and I’ll yell to the bushes, “Hey, junkies! Who wants a baby? I’ll give you $20 to take this baby.” I’ll stand there until all the eager junkies get into a single-file line and I will inspect them one by one until I find the absolute most shot-out one and I will say, “You. You will teach this baby the ways of this world.” And I’ll hand the child off to the fiend. He’ll ask where his $20 is and I’ll say, “Do you have change for a hundred? No? Then I’ll have to owe you.” I’ll turn my back and leave that child to be spoken to like an adult, to learn how to make it in this cold world without any care about a load of “poopsy whoopsy” in its dungarees. Maybe the junkie will teach the baby the difference between its inside voice and its outside voice. I don’t know. I don’t care. I don’t care if the only thing the baby learns is which is its best vein, it’ll still be better off than being raised by the type of animals that use baby talk on kids.
By CHRIS NIERATKO (whoever that is)