Sit down. Stand up.

Today I was thinking about how scared I am to have kids. It’s partly because I don’t want to have the responsibilities and lack of freedom that comes with being a parent, but mainly it’s because I don’t want them to grow up to be like me. I don’t mean a high school dropout who drinks and smokes and has problems meeting women, I mean I don’t want them to grow up to be complacent. I mean sure, I have been known to break a few laws here and there, but I hardly think petty theft and trespassing can really be considered as “sticking it to the man.” I carry around a lock pick set in my pocket but I hardly ever use it for anything besides a neat trick to show off to friends or a way to take a late night dip in the public pool at one in the morning. I have plans for the future, I’m going to college, I have goals set with the intent of reaching them. It would break my heart to see my child falling into the same habits as me. If I ever had kids I would raise them to be little bastards with hopes that someday they would break into the white house and take a crap in the oval office. I want to see my little son/daughters mug shot on every TV screen and newspaper, I want to tell the reporters in a way that seems sincere “No, I have no idea what compelled them to release all the animals from the zoo and lock up people in the cages. They used to be such a good kid.”

Basically what I’m saying here is that if you don’t mind explaining to the cops exactly how your child managed to steal a tank and drive it through the walls of a state penitentiary to break out his jail buddies, maybe we could get coffee sometime.