Yelling at Strangers' Children

Everyone needs a pastime. My current favorite is verbally assaulting children. Not all children, just those unlucky enough to cross paths with me in the streets or in retail venues or just about anywhere public. Oh, and they have to be strangers. Making children you know cry has its own rewards, but they pale in gasp-factor comparison to attacking perceived "innocents."

This weekend saw two such incidents. Both in a single day, no less. And both - not coincidentally - were prompted by head-in-plane-exhaust-cloud parents who thought their resource consuming offspring should be allowed to roam freely. And by freely, I mean without a kid leash or a parent screaming step by step directives so the little beasts know where to go and where not to. Contrary to what appears to be popular belief, consideration of others is not overrated. Maybe Parenting Monthly should explore that fucking topic from time to time instead of wasting precious editorial space on tips for baby-proofing your home and nightmare articles titled "Kids Say the Cutest Things." Cute, shmute. These little monsters are nothing but earth-is-the-center-of-the-universe theories in human form. And to that, I say take your hypothetical and empirically defunct ideas elsewhere. Preferably to an abortion clinic. You might think it's too late, given that you've already done the whole vaginal canal passage thing, but you'll be surprised by what an extra twenty will get you. Slip the doc a fifty and he'll not only give you the best postpartum abortion of your life, but he'll he even send the subsequent mess to your mother as reminder that breeding is selfish and inconsiderate.

So this weekend, walking with art supplies loaded arms down an ice mountain sidewalk, a little child gets in my way and blocks any possibility of passage. The mother is distracted by ineptness. This leaves me no choice but to give a harsh "Ummmm? Excuse me!" The child responds with a scared yelp while the mother apologizes profusely. Incident A. Incident B involved me walking down a sidewalk later that evening, en route to see a new film by fabulous director Pedro Almodovar. In typical fashion, I was running a tad late and multi-tasking all the way there. And looking remarkably adorable whilst rocking the early '90s Brooklyn look. So hot. Anyway, as I'm walking and multi-tasking (i.e. telecommunicating and iPodding), a little loose child dares get in my way. After responding with a loud and shrill "Excuse me, child," I proceed to the theatre and walk in precisely as the screen fades from black . Perfect timing, no thanks to a libido-fueled bad decision.