previous  |  main  |  index  |  next
May 22, 2001


When I got home from work yesterday, I could not help but notice that my 16 year old, Mary Catherine, was walking around the kitchen with a negro infant in her arms.   I know I have been a bit "out to lunch" lately, what with my angst acting up and all, but have I been "out to breakfast" as well?   Did I fail to notice my daughter was pregnant?   Were any of her pathetic gentleman-callers African-American?   I broached the subject gently. 

"How was school today?"   I asked.   "Been knocked up by a black man recently?"

She explained that the infant was a doll and, upon giving it a complete physical, I saw that she was right.   (Although, here, I must mention that the inanimate infant was wildly more intelligent than any of M.C.'s friends, including her pal, Mandy, who was lurking nearby and who informed me that the "baby's" name was Tyrone Orangejello Johnson).   It seems baby Tyrone is some kind of sophisticated dummy designed to teach children how stupid it is to have children.   By programming the doll to "cry", the instructors of the high school parenting course  believe the students assigned to these baby-replicas will cease with their sex-romps or, at least, they will engage in protected romps only.

 I have doubts on the strategy's effectiveness.   If the teachers and parents (the real ones) wish to discourage baby-making, they need to program these robots to do more than cry.   First, the dolls must make the teenage students love them unconditionally and beyond all reason.   Then the dolls must grow up to be teased, contract diseases, have their hearts broken, and stay out past their little dolly curfews.   Tyrone and his fellow droids must hang out with rotten friends, take drugs, and flaunt their misunderstood and fragile sexualities.   They have to get real-er.

This parenting course reminds me of that absurd anti-drug campaign, Dare.   The Dare program is one of the great money suck-holes of modern social-engineering.   Nothing has been more ineffective per unit of expenditure.   Why, it is such a colossal failure, I'm frankly surprised I haven't found a way to invest in it.

Still, I have to admit that Tyrone is growing on me. Tomorrow, we're going for a stroll in the park. 

©  2001 by the beastmaster