They're slobbery and they're whiney and they look at you just like they could see right into your soul and they're unpredictable and the smell and they're noisy and the world revolves around them and why I don't get it. They're not interesting. They can't tell jokes, they don't have opinions, and they're boring, you know They're just boring and annoying and I don't want to have one.
It's funny, to me, the way people refer to childbirth as a miraculous event. A miracle is something that defies nature. Only, childbirth has got to be the most natural thing in the world. Top three anyway. But, on the other hand, when you think about it, there's really no other word that fits. Sperm. Egg. A coincidental meshing of genetic information that will grow something that could write an opera or cook up some Napalm. It blows my mind.
Being plied with fine food always puts me in mind of the slammer, cause the food was jumpin' in there too high in fat but nice and salty. You know what the worst deprivation in there was My music. Radio belonged to my cell mate, the Blonde Hammer. He was into that jazz fusion thing at the time. I tell you what, enough Spyro Gyra and you're hoping you'll get killed in a knife fight.
One of the things that keeps you from dropping them in the nearest volcano is that you had to work too hard to get them. You had to cry, you had to scream, you had to sweat, you had to cuss out health care officials, and when that's all over with, you'll be willing to put up with a lot more from your kids.
LEONARD I've failed, Chris. I can't locate the white collective unconscious. CHRIS I wouldn't feel too bad about that. You know, western culture hasn't really carried the baton on folklore and mythology. The rise of Christianity put the kibosh on itthe gospel hits the number one best-seller list and everything else gets remaindered.