Premeditated Misconduct

I went to a lovely lecture tonight on the meaning of food in a fast-food culture and on some ideas of healthier, more sustainable farming. The lecture was good.

HOWEVER:
I have a Public Service Announcement.

"When in a public place, PLEASE leash your children!
(Or I will kill them, and eat them.)"

Nothing is more distracting, more annoying, more ignorant, and more likely to put other people in a homicidal rage than YOUR inability to control the rambunctious, noisy fruit of your loins. If you want to go someplace where children might not be the best idea, get a baby-sitter. Or better yet, don't reproduce in the first place. God knows that the world won't mourn if your genes don't make it into the pool.

I hate children. I HAAAAAATTTE children. Yeah, that means your "widdle Pweshush, too." Hate 'em; hate 'em all.

And I hate most "adults'" complete incompetence and idiocy and ignorance in raising children. Look, I wouldn't trust most American adults with a goldfish, much less an advance mammalian pet such as a dog or a rat... and the idea of people breeding makes me run to pray to the porcelain god.

(Oh, and by the way, in case anyone's curious or doesn't already know, Ritalin, Adderal, and et cetera are NOT the answer.)

I understand you think your kids are cute and precocious and that everyone should love them, but you are wrong, and I don't want to be jailed on a murder charge just because you can't caretake properly.
Keep your offspring away from me, and I won't try to have my rats eat your face, 'kay?

___
Me, after stabbing my garlic toast with an over-grown toothpick and making it dance: "Everything is better on a stick!"
Angela: "Except sex."

"...sqoozened orange juice." --Dr. Judith Scoville, who has degrees in History, Political Science, Theology, and Ethics... but clearly not English. ^_^