To The Proud Parents

When people send me pictures of their kids I usually do one of three things. If I’m busy, which is rare these days, I will just ignore the message and delete it when I’m in OCD purge mode. If I’m feeling mean, which is about 75% of the time, I’ll text back:

OMFG tell me that’s not yours…what’s wrong with its head?

Or the always timeless:

LMAO I can’t wait to see what deformed troll shot out that turd

These kinds of responses can usually guarantee that you won’t be receiving anymore pictures of their ‘adorable’ little angel. You can also pretty much guarantee that you will never hear from the parents again. In my book, I call this a win-win. There’s something about having kids that turns people into basic, robot like versions of their former selves.

Fortunately, I didn’t like most of these people to begin with, so its not really much of a loss. I just can’t get on board with populating the world with more mindless consumers. It’s probably one of the top three reasons I sometimes choose to be gay. Contrary to the liberal media, it is a choice.

If my second technique fails to send the (in)appropriate message, I inevitably have to resort to the third and probably most disturbing method. Which usually goes something like this:

Anne and Todd, college acquaintances AT BEST, text me a recent snapshot of their google eyes puddle of mashed potatoes. How they got my new phone number is still a mystery. I have to assume I’m one of 97 people they sent this abomination to, and they are curled together on an Ikea couch somewhere watching Grey’s Anatomy and intermitanly weeping and giggling, anxiously awaiting replies. Now remember, I’ve basically warned Anne and Todd. First by ignoring them, and second when I sent them a hateful response.

What a spooky new lawn gnome you guys bought

They were obviously too dense to pick up what I was throwing down. Either that or they’d depleted their already dull synapses by procreating. Time for drastic measures.

I pop open a chrome window and google search ‘hardcore hentai porn’. After a few minutes of scrolling, I find just what I’m looking for. It’s an animated image of Snow White, tied to a wooden table and getting gangbanged by the seven dwarves. She actually seems to be enjoying the attention, and if memory serves, there was quite a bit of fisting involved. I send it to Anne and Todd with a message underneath the picture.

Make sure the little one sees this too LOLZ

They never speak to me again – mission accomplished.

Should this third method fail, and it hasn’t yet, I do have a loose idea for a fourth technique that involves sending the couple’s baby picture to kiddie porn traffickers in Iceland.

I haven’t firmed up all the details yet, but hopefully it never comes to that.

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