Imagine I was to describe a creature to you. Something truly terrifying. Something out of a nightmare that no amount of drunken elves could wash away.
It’s small enough to hide almost anywhere in your house but big enough to crawl up onto your bed at night. It drools, shits and pisses everywhere it goes. It bites (hard), kicks (less hard), and screams (really hard).
They are destructive on local and global level. The longer they live, the more destructive they become. They tear down mountains, destroy the ozone layer, ruin oceans, and eradicate much of the life on Earth. Some of them have swords.
And their only goal in life is to drain you of all your life, your wealth, your very essence – and then replace you. And it might be in your home right now. Scary, right? Like something out of a horror flick. Not one of the good ones, one of those late-night-drunk-Netflix-guilt-clicks.
At the very least, it would be something to write your congressperson about, right? Well ladies and gentlemen, this is no horror flick, it’s real and it has a name.
Children.
Yes, that’s right, the sweet little creature living in a room in your house full of plastic crap you didn’t want to buy and plush toys that somehow all have the stare of the dead. It doesn’t love you. It’s just saying that so you will feed it long enough for it to destroy you.
There is literally an entire genre of horror film predicated on the fact that children and their toys want to kill us. By us, I mean adults. The people who run the world. Everyone you know who doesn’t watch Bob the Builder.
One film literally features a kind, loving couple ravaged by a child’s dreams. That’s a little on the nose but, man, talk about scary. My child’s dreams terrify me.
Now, it’s been suggested that watching Netflix at 3am doesn’t, strictly speaking, count as research for an evidence-based blog like this. Says who? In this post fact world, there is just as much truth in The Bye Bye Man or FeardotCom as in the latest issue of Nature. It’s all just different forms of truth.
And my research has shown me that children are genuinely scary. Further, I’m not sure we can fight back. There is a question as old hipster trivia nights and internet goat memes that goes, “How many children could you take in a fight?” It’s one of those questions that’s so profound, so deep, that you could spend the rest of your life contemplating it.
When I have posed this question to close friends they often say “20,” “50,” or “For the last time, I don’t want to talk to you, go back to your bar stool.” Well, I can tell you right now what that number is. It’s three. I’ve tested it multiple times, that is the absolute highest number of children you can take before going down.
“But Erik,” you say, “what if you were really fighting hard – like for your life?” I was. It doesn’t matter, they are too strong.
“But Erik, I’m in really good shape, I’m pretty sure I could fight off at least 10.” No! I am in way better shape than you are and three 5-year-olds wrecked me. My back hurt, my knees, Jesus, all of me hurt.
People, this is a serious threat that no one is talking about. Climate change (blah blah), extinction (snore), the end of democracy (you’ll never miss it) – none of it compares to the impending toddler invasion. It’s already here. It’s among us.
And soon they will be ready. As I have written here, we are approaching a global “youth bulge” in our population that will presage a slow decline in human fecundity. Not that it will matter, since today’s children will literally take over the world by then.
Now, you might logically say, “Erik, wouldn’t a decline in human reproduction mean fewer children, which is a good thing?” No, because you’ll be dead by then. You are playing into their hands, sheeple.
You might also say, “Erik, maybe you should stop drinking so much, get a little more sleep, and maybe not click the Netflix app after 11pm.” To that, I would respectfully suggest that you go straight to hell. Straight. To. Hell.
No, the problem isn’t Netflix, it’s these grimy little creatures infesting our homes, uprooting our dreams and destroying our lives. I once had hopes of playing first base for the Los Angeles Dodgers. That’s all gone now that I had a kid at 39. Forget it, they wouldn’t even take my call today.
My only choice now is to live vicariously through a slobbery creature that barely acknowledges my existence. To foist every single last failed aspiration I ever had on him. He will be a brilliant biologist, break the speed record on El Capitan, play for the Dodgers, win a MacArthur Genius Grant, and kiss Molly Loomis at the 7th grade Homecoming Dance even though she is totally out of his league.
While I just get more and more feeble. And when the time comes, and he has taken all he can from me, I will bow my head low and acknowledge my new overload. The fight was lost before it began. I was shot before I could even reach my holster.
Speaking of which, I hear there is a Deadwood movie out. I wonder if Netflix has it yet.
Can’t get enough Snark? Why not graze on the terrifying tales of Snark Weeks past:
Snark Week 2018, featuring the hidden burrowing owl mafia, fluffy cyptokitties, the entire insect class, putrid petrifying petrels, and worst of all, the American gray squirrel.
Snark Week 2017, featuring abusive blackbirds, an immense, near-spherical raccoon, and the vile creature that will gnaw on your soul – and then poop on it.
Snark Week 2016, featuring testicle-eating assassins, chihuahua terrorists, raptors who dole out violent haircuts, and the animals so vile they come out of the womb with horns.
Snark Week 2015, featuring flesh-ripping alien fleas, bovine murderers, and the unfairly beloved animal whose terrifying extra neck vertebrae allows them to turn their terrifying neckheads 270 degrees.
Snark Week 2014, featuring squirrels hell bent on world domination, more feral roosters, and a furry virus that has spread across the United States to total devastation.
Snark Week 2013 – the very first! – featuring the ant that kills cows, the bird responsible for five deaths and $425 million in damages, and an animal so vicious he is known only as Little Red Bastard.
“… new overload”? Yep. Your mind has been overloaded. As for children, it has always been thus.