Sunday, 18 December 2011 19:30 GFP Columnist - Trevor Hill
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It’s as simple as that. Too many people, not enough stuff. You can replace the word “stuff” with any of the following… food, water, housing, work, medical care, living supplies, happiness, security, or brains.

Definitely not enough condoms.

The reason many people can’t get ahead is that there are too many of us on the planet and there’s not enough to go around. Mon Dieu, that sounds so simple an equation, doesn’t it? Yet very few actually understand the real problem.

There are those who will say, and this includes scientists (and we know they’re never wrong); “We won’t run out food and water as our population increases.” This would be the same group who can’t see the one billion people already starving. These people we will fondly call “nuts”.


Most of the world works for the Americans because when it comes to “stuff”, my southern cousins consume thirty percent (30%) of all the “stuff” this planet creates. Essentially, one-third of everything. This is ridiculous to say the least. Even with the constant flow of goods into the US, they still don’t have enough "stuff" for all their people.

African countries have some of the highest populations next to China and India. We know that Africa is loaded with resources, unfortunately they have the kind of resources that people get shot for; “stuff” like diamonds, gold and oil. And yet most of Africa is starving. What’s wrong with this picture?

Speaking of China…these are the only people on the planet who have foreseen the problem of over-population. The one child per couple still goes on (you can have two children if you live in the country).

Here in the “modern” western world you can have your own television show if you have more than fourteen kids.

The overall problem, if you could or should call it that, is that for every person that kicks the old bucket, two more have just arrived.

It should be, at least for a while – ‘for every person that’s born, two people should croak’. Then we’d be getting somewhere. Even if it turned that way overnight, it would probably take hundreds of years to finally whittle our way down to a respectable amount of humans on the planet. On the other hand, this is where my previous set of articles makes sense, ‘the asteroid can’t come fast enough’.

People need to make better baby making decisions. How does one convince the current seven billion morons on the planet that we should try other things besides cranking out little “miracles” of “joy” and “wonderfulness”; (the “brackets” are in lieu of those who have a different definition of a “miracle”).

“I have a right to have a child!!” they will scream. A “right”? No. You don’t.

You... have an option. That’s the difference between us (humans) and the other mammals. They don’t. They just do what they think they’re supposed to do. You have brains. They have squat in comparison. The question is: who’s smarter?

At what point in time will the bulk of the human race wake up and realize they have to make a better choice for not only their proposed offspring they're pondering about, but for the rest of the human race. Or maybe you don’t mind if your kid starves later on when your country goes bankrupt?

Why is your local Food Bank now catering to twice as many people than it did a mere year ago? No, it’s not the quality of the food they’re handing out. Besides, do I really have to answer this?

Ask yourself this. Is your DNA that bloody special that you need to replicate it several times over? Isn’t one of you enough?

Or has “God” told you to “go forth and multiply” and you took it word for word?

The world has changed and the freedom of child creation needs to change as well. The days of following outdated cultural traditions such as the all time favourite - “I have to continue the family name” is gone with the proverbial wind.

Well here’s a thought, what happens when the little “miracle” embarrasses you front of the entire neighbourhood or turns into the next serial killer? Will continuing the family name be all that important? Trust me; there will be many times when the little darlings will make you wish they really did have a different last name.

In fifty years after you’re dead, your clan will talk about you off and on; and some won’t remember who the hell you were in the first place. In two hundred years, no one will care period and you’ll be long gone dust in the wind. It’s a meaningless reason, mumbled to sons by fathers on their death beds. Guilt and the male fondness for sex make it happen. Unless your last name is Rockefeller, give it up.

You can’t make a difference six feet under the ground but while you’re here, you can – and that’s the shit people will remember – while you stand in front of them – breathing.

There’s another group that have sex, find out they’re pregnant, and their number one response is, “Oh well, guess I’m havin’ a baby”. Period. There is no thought about the ensuing event and the ramifications. It’s all good!

Makes you wonder what wavelength they’re on. If you’re one of the “one percent” then who cares, but for the rest of the slugs, what do you mean - “Oh well, guess I’m havin’ a baby” - ?

And don’t forget this bunch. “I won’t feel like a woman until I have a baby”. This problem although mostly self-induced can be instigated by smug, know-it-all mommies with their rendition of - “You’re not a woman until you’ve had a baby”.

Anyway, the first statement above (the other one is just plain stupid), “I won’t feel like a women until I have a baby”, is quite likely the saddest of all the excuses for making a clone of oneself.

The pressure from other mommies is horrendous. Essentially, these mommies want every other childless and/or child-free female to be just as miserable as they are. So the heavy handed words, “You’re not a women until you have a baby” creates a guilt trip suitable for framing. These “gotta-have-a-baby” women hook up with the guys who have to continue the “family name”. And they usually don’t live happily ever after.

There is unfortunately another group of humans, usually of the female persuasion (who always have the final say), who despite serious DNA flaws, hereditary diseases or just plain contagious diseases will still have a baby. Just because.

They can be warned by doctors, family, friends, and counsellors, the neighbour’s cat, and the Ouija board but lo and behold the selfish-need to produce some sort of offspring outranks the basic IQ level of those who are willing to play Russian Roulette with another person's life.

These irresponsible humans think that sentencing their soon to be born child to a lifetime of pain, ridicule, bullying, and lord only knows what else, is not a problem and would consider their child with Harlequins disease for example, a “miracle”. The only “miracle” is that the child is still alive. On the other hand, I’m sure the child with Harlequins has something different to say – provided they live long enough to speak in the first place.

And this is just an example of one major DNA screw up. There are more of these kinds from people who value their own selfish happiness than the life of their kid. These are sad little humans.

“Abortions are bad”, some say. “Abortions are okay”, say others. Women can make up their own goddamn minds about what to do with their bodies. They’ve been doing it for eons and they don’t need help from a stupid male. Take it from there.

It doesn’t matter what part of this world you may live in, take off your blinders, look around and you’ll see that if we don’t stop reproducing at the rate we are, we will run out of food, water, shelter, and thanks to Climate Change, safe places to live. This will quite likely affect your great, great grand-kiddies.

Now that I’m at the end of my rant about irresponsible child producing, I have this say…

If you want to have children, fine, go nuts, but you’d better have your shit together. And that means you can cover the $200,000 it takes to raise one child to the age of eighteen with the hopes that they won’t screw up and cost you more. This doesn't include the lifetime membership to Apple products and the latest game console – every couple of years.

Love, yes that old standby, the key ingredient to dealing with your bundle of joy. Oh the baby stage makes it so easy to love the wee little beasties. But count on that “love” to be ripped apart when little Susie or Billy-Bob turns thirteen. As a parent, you have now reached the “you are completely useless and stupid” and the “just leave me alone and get the hell out of my room” stage.

In the end, if you’ve managed to get your kids all the way to the age of eighteen without anyone getting pregnant, turned into a drug addict, committed any serious heinous crimes against humanity, isn’t a complete asshole that no one likes, and has somewhat of clue on how to join the rest of the planet as a reasonable human being then you’ve done your job.

If that’s too much to handle – buy a gerbil.

Too many people…lots of garbage. That we got.



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