Childbirth is Not a Big Deal

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again because it was funny and completely true. Women having babies is like an octopus shooting ink at a shark come dinner time — except this octopus has six tentacles in the shark’s wallet and also a layer of whore paint all over its face.

And one of its other tentacles has a foot for sticking down it’s fucking throat in front of the shark’s boss and parents.

Please allow me to quote from 3 billion of the worst writers in the world today:

“You men think you’re so tough, you gay faggots? Try pushing something the size of a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon which is also called your vagina!”

-Every woman ever

That is an inaccurate depiction of childbirth.

First of all, childbirth, whether it’s completely disgusting or not, is a beautiful thing. In the case of baby boys being born, you could be witnessing the first breaths of the next Picasso or Pavarotti or the guy who played Herman Munster. In the case of baby women, you’re witnessing something special too probably. The point is, as a man I would never sink so low as to equate the act of childbirth to some perverse squishing of fruits and vegetables through other fruits and vegetables. Is this human life we’re talking about or a fruit salad Physical Challenge? What the fuck? Unlike women, men float effortlessly on the sea of indiscretion by inflatable rafts called our class — Man Class.

Secondly, a baby is not the size of a watermelon. It’s more like like size of a grapefruit or maybe a slightly larger than average lemon. Have I ever squeezed something the size of a slightly larger than average lemon through something the size of a regular sized lemon? Believe me I have. But go bigger you say? You must be a man then! And I say why the fuck not!

It’s called putting on my undershirt, which women don’t know about because they’re whores and wear things like spaghetti strap tank tops and bras and other silly things designed to maximize their flesh showcase. I don’t hear my undershirt complaining about my head being the size of a fucking watermelon, which it isn’t, but it is bigger than my shirt’s neck hole.

The fact of the matter is today’s modern mother is so doped up on morphine and chocolate that she doesn’t even know who the father is when it comes time to popping the poor bastard out. Men in the Napoleonic Age got their legs and shit cut off with no antestetic and gangrenous saws. Now that’s some pain! Where’s your fucking cute, stupid fruit analogy now? Have you ever had a zucchini the size of your leg cut in half by a carrot which was a rusty saw? Fuck off.

My last piece of evidence is what I call The Clencher.

The only women who use this argument are teenage women or childless, unmarried harpies. The world has truly known no more useless swine. They’ve never done anything for anyone ever. Congratulate your nearest mother. She won the race by pulling her head out of the sand.

It’s a good thing all babies have a 50/50 shot of being men — or else we’d all be fucked.

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