I’m generally not a fan of children, strollers and the parents who feel entitled to abuse my peace and personal space with them. That’s not to say I dislike all children and parents; some are nice and whatnot, but I usually prefer to appreciate them from a distance. I don’t want any kiddie cooties.

Recently, I was posed with a dare. Was I a man of conviction, strong and brave enough to leisurely wander about Park Slope—breeder and baby stroller central, while wearing this shirt? Fearless barbarian that I am, I have accepted this challenge.

In professing my fearlessness towards babies and their parents, I was also challenged as to what I would do if faced with the scenario of having insulted enough parents as to incite a mob of angry procreators, attacking me and threatening to break my kneecaps with their strollers.

The answer is simple. I would grab one of their children by the feet and swing them like a club, bludgeoning parents left and right, hewing a path to freedom and earning myself a proper dosage of fearful respect. Duh…

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