While many sons and daughters will be spending May 11th showering their maternal figures with flowers, cards, handmade macaroni pictures and the like as thanks for being torn asunder from quivering loins (more commonly known as "the miracle of birth", we are inching ever so closer to Armageddon, and we have no one but the Duggar family to thank.

That's right, a new chapter is being added to the continuing adventures of Jim Bob Duggar and his semen trough cracker factory, uh, wife.

Yes, you read that correctly. Eighteenth child.

For those of you playing at home, Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar are conservative Baptists from Arkansas. He's a real estate agent and a wannabe Republican senator (he ran in 2002 and 2006, losing both times). She's a walking fetus rotisserie. They have 17 children, who range in age from 20 (Joshua) to 9 months (Jennifer). The rest are as follows:

$20 in the SG Pool says Jedidiah is the first to go gay Democrat pothead atheist. How else do you get through life with a name like "Jedidiah?"

135 months to be exact. That's over 4,000 days (I am not figuring out Leap Years) of little Jesus spawn Children of the Corn, uh, healthy, happy, children, always happy, always smiling, Come and play with us. Come and play with us, Danny...*shudder* Alright, dammit. Enough is enough, I say!

When a stiff wind can blow past your va-jay-jay and make a sound resembling thunderous applause, you have a problem.

When your doctor walks out with your new baby, you have a problem.

When an Internet meme mocking the sorry state of your genitals comes into existence to the laughter of millions, you have a problem.

And yes, they have a TV show. The TV gods could've freed up some airtime for marathons of Manimal or Circus of the Stars, but oh no...

"Jurisdictions?" Good gravy. What's wrong with a chore wheel?

Reversal of outdated, stereotypical gender roles? Oh, those wacky Duggars! What crazy scheme will they think up next? Anal, perhaps?

The Duggers claim they'll keep riding bareback "as long as God wills it."

If those two close in on Daad Mohammed Murad Abdul Rahman's mark in my lifetime, so help me, I'm sharpening my zombie machete.

thefreak, in all seriousness, wishes all you moms out there in SG Land a Happy Mother's Day. And he's shopping for cheap vasectomies in Mexico.

Over at my other blog, where I reposted Sunday's adoption post, a commenter asked,

Excellent question. What *should* society do, if we wanted (crazy feminist pipe dream, but bear with me) to live in a world where pregnancy and motherhood were recognized as simple facts of life, rather than as abnormal? In other words, where we granted women full humanity?

Lots of things. But since I'm not writing an encyclopedia here, let's focus specifically on some of the things that directly affect pregnancy, childbirth, and mothering young children.

First, let's decide that birth control is absolutely the responsibility of *all* heterosexually active people of whatever age. If you do not want children, and you are a man, you are responsible for using birth control. If we, as a society, *really* believed that, you damn well know we'd have a lot more birth control options for men than we do now. Shit, people, the only reason anyone talks about condoms is because of AIDS. Condoms sure as hell weren't on the radar before then. And if we really believed that sexually active people should be responsible for birth control, then we wouldn't even have these fucking arguments about whether or not we should tell young people about it or make it available to them.

Second, let's also recognize the corrolary: that if sexually active people are responsible for birth control, then they are *also* responsible for deciding if and when they don't want to use it. And that this, along with the fact that no birth control is 100% effective, means that women will get pregnant if they are sexually active--not all women, but some women, of all ages, and from all walks of life. And that since this is the case, scolding women for being pregnant "too young," or "too poor," or "when they're not ready" according to us, or because they're addicts or alcoholics or crazy or "unfit," in our minds, will simply not happen--because if sexually active people are responsible for using, or not using, birth control, then it is NONE OF OUR FUCKING BUSINESS if they don't.

Third, we would recognize that human beings (1) *will* be sexually active, and (2) *will*, therefore, get pregnant. Because human beings are living creatures, and one of the essential qualities of being "alive" is being able to reproduce. So reproduce we will. Reproducing is not a moral issue, or an occasion for passing judgment; it is a simple fact of life.

Fourth, because of this, we would structure our world around this basic fact and the things it involves: pregnancy, childbirth, and the demands of caring for young children. We wouldn't expect young women to quit school if they got pregnant; we would acknowledge that sometimes young women *will* get pregnant before they are finished with their formal educations, and we would accommodate this: schools would have nursing rooms and changing tables, we would provide daycare and allow young women and men with children to bring them to class (if they weren't disruptive), to step out (when and if they became disruptive), and to schedule their classes around elementary school hours--which would themselves be based on research in child psychology and development, rather than on agricultural seasons or the "9 to 5 workday." If this meant that young parents took a little longer to finish high school, college, or graduate school, that would be just fine, and there would be no sanctions for not finishing in the "average" amount of time (which would probably be higher than it currently is, since young parents would be better able to stay in school).

Fifth, the 9 to 5 workday wouldn't exist. Work would be reconfigured, since we'd recognize that "the worker" wasn't a 19th-century factory worker who needed to be physically present in the factory in order to take his place on the assembly line; instead, we'd define work in terms of projects, tasks, processes, and results. Where work required one to be in the same physical place as other people at the same time, we would of course provide workplaces for that to happen, and when it was better to have the material aspects of work (paperwork, hardware, merchandise, etc.) in one place, employers would build those things or rent space. But when a job didn't require that, we'd let people do the work when and where they were able--at home, in the workplace, wherever. Perhaps employers would subsidize employees renting private or shared office space under some conditions, in order to shorten their commutes, make their work time more efficient, and save money on infrastructure. Employers would certainly provide changing tables and nursing rooms in official workplaces, and taking children to work would be just fine--again, as long as doing so was safe and not disruptive. Where it wasn't, we'd set up formal and informal daycare arrangements of all types: private centers in high-density work areas; employer-provided daycare for very large employers who required many or most of their employees to be in the workplace much of the time; public daycare and preschools; round-the-clock availability when this was cost effective, some kind of economic support (like medicare will pay for hiring a private nurse) when it wasn't.

Sixth, we'd recognize that some people, because of physical or mental disabilities, personal preference, dangerous or neglectful behavior, and even death, would not be able to be their children's primary care providers. Where they were willing and able to provide *some* of their children's care, we'd prioritize their doing so, but we'd accept, encourage, and where necessary provide supplementary care, preferring (in order): extended family members, friends and acquaintances, and--where absolutely necessary--strangers. When these accommodations needed to be made, we'd provide supplemental caregivers with training, material support, and social services if those things were needed.

Seventh, we'd recognize that even primary care providers cannot--and should not--be solely responsible for their children's welfare, because children, too, are human beings, social animals, and by definition members of society. So parents, too, would receive supplemental services when they needed them. Also, children would be accepted in all public and private venues, and we'd accommodate their needs and limitations just as we do those of people with disabilities. Recognizing that they need adult supervision, that childhood is (in part) a process of socialization, and that the developmental, psychological, and physical needs of children are different than those of adults, we would of course provide alternate forms of entertainment for them where appropriate, sympathetically excuse them (and their parents or supervising adults) from situations where they became disruptive, and be patient with their social lapses. Being supportive of primary caregivers would be a basic social expectation, like holding the door open for someone carrying a heavy package; this would mean that all sorts of rare politenesses would become matters of course: correcting misbehaving children ("young man, you should listen to your mother"), lending a quick hand ("let me help you get that stroller down the stairs"), and providing public amenities that recognized that children are members of the public (low toilets and sinks, family restrooms, barriers between walkways and streets). Breastfeeding, it should go without saying, would be a perfectly acceptable and unremarkable public activity.

If we did these things, then it would be a lot easier to raise children, and most of the "special" burdens of motherhood would be ameliorated or erased--and where it wasn't possible to do this, we'd consider them human burdens, and take them into account, rather than scolding, judging, or punishing women for having to bear them.

A Bitch_PhD can dream.

If you thought the story of Jim Bob Dugger, his semen trough, uh, wife and their 17 Jesus spawn was extreme, this will blow your fucking mind.

Now, in order to help you put this into perspective, I did the calculations and came up with some interesting statistics for when this sexual Tyrannosaurus reaches the century mark:

• Assuming the children are spread out evenly over a total of 18 wives, each wife will have given birth to 5-6 children over a period of 44 years, with a total average of 2-3 children over the same period.


• The total time of pregnancy, using the average time frame of 9 months, will be 900 months, or 75 years.


• Your everyday ejaculation can be anywhere from 1.5 to 5 milliliters (for you non-math conversion types, 1 milliliter = about 1 teaspoon), and a "normal" sperm count is around 70-80 million sperm per milliliter. Assuming each pregnancy takes on the first try, Daab Mohammed will have spilled anywhere from 10.5-40 trillion of his potential children into waiting wombs.

Daab Mohammed, who lost his leg in a road accident, receives a monthly military pension of 24,000 dirham (around $6,500 American). But not even being an amputee can slow this testicular Hercules down.

The Emirates Today article gives more insight into the life of the man who puts Mr. Dugger and his cracker factory, uh, wife to shame.

Godspeed, Daad Mohammed Murad Abdul Rahman, you poster child for superhuman virility, you. And be sure to take plenty of Vitamin E.

thefreak took an online quiz today that said he will die while having sex. If it's from having that much sex, he will die a happy man.

I recently celebrated my fourth wedding anniversary, and my wife and I have spent those four years actively avoiding having a kid. I could pretend that our non-breeding is a political or environmental statement. Actually it’s because taking care of a child is an enormous amount of work, and I’m cartoonishly immature and irresponsible. My reaction to the idea of having a child is about the same as my reaction to someone asking me to huff some airplane glue and then perform experimental brain surgery.

“Wow, I can’t even begin to comprehend how badly I’d fuck that up.”

My reptilian lower brain still tries to sneak the “Hey, have a kid! Pass on your DNA!” message into my conscious mind from time to time, but one simple thought sends it scurrying back from whence it came:

I’d be a crappy dad.

Of course, that depends on what standard of fatherly conduct one uses as a goal. Compared to responsible, mature dads, the fact that the best-case baby-making scenario would involve my slack-ass parenting and sub-standard genetic material creating some bloated, semi-literate cretin who spends it’s unemployed days and nights huddled in my basement playing videogames, eating junk food and masturbating with a frequency and ferocity normally associated with caged lab monkeys would hopefully classify me as a crappy dad.

However, if my kid or the cops compared me to some really, really, really terrible fathers, I might actually earn a Father’s Day gift that didn’t involve paying bail.

My gold standard for “Wow, you suck at being a dad” had been a guy named Byron Keith Perkins. Byron had spent seven years in jail for armed robbery, and then later was arrested and convicted for drug and gun possession, which on it’s own would maybe merit a bronze medal in the Shitty Dad Olympics.

However, when Byron’s son Destin became ill in 2005 and required a kidney transplant, Byron saw an opportunity to go for the gold. In January of 2006, while awaiting sentencing, Byron told prison officials that he was willing to donate one of his kidneys to save his son’s life. He was then temporarily released from jail so that he could be tested at a nearby children’s hospital to see if his kidney was compatible.

Which sounds like a selfless gesture of paternal responsibility, except that rather than actually showing up at the hospital, Byron took a life lesson from Homer Simpson and fled to Mexico with both of his kidneys and his new girlfriend (who was on the run from a murder-for-hire conviction), leaving his ailing son behind.

Luckily, being a spectacularly bad father doesn’t make one immune to karma, and in April, Byron and his girlfriend were arrested in Puerto Vallarta and extradited back to the United States. While Byron was on the lam, a suitable, non-fugitive kidney donor was found for Destin.

The reason I said Byron Keith Perkins used to be my go-to example of A Shitty Dad is because recently I had the misfortune to read about William Gerald Collins. While my reaction to Byron’s asshole antics was “Maybe I wouldn’t suck that badly as a father”, William Gerald Collins is a terrible father on such an epic scale that my only response is, “Let’s vaporize all of humanity and let the chimpanzees and feral cats take over.”

William had been living with both his wife and her son from a previous relationship, but in 1995 his wife divorced him and kicked him out of her house.

William decided that he would use his stepson to get back at his ex-wife, but not in that “I’ll be the best dad ever and buy him lots of toys and let him do what he wants so he’ll love his awesome cool stepdad more than his nasty mom” way.

When his ex-wife allowed William to move back in, he decided to repay her hospitality by repeatedly raping her son over the next two years in an effort to “force him into becoming gay” and prevent his ex-wife from ever having any grandchildren.

While the abuse ended when Williams moved away, he wasn’t arrested until 2006, when he wrote a letter to a recent ex-girlfriend. In this letter, he both threatened to rape his ex-girlfriend’s 14-year-old daughter and confessed to raping his ex-wife’s son. After Williams pled guilty, a judge handed down the maximum sentence of 25 years in prison.

Yeah, can’t really follow that up with anything funny, can I? I’m normally not a proponent of capital punishment, but there are times where public executions really do seem like a great fucking idea.