The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, (2006 to 2010).

Current posts can be found here.

Friday, May 30, 2014

It’s Fetus Adoption Day!

You may recall last week when we were talking about the latest fad that’s sweeping our nation’s Flaming Youth: “spiritually adopting” a third party embryo, and giving it a name and a personality:
the eighth graders jumped up, eager to compare notes.
“I named my baby Kyle Patrick,” one shouted.
“Mine is Antonio!”
A few Wo’C commenters, including Thursday, were caught up in the excitement:
“Mine is a ninth level Paladin!”
“Oh, yeah? Mine can fly!”
“Mine had the batteries run out and he died.”
“HA HA! Jimmy killed his baaa-by! Jimmy killed his baaa-by!”
“Mine is hydrocephalic, and she’s gonna make my living conditions so desperate that my wife’s gonna leave and I’ll kill my kid in a drunken fit of resentment and bitter rage before she’s five!”
“Mine’s named Suzie, but I don’t wanna get married, so I’m gonna kill her mom before Suzie’s born.”
“Mine’s President!”
But despite the best efforts of America’s Uncoolest Teens, there are hundreds of thousands of fetuses forced to gestate every day without benefit of spiritual parentage. Perhaps it’s no surprise; after all, secretly taking remote control of a zygote using nothing but Jedi mind tricks and the power of National Right to Life Committee talking points is a major obligation. Think about it — you would be spiritually responsible for your adopted child from the moment it’s conceived until just before the moment it’s born, at which point you really need to get onto the next blastocyst, because those cells aren’t going to divide themselves, you know. But it’s not merely the burdensome womb-watching that can discourage potential phantom foster parents, it’s the difficulty of bonding with a child who’s so small that if you played catch with him he wouldn’t even leave a visible stain on the horsehide. Why, in this great country of ours with its wealth of consumer choices, can we not pick our little Antonios and microscopic Kyle Patricks the way we select lobsters from the tank at an upscale seafood restaurant?
Well, now we can. Introducing, FetusMart™
Go, browse, make your selection from their many types and flavors of fetuses, and start your hostile takeover of a stranger’s uterus today!
Posted by scott on February 3rd, 2008

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