Friday, August 03, 2007

Um.

A woman in Arkansas just gave birth to her 17th child.
Read that sentence again.
And now go back and read it one more time.
I thought I would have 1,000 different things to say about this, but I guess I don't.




8 comments:

jules said...

jessica. just because you don't want to use your vagina for mass production... it's the american way!

Jess said...

whoa, that was a little weird.

your coney island pics are great. i think you should print up the skeeball ones into poster size and give them to me as a gift. that'd be really nice of you, thanks.

jules said...

sure, no problem. i'll just run over to my giant printer...

Jess said...

how much am i enjoying this new dot dot dot thing of yours? the answer is "very much."
"a lot" would have also been accepted.

kind of like that story game where the next person in the circle has to continue the story.
You: "I'll just run over to my giant printer...."
Me: "And eat that turkey sandwich I left over there. But then..."

I like that story game but I feel like I'm always ruining it.

Pamplemousse said...

but then... an overworked vagina dropped a baby on you and you were delayed.

whoa sorry, don't know where THAT came from.

where on earth did you find the "clown car" graphic?

Jess said...

ha! forget the mention of sandwich. i'm using your continuation from now on.

"Once upon a time..."
"an overworked vagina dropped a baby on you..."

and everybody will be like, um...the end?

I'm pretty sure that's how Rocky was oringinally scripted to end.

i think the clown car poster was hanging at some lesbian recruiting seminar, i forget.

Anonymous said...

Clown car? More like one of those slides at a wet n’ wild fun park – with kids just shooting out of the end, screaming.

The question is what the hell has inspired this couple to keep on making children? Surely the thrill of unprotected sex eased off after the first ten babies? Or maybe news that infant mortality rates are no longer at 1462 levels has yet to reach this family’s part of the world. I don’t know where it is, but I suspect that their town has some sort of horse-share agreement with the one down the dirt track aways.

The family photograph is a bit disturbing, but I guess you run out of ideas really quickly when it comes to posing a group like that. The photograph I saw in the UK was of the kids arranged in order of height and you just KNOW that that was a source of family rancour for ages afterwards, with the short kid insisting he was stood out of order of birth. And what do you do when the kids in that family start fighting anyway? That’s not a spat, that’s a riot! You’d have to import some especially sadistic and brutal Italian cops, the kind they keep chained in a cellar until footie season kicks off.

What I worry about is this: the mother and father are obviously lacking in imagination (‘hey hon, scrabble or sex tonight?’), so what are they doing for names for the kids? Normally, names for your children are a careful balancing act between naming your child for a favoured relative in the hope they will leave your kid their house and wondering who you can afford to piss off by NOT naming your kid after. This isn’t a criticism…but…I suspect this couple come from the South of the US? So you just know that they were profligate with the names of the first kids – for instance, the first born is probably called something like Billy Bob Jimmie Lee Frank – see, that’s five uncles used up right there. Sure, you can juggle names about, but when you keep producing kids like a Chinese toy factory produces dangerous toys in the run up to Christmas, you’re going to run out of relatives at some point. Or rather, you run out of respectable relatives.

The alternatives, when you’re down to the black sheep, are these: you run the risk of your kid researching a bit of family history and then kicking open your door one day, probably armed with a shotgun, and screaming ‘I’m named after a convicted duck-fucker?’. Or, you resort to letters. Child A, child B and so on. The downside is that this makes your kids sound like witnesses in a child abuse case, the upside is that, if they are the 22nd kid born in your family, then waiting so long for hand-me-downs that they are wearing Star wars panamas from the FIRST time the films were released is probably abuse anyway.

Jess said...

let's be best friends.

"That's not a spat, that's a riot"
gold. pure metallic gold.

I didn't even stop to think about the names. The names! Maybe the parents took that baby name book too literally and thought they should have one of each. No, that's not it. But I bet for the last 12 they've just had one of the other kids name the baby. like when a whole bunch of kittens are born.
-Yea fine, you can name it.
-oh boy, thanks! I want to call him marshmallow!

Ironically, I think I read that this latest child was named Mr. Whiskerface McGee so that could along with my cat theory, or with your relative name theory.

Also, I'm inclined to believe that the question of Scrabble or sex is a nightly one for the couple. I just don't think they ever read the rules to Scrabble.
Imagine that awkward game night at a friend's place.
-Scrabble, anyone?
-Well I don't think that's appropriate.