Baby on Board
Everything these days is about size. Besides genitals, plenty of other things are judged good or bad according to their sizes: cell phones, TVs, computers and cars, just to name a few. Even the natural world is getting in on the size game with Hogzilla a few years ago and, more recently, a rash of seriously massive catfish being caught in Asia. But is there a point when this fascination with size intersects America's tendency to be total goddamned morons? Yes, yes there is, and I've found it.
I call them Baby Tanks, but most of you probably know them as strollers. They are wheeled vehicles used to transport children too young to walk. I'm sure you've seen them before, if not ridden in one yourself at some point. Of course, when I was in one the scene was a little different. I can't say I grew up roughing it, but the 80's were far less about the comfort of your child and more about the cost effectiveness of your child himself. That being said, my stroller wasn't so much an aid to my mobility as it was a rusty, tattered piece of shit that cut my meaty legs and occasionally helped my parents push my urine-soaked self around the grocery store. Those days, sadly, are gone.
Now, when I walk down the street I practically have to dive for cover to avoid being flattened by massive baby strollers. They have tires I repeat, tires instead of wheels just in case mommy wants to take her little precious on a three day trek through the Appalachians. They're made of materials I can't even pronounce, let alone describe. They have sun screens, heat shields, shocks, leg straps, mesh cushioning systems, rust-resistant braking, mirrors, horns and, obviously, reflectors. These machines and that's exactly what they are are far more advanced than any appliance or piece of technology I own and I have a foam bed developed by NASA, so that's saying something.
More than anything else, though, it's the sheer size of these obnoxious vehicles that angers me. Some I have seen are at least five feet wide, requiring everyone else on the sidewalk to move so Junior can pass safely in his temperature-controlled obnoxi-pod. I can't even count the number of times I've had to actually leave the safety of the sidewalk for the terrifying New York street just to let some goddamned new mom rush her dear little bastard by. What can I do? I can't yell at her, can I? "Hey lady, why don't you and your defenseless newborn baby stop being such assholes and get a smaller goddamned stroller?!" No, even in New York, that wouldn't work. I must suffer this injustice in silence.
It's so typical that these behemoth monstrosities would be invented in this era. We, simply put, live in an era of undying and total devotion to the selfish comfort of our offspring. I wasn't complaining about it when I was getting my ass cleaned with scented baby wipes, but I'm complaining about it now. It isn't even about the kids for these obnoxious, pretentious, bitchy urban moms, it's about their image. A massive, expensive stroller says to all the other moms, "Well, looks like MY husbands doing pretty well, wouldn't you say?" If any of these hyper-bitches would take a moment to think I know, it's difficult they would realize that kids really don't care what they're being wheeled around in. They also don't care about what they wear, what they play with or what they eat. So take that damn 'Baby on Board' sticker off the nine-foot-wide stroller because, honestly, nobody really cares.
I WILL take the sidewalk back from you and your spoiled, comfortable, bastard spawn. Why should they get to ride like a prince in India while I walk around sweating like a greasy pig? Bitchy moms with the big strollers, your time is coming to an end. You've been warned.
Baby on Board