Of Paternity Tests, Self Humiliation, and Low Moral Values

If you’re like me, you’ve seen The Maury Show on mid-day TV and are quite familiar with what seems to have become the main staple of the show – paternity tests. And, if you’re like me, you’ve become so tired of these shows that you’re ready to gouge your eyeballs out whenever you see it on the screen.

The logic of what motivates these young women mystifies me at times. I mean, it’s one thing if you’ve been in a relationship with a man who fathered your child, then the lowlife scumbag dumps you and claims the kid isn’t his. I’m ok with that, sure. But what mystifies me is the FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL who is coming on the show FOR THE EIGHTH TIME to see if she can find out who the daddy of her baby is, and she’s now testing THE TWELFTH MAN to see if he’s the daddy.

Are you kiddin’ me? Am I the only one who has sat back and said, “Well, let’s see, if she’s testing the twelfth man for paternity, that means that she had sex with AT LEAST twelve men IN A THIRTY DAY PERIOD, because that’s the normal human female menstrual cycle, right? That would equate out to the young “lady” being with a different man about every two and a half days! And did you forget that she’s FIFTEEN?

Can you say, “SLUT?” I’m not so sure I’d be that quick to parade my sorry ass on TV to find out who the daddy of my illegitimate baby is, especially if I was that young. And you just gotta ask yourself, where the hell were the parents? Is this what our youth are being taught? That it’s OK to be promiscuous – oh, let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? It’s okay to screw everything in the neighborhood with a dick – because when you get knocked up and have no idea who pappy is, all you have to do is contact good ol’ Maury and he’ll help you figure out which welfare daddy you get to sue for child support.

Here’s a quick, easy, and cost-free solution for you: KEEP YOUR FRIGGIN’ LEGS CLOSED, YA TRAMP!

And then, there’s the guys…you’ve seen ‘em, the self-styled “playahs” who take great pride in the fact that they’re screwing every “ho” in the neighborhood and who constantly deny the inevitable trail of babies they leave behind. They get on the show, show their faces as they stand there while the fifteen year old mother tells everyone what a bad person they are, then they come out and deny everything. They lay the blame on the mother, claiming that she’s a slut – which she is – and a “ho” – which she is – and that there’s just no way that he’s the baby’s daddy. And why not? Well, take your pick – the reasons are many and varied. “The doctor told me I can’t have kids.” Yet the asshole is seventeen and never been sick or injured. “The doctor told me I can’t have girls, only boys.” How is that, genius? I know medical science has come a long way, but I don’t think it’s come so far that it can tell which chromosomes you may or may not have, thereby predicting what sex the child will be. “I just know that I ain’t that baby’s daddy!” So, what, in addition to being a “playah” you’re also clairvoyant?

And inevitably, when the test results come out, 9 times out of 10 it’s the same: “You ARE the father!”

Like there was going to be any other results.

I keep coming back to one thing: where in the hell are the parents while the girl is out banging everything in pants, and the “playah” is out there sowing his seeds and littering the town with his illegitimate kids which he has no way to support? But then again, no worries there – that’s what the welfare system is for, right?

If this is where today’s youth is headed – one segment of it, anyway – we should all be afraid. Very afraid.

As for me, right now I’m just disgusted, and I don’t know who disgusts me more – the girl for not learning the magic of keeping her legs closed, the guy for the irresponsible use of his dick all over town, the parents for not keeping either of them in check, or Maury for giving them a medium to exploit.

This is not exactly what I call, “entertainment.”

But then, that’s just me.

IHC

Christmastime and the traditional Holiday Beefstick

Oh, stop it...not talkin' about that kind of beefstick!

Anyway, most families that celebrate Christmas have a holiday tradition or two that they carry out every year during the holiday season. I have one, too, and it involves a Pepperidge Farms Beefstick. It goes like this.......

Waaaaay back in 1979 when I was naught but a 22 year old sergeant serving in the United States Air Force, Christmas of that year found me at Kunsan Air Base in the Republic of South Korea. I had been married about 18 months, just had a newborn son born to me the month previous, and had never been away on a remote tour before. (A remote tour, for those civilians among us, is when you go overseas for a year and can't take your family with you.) So needless to say, Christmas was going to be a challenge for me.

That's when my father and mother , bless their hearts, came up with a novel idea.

One of the things you missed the most in Korea at that time was good old American food. See, back then there were no McDonald's incountry or any other kind of American food place, and the only American food you could get was at the big commissary - in Osan, 200 miles north. At my base we were limited to what we could get at the Base Exchange, which wasn't much. And the mail service was slow at best, so any food you sent over to Korea had to be non-perishable.

So my parents came up with the idea of sending me a Pepperidge Farms Beefstick. All two feet of it! To say it was popular in the barracks would be a huge understatement! We had a hell of a party around just the beefstick! I loved it because I love beefsticks, and it was a taste of home in a land very far away. It also meant something to me because my parents had sent it to me. That alone made it special.

So the next Christmas when I was at home, they sent me and my family another one. And the tradition was born...every year since then, I've gotten a beefstick for Christmas from my parents. And that includes the Christmas I spent in Taegu Air Base, Korea in 1989 and the Christmas I spent in Saudi Arabia during Operation DESERT SHIELD. On both occasions - especially in Saudi Arabia - the beefstick was really popular with my coworkers, and I literally had to keep it under lock and key when I was in the Gulf!

My son joined the Air Force the same year I retired, and when he went away for his first holiday I fully intended on sending him a beefstick to keep the tradition alive...and then I thought, 'Nope, better let my parents do it.' After all, THEY are the ones who started the tradition, so by all rights it should be them who continue it. So every year for the ten years my son has been in the service he's gotten a beefstick for the holidays from my parents - and that includes Christmas 2003 when he was in Iraq, and again this year in the same place.

So the tradition will continue, at least for as long as I'm around. I'll pick it up when it's my time - which I hope will be a LONG time from now - and if my son has children and one of them is a boy who joins the service, I suspect the tradition will continue.

And that's just fine with me.

IHC