It’s father’s day and boy am I thankful I’ve survived another year without impregnating some random witch that has flown my way. The key is to splash them with a bucket of water right after you ejaculate. They slowly melt away and die, and you get to go to sleep without some sweaty girl trying to cuddle with you and talk about ‘taking things to the next level’.
With that said, I hope I don’t have any children anytime soon. Children require your attention and cry if you don’t buy them things… if I wanted either of those qualities in someone else I would have kept my girlfriend around. Though when I think about it, I would consider adopting kids. But I’d only do it if the government approved me using them as slaves. Seriously, if I’m going to feed, cloth, and support these little bastards the least they could do is carry around some 50 pound potato sacks. Of course I would only be willing to adopt kids from Africa. Please don’t take that as a racist thing, because it’s not… it’s a genetics thing. If you were given the choice of child slave, would you choose some little Asian orphan that can hardly lift a stack of Twilight books, some Spanish twerp that kicks around soccer balls instead of building the dungeon like he’s supposed to, or a 6′6 ft 8 year old African that can bench press an elephant and pay his way through college with a football? Exactly.
Whether I decide to adopt or have a little child of my own, it won’t be for awhile, as I think 23 is too young to worry about anyone other than yourself. Fulfill yourself before you attempt to fulfill another. Blah blah blah chase your dreams (currently mine are serving Mexican food, staying up late and sleeping in).
Father’s Day… the most confusing day in Harlem,
Daniel Dickey
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