First off, there will be naughty language ahead. In fact you should just go ahead and assume there will be even on those days when I don’t. Pretend it’s always implied even when you don’t see it. I mention it now cuz WordPress is telling me I’m getting more viewers, and maybe some of you don’t know what to expect from me. Maybe it’s cuz I’m posting more regularly than I used to I dunno, but if the following doesn’t scare you away, then welcome aboard. Glad to have ya. If the following offends you then I’m not sorry but I hope you enjoy the rest of your life without me in it. I probably won’t notice your absence either and that’s perfectly alright.

The following advice may not apply to you, but if it applies to someone you know, please pass this along to anyone who needs to see it. I do this as a public service to the future of humanity. Thank you for doing your part to insure the following wisdom gets to those who need it most.

Let’s say you are a young man who is currently with his baby’s momma, and you two are out in public somewhere with your baby, and you sir are owning up to your responsibilities. I applaud you for that. Goodness knows there are few things I like to see more than a young daddy standing up and representing his family in the every day grind of fighting with your baby’s momma in public over whose turn it is to change the diaper.

I am not questioning for a second how loud you two are or how many profane words you use in each other’s direction right there in front of your baby. Your child is gonna learn how to cuss and swear eventually anyway, and it should be under your supervision.

That’s only fair and proper.

And I don’t care if, after the big public spectacle you both display over the changing of the diaper in front of all the gods of those on this bus and everybody, you make an executive decision right then and there to change the baby’s diaper in front of all of us so we can see that you are taking charge and owning up to your responsibilities as a baby daddy. I applaud you sir for showing your baby momma up in public, and proving to her that you can be a bigger asshole than she remembers seeing that night of conception. My hat’s off to you.

You have nothing to prove to mankind any longer, sir. You have done your due diligence. You have fathered a child with this baby’s momma. Your genetic structure is functional. No one is disputing this. You have contributed to the future of evolution and have paid tribute to the human race in the form of that little ray of sunshine with the very smelly patootie. It doesn’t matter if you put a ring on that woman’s finger or walked down the aisle with her. What is important is that you are standing by her side every day, fluctuating her blood pressure and yours, and in every way shape and form observable, you are being a father. You didn’t chicken out and run. You aren’t avoiding paying alimony. You aren’t just there on weekends and holidays when you remember to show up. You are there. You showed up. You show up every day and you make this woman’s life as miserable as she’s making yours.

I got one bit of advice.

You, kind sir, are a mother fucker. You are officially a mother fucker now. I know no one gave you a badge or a medal or a plaque or anything. You got a baby out of the deal that wakes you up at three in the morning and you remember you changed this damn kid’s diaper then too, and the time after that. You’ve done it the last five fucking times and now she wants you to do it again. It’s her fucking turn. I know. I’m not challenging that.

I can see you can count. I can see you count. We’re not disputing this.

You have officially joined The Mother Fucking Men’s Club. As I said before, you have nothing to prove. You no longer need to use your mother fucking dick to hold up your mother fucking pants. We can all see your dick has been used to fuck a mother. We congratulate you. We applaud you. Us old people are happy to see the DNA of humanity will outlive us all and you are partly responsible for that, but go out and buy yourself a mother fucking belt. We can all tell that no one has changed YOUR mother fucking diaper recently, either. And that’s just too much mother fucking information.

P.S.: I woulda told you this in person but you’re half my age and twice my size and you woulda kicked my mother fucking ass.

P.P.S.: Fifteen years from now when you find a broken jizzed condom in the wastepaper basket in her bedroom, I hope you remember that day on the bus, so you’ll both laugh and cry, instead of kill her boyfriend and end up in jail. I also hope by that time you bought a mother fucking belt. Or at least changed your underwear.