Baby’s are ugly.  Take the time to really scrutinize a baby.  It’s ugly.  Babies are wrinkled
and red and puke a lot and smell and have mooshed up faces.  That’s ugly.
 And newborns are the worst.  Slimy and wet and homely, gray with red spots and
a slimy stalk coming out of their stomachs.  Disgusting.
 “But my baby’s different.  My baby’s adorable.”  Nope.  Sorry, it’s not.  Babies are
inherently ugly.  Yours is no exception.  And mine won’t be either.  Sorry, Honey, but any
animal that spends nine months curled up suspended in warm body fluids will be ugly.
 Many people think that babies are beautiful just because they are little people or
something.  Well then, why aren’t adult people beautiful?  That jerkoff who cut you off in
traffic the other day wasn’t very beautiful, was he?  How ‘bout that Hitler guy?  Nope?
Well, they were all beautiful one day.  When they were the size of a watermelon and
forced down a canal the diameter of a lemon.
 Little kids aren’t much better.  They have messed up hair and missing teeth and
they’re always dirty and sticky.  If you saw an adult like that, you would have to admit
that he or she was ugly.  But, oh, no, your kindergartner is cute.  Get over your ego.
Babies and little kids are ugly.  Adults are ugly.
 People are ugly.

PITY MY SPOUSE

 As anyone who knows me will tell you. my girlfriend is about the most patient
person in the world.  She has to be.  As I warned her before we even began seeing each
other, life with me is basically a never-ending practical joke wrapped in a political
statement wrapped in a surrealist painting.
 Maybe that’s even part of what she likes about me.  But for whatever reason, she
does seem to like me, and God knows, I’m crazy about her.  I never believed in love as
far as relationships go.  There were just chicks to bone.  That’s it.  But Katherine proved
me wrong, which doesn’t happen very often.  We became pretty serious, and have
talked often about spending our lives together.  As much as I want that, I worry about
her.  I don’t think anyone deserves me, anymore than the Jews deserved Hitler.
 In order to stay with me for a long period of time, she will have to be ten times as
tolerant as she is now.  Just from the stuff I joke about now, I’m surprised she hasn’t run
away screaming.
 Like for example, if I’d been married in W.W.II and been sent overseas, I would
have sent home a Western Union telegram every day to say that I was fine.  When I
have kids, I want to sing them to sleep with “Enter Sandman” by Metallica.  And to avoid
having to tell them that there’s no Easter bunny, I plan to leave the bloody carcass of a
rabbit on the porch one Easter so I can just say the dog killed him or something.  I can
be an A-1 prick when I want to be.
 So please, send your prayers and sympathies to the woman of my dreams - she’ll
need them.