I'm crying for the planet. And it's my fucking fault.
Wandering the cracked and desolate boulevards of the internet recently, looking for yet more examples of human wickedness and folly, I came across something which seemed to be both, and I could not decide which was the stronger, the dominant element in the mix.
A woman had given birth to a baby. What times do we live in, when even such a simple and basic statement is a sign and a wonder? It wasn’t a modified man adding to the stock of human population, and the baby wasn’t born transgender, or already a crack addict, or crapped out onto cardboard at the back of a supermarket in the rain. No, it was simply a baby, born unto a mother and father, and white to boot. The mother had taken to social media. And why not?
If I had children – of which more later – I suspect I too would have posted the fact for all the world to see. The pride in creating a little ball of cells, a tiny anlage (that’s the clinical term for a ball of cells, know-nothings), a scrunched-face little poppet, slimy and full of potential, must be immense, and why shouldn’t you paste its little face across the wind-blown hoardings of Facebook or Twitter?
But it was what the mother wrote.
Along with a picture of her little sproglet, she announced that she was feeling guilty for ‘bringing another little carbon emitter into the world’.
Right. A couple of actions which should be taken immediately. Firstly, in a sane and responsible world, social services would take the child away and gift it to a mother who wasn’t fucking nuts. That child will turn out to be utterly useless, you can tell it from one sentence from her mother, who is already an excellent advertisement for forced sterilisation. When you look at what the new police state of Europe is doing to people who post harmless candyfloss online, this is genuinely a reason to take action.
Secondly, once the child is in a sane environment, the mother needs to be taken out onto a plot of waste land and slapped about a bit until she sees sense. There is no argument against this in an egalitarian age in which the genders are absolutely equal. Just bring the child up, you stupid bitch, don’t try to warp its mind while it is still hanging off your tit.
Bringing a child into the world and then stigmatising it with your secular, internet-constructed version of original sin proves you are not fit to be a parent. In the times when I mixed with people, I was occasionally asked why I never had children. There are two aspects to my answer.
One, I never needed them. The usual form is, I realise, that one never wanted children, but that is to miss the point. Children are a biological imperative, hard-wired into mammalian DNA over billions of years. Saying you never wanted children is like saying you never wanted gravity. Some of us are immune to the dictates of DNA, just as some of us are albinoes or have rare blood groups or, like some white Europeans, are naturally immune to infection by HIV.
Two, I would have made a lousy father. I’ve lost count of the number of party people – usually women – who have told me what a great dad I would make. Funny, witty, educated, tall, good-looking. They sounded like eugenicists. Whether or not you think eugenics is a good idea (I do), you have to factor in personality type, and mine rings every alarm bell going when it comes to fatherhood. Fickle, a sporadic heavy drinker, selfish, rootless, usually poor, self-absorbed and incapable of love, or at least uninterested in it. What kind of father material is that?
So, no carbon emitters for me. In fact, I would even have failed miserably in teaching my child how to emit carbon and kill whales and cause forest fires in the first place. I lived for 10 years on a canal boat in England. Once, in idle hour, I used an online government resource to work out my carbon footprint. Compared with the national average for one person living in a house or apartment, and taking that average to be 100%, mine worked out at 7%. And I lived that way for a decade. I wrote about it here for Standpoint magazine. No matter what you might say about me, I’m greener than you. I have never driven a car. I was a vegetarian for 10 years. I deserve a fucking medal and, as it is, I’m wondering if the pigs will arrest me at the airport for hate speech next time I go back to the old country.
So, back to our little carbon-emitter. I have the solution. Drown it. Don’t burn it. Fossil fuels, see? No, drown it and let the body rot down. You can use it as compost for your home-grown, pesticide-free vegetables. Drown it, because, to go by its mother, it’s going to be no fucking use to the rest of us.