Okay, so I’ve got this billion dollar idea and I figured, what smarter thing to do than to just broadcast it over the internet, right? Right. Okay, so here goes: As some of you may know, I’ve got a kid. He’s almost two, pretty cool and generally, besides his early schedule, his constant throwing of things and his pants-shittery, he’s pretty all right to be around. Hell, I’d even say it’s some of my favorite times I’ve ever had, just hanging with the little dude. Now, I’ve got another kid on the way. That too is pretty cool. I’m sure I’m gonna like her at least as much as I like this old one, and well, that’s why we do it, right? That’s the whole instinct-to-propagate-the-species thing. You trade in your dignity and your late mornings and your hangovers and your friends and your sense of being ‘with it’ for some sort of nebulous joy-like feeling that you can only truly access as a memory. Nice.
Well, here’s the other thing about kids: they’ll scare the shit out of you. Oh, it’s not just child molesters, safes falling from the sky and swine flu either. There’s all sorts of shit that will absolutely TERRIFY you about having a kid. Is she too stupid? Too smart? A biter? A pussy? A bully? Retarded? An asshole? Gonna grow up to do interracial gangbang porn? Are we gonna be friends? Will we have a rapport? Is he gonna get into (the) drugs? The list goes on and on.
Now, the very intelligent people who puppeteer the western world vis a vis corporate globalism have picked up on this crazy fear that parents have and they’ve made products to combat them all. And this shit sells, boy. Go to Babies R Us (actually, don’t. It’s a horrible place) and you’ll see sheets that are marketed essentially as “the only sheets that WON’T kill your baby!!!!” and crib bumpers that are ‘the choice of non-negligent parents everywhere.’ It’s the kind of marketing that most sectors can only dream of employing. They’re capitalizing on an irrational and all consuming fear and pushing products on (by and large) people who have NEVER dealt with this shit before.
So, I’m sitting here on day three of my five-day weekend and I’m thinking, “how can I maximize my earning potential, eh?” Of course, marketing something to parents comes instantly to mind. I mean, just from where I sit, I see some baby wipes, a truck, a changing pad, a face-down panda, some of those fucking things that keep babies out from under the sink and plug guards, and we’re generally pretty relaxed as far as panicking/buying unnecessary shit. So, that’s settled. If I’m gonna get rich quick, I’m marketing some shit that will purport to improve or otherwise save your baby.
Okay, what’s the biggest problem that kids and parents seem to have? That’s easy: messy room. I mean, watch any sitcom or any kids show or ANYTHING at all and you’ll quickly notice that the messy room is the lynchpin of child-parent skirmishing. There we go. Problem identified. Next: Solution.
I was thinking, well, you need to get the child to WANT to keep their room clean, right? Obviously, our worn out tactics of nagging and hiding the xbox aren’t doing shit. We need to reprogram them. So a little Freud later, I’ve got the solution:
My new book, entitled “Nobody Poops But You!” is guaranteed to keep your child’s room (and the rest of your house, probably) absolutely spotless until they go away to college. Just read “Nobody Poops But You” to your child from about eight months until they’re about nine after every bowel movement and you’ll be on your way to a fastidious, tidy child, and hey, what could be better than that? Am I right? Of course I am. Best part about it? No drugs, no surgery, no yelling. Just a simple reprogramming that makes your child feel like the most filthy, anal retentive being on the planet. That’s right. Send your check for 49.95 to….ah fuck. I just went to nobodypoopsbutyou.com and apparently there’s already some wise ass out there using my idea. And it doesn’t even seem to be properly marketed as a child improvement device. Total bullshit if you ask me. Fuck.
Did I mention that playing that show that benefited the darfurian refugees was really fun? It was. The kids in the audience were all about seventeen and I’ve never felt so ancient. I mispronounced the name of “medina lake” I made the first word rhyme with vagina, instead of subpoena. But what the fuck? I can’t keep up with this nu metal bush league bullshit. I’ve got last year’s unimportant punk rock to study. Um, what else? I was drinking tea on stage and my kid was there. It was a real old-ass man kind of feeling up there. Except for the fact that I cursed like a sailor, only to be notified afterwards that cursing was strictly forbidden. Oh well. Not like they all got brutally rounded up and executed or anything. I’m sure these kids will get over the occasional ‘go fuck yourself’ just fine.
Okay, I got shit to do. I gotta get a new scheme in place, and fast.