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Humans absolutely love having children. That's not just my opinion, you can see it on charts. Some scientists even believe that the world's population is now so explosive and dangerously unsustainable that by 2050, the Earth will begin to tilt off its axis and float away from the Sun. That's not true, obviously, that's just a bit of fun. The actual reasons we're fucked are a lot more real and bleak and terrifying, but I don't want to upset any one in the meantime so instead I've compiled a happy little list of the Top 10 reasons why maybe not having so many kids could be good as well, yeah?
Top 10 Reasons to Maybe Not Have Kids
What if it doesn’t like being alive? That’ll be your fault, wont it, and they’ll definitely tell you with all the indignant whining of a prick with a dropped popsicle. You’ll get “I wish I’d never been born!” screamed at you every time you pause their MegaKillerStabbyGun game for two minutes, or make them eat a fragment of vegetable with their oven-melted chicken glow-sticks. Once they’re born, they’ll have to deal with all the confusion involved in being alive, stuck on a track now that’s hard to get off, and heading always towards that sticky and uncertain end. Maybe that little life is happy wherever it is in yours or someone else’s bollocks, and it shouldn’t be yanked into an increasingly busy and complicated world so you can have something to look at instead of your increasing dull life – maybe it’s swimming around somewhere, just fine, living a lovely little sperm life where you're not making choices for it at all.
What if you have a child and it just turns out to be rubbish? Imagine if you raised David Cameron, how absolutely fucking disappointed you’d be. You’re not allowed to put it in a big sock and hit it on the mantelpiece, of course, that’s illegal, so you’ll just have to keep cooking for it and buying it trousers as it gets taller and taller and louder and louder, until it’s just spitting, boozing and lolloping around your neighbourhood looking enough like you that it might as well be a big neon sign on your house that says, ‘WE'RE SHIT.’
You haven’t always got to do what your naturally-selected instincts tell you to. You already have to pander to your biology every time you’re hungry or thirsty or tired or threatened or horny, all of which are hormone-induced feelings evolved to keep you alive and fucking. From an evolutionary perspective, it is hard-wired into us to fancy each other’s firm or curvy bodies, and then to try and plug our genitals into each others -- an impulse Nature uses to convert those hormones into more humans. None of us know why we do these things because there is no reason. No reason at all outside the unexplained-but-desired perpetual survival of our species. We already have to die as a necessary sacrifice to our collective gene pool, so why not keep screwing Mother Nature with a condom until she's quite ready to explain why exactly you shouldn't.
And what about that Global Warming thing that everybody and their squirrel is radically altering their lives for? If you’re somewhat environmentally-conscious, or a hippy-ish kind of person who loves a bit of tree, or even one of these annoying new breed of people who masturbate over the idea that the human race should, for some clumsy reason, survive, survive more, and continue surviving, then you’re the last person that should be having a load of kids, unless your plan is to literally bundle them all into the walls like a horrific meaty insulation paste. You can cycle all you want to the airport, and compost your toenails, and wash an oil-covered crab, and put your 6 Blu-Ray players on standby while you separate your thick paper from your thin card, but if you choose to have a child your carbon footprint is still going to be the size of an Electric Elephant's. Our own methane emissions, our ridiculously lavish food demands, our burn-all-the-things energy and transport systems, and our childish desires to have every brand-new shiny iPhone 76 and the latest strip-screen, 4D nuclear-satellite television, means the act of having a child now is basically the same as popping out a smelly, smiley pollution factory. If you’re gonna do that, you might as well drive to Australia in an asbestos tank towing a caravan of large rare mammals and set fire to all your batteries in an igloo.
If you do get old (and there are at least 23 reasons why that might be OK too), and you do suddenly find yourself looking in every direction at an orchestra of happy parents around you while you’re lying swastika-shaped in a hot tub eating cheesecake from a cup and decadently farting, you might well be pray to a nagging, silly thought that somewhere in your Free and Farty little life you made the wrong decision, and now you’re missing out on something. By this point, you’re very likely to be staring at your misshapen and useless genitals, haggard and lonely, and weeping a single tear into your bath or mug of cake. But then, hopefully just before you reach for the toaster, you’ll remember... ADOPTION! That’s right, other people’s kids! While almost every other sheep-like, caring cretin in the world is holding hands and crossing roads with their accidental DNA-smashed-in-a bag offspring, you’ll be able to choose yours! What do you want? A fat one, a thin one, black, white, too many legs, not enough arms? They’re all there! Or you could just do what celebrities do now, and fly out to some entirely devastated African country-or-other with your publicist and a photographer, and bring back a few handfuls of your favourites in a sack.