What is this? A Center for Ants?!?!?

These days, man. I just don’t know. These days I feel like I bring nothing to the table. Except more chairs.

And maybe some ugly pea-green crocheted place mats I bought at a yard sale for $1.25 that smell just a little like moth balls and cat pee. Sigh. These days.

So you know when children reach that age when they want to know where babies come from? And their parents give them some bullshit answer that goes something like this: "Well, Jimmy, it takes a mommy and a daddy who love each other very much to make a baby." Most insipid parents stop there, knowing full well they didn’t answer JACK DIDDLY!! But others will elaborate by telling little Johnny that "the daddy gives the mommy a seed that she can grow into a baby."

Yeah. Okay. Now don’t be surprised when precious little Billy thinks that babies come from dirt and runs to his teacher with whimsical stories like: "My daddy is going to give me his seed so I can make a little brother!" Oh, Bobby – you adorable little mistake! I mean scamp! Adorable little SCAMP!

Yup. Poor Timmy. He fell victim to one hell of a communication cluster-fuck. Although, I have to admit, the seed explanation is a somewhat better game plan than blaming a large, clumsy, pointy white bird for the Curse That is Children. But it still isn’t a very good explanation. It’s also saccharine and coddling and it makes me want to puke.

I think it would be funnier (and indeed, far more helpful) if, when a kid asks where babies come from, you bust out the charts and the anatomy books. Oh, and don’t forget the laser pointer. The kid’s education isn’t complete until it can successfully locate the epididymis, the salpinges, and provide an acceptable definition of the word "ovulate."

I wondered about a lot of crap when I was a kid. But, oddly enough, never cared about babies or their origins. It didn’t really occur to me that anyone was born AFTER the year 1983 until about the year 2000.

I’m kidding, of course! It was actually more like 2002.

However, as a child, I didn’t quite understand why people closed their eyes when they kissed. When I closed my eyes, it was because I was tired or I was scared. So I therefore deduced that kissing must be incredibly boring, or incredibly scary. I decided I would try my best to avoid it in the future. I never claimed that I was a bright child.

But anyway, to get back to the dreaded Sex Talk and how parents seem to bungle the whole affair, what’s up with that "Birds and the Bees" speech? I never fully understood that one. I sort of get the Bee part – what with pollinating and all. But if you’re going to explain boinking (ahem, excuse me, Making Love) to your kids, at least pick animals that are constantly fucking (oh sorry, Bumping Uglies) and ALWAYS seem to get pregnant. Like the obvious example of rabbits. Or gerbils. Or white trash. KIDDING!

.....But not really.

Birds’ mating habits are pretty common and aren’t all that amazing. They have a mating season in which they do their best to look and sound good, they find a mate, they do it, and they poop out some eggs. Done deal. They’re not randy little fuckers. In fact, many species are monogamous, or at least seasonally monogamous.

When I think of animals that epitomize the word SEX, I think more along the lines of a female cat in heat getting gang-banged by 15 males rather than the frigging till-death-do-we-part, I’ll-never-let-go,-Jack, You-had-me-at-hello blue jays. Fucking blue jays are making us look bad, by the way. Damn them and their fidelity!

So yes! I think we should change the saying altogether. Screw that "Birds and the Bees" crap! It should be "Gerbils and the Bees" or "Female Cat in Heat and the Bees." So when little Tommy comes asking, tell him you’re going to have the "Female Cat in Heat and the Bees" talk with him, then bust out the creepy anatomy charts with the exposed muscles (you know the ones I mean) and have that laser pointer ready. Trust me, you won’t confuse the ever-loving fuck out of him. Nor will you traumatize him horribly in any way.....

And that’s all I have to say about that.




Your best good friend,
The Cage.