Whats with some Parents?

Okay, I’ll start out by saying I’m not a father and don’t pretend to know what it’s like to raise a child. My only expertise in this subject is that I have one, which automatically makes me better than fifty percent of Americans. So down to the nitty gritty. As I was driving home today, I swiped my turn signal up to merge into the right lane so I could pass the mid-sized sedan doing ten below and slightly swerving down the freeway. As I passed the silver car and glared over to see who the retard was that was driving like Helen Keller, I first noticed the four to five year old child sitting in the booster seat in the back. Oh, great driving dad! As I glared into the front of the car to see who the magnificent sperm donor was to this child, I see daddy, up front shaving with one hand while his cell is in the other. Wow, is this guy serious? Now, like I said before, I’m not a father and don’t pretend to be, but I’m guessing that the worst thing in the world for a parent would be to lose a child! With that being said, WHY IN THE FUCK WOULD YOU DRIVE DOWN THE BUSY FREEWAY LIKE THIS! You wouldn’t strap your child onto an ACME rocket and send them across the Grand Canyon while you sat idly waving goodbye would you? So, why is it that you would strap your child into the back seat while you give three percent of your attention to the road and the other ninety-seven percent of your attention to being a shitty father! I can see the headlines now, “Father mourns death of only child in car accident.” The local newspaper and channel seven news would interview the father and his only words are, “I don’t know what happen, I was driving and all the sudden we were under a semi-truck. He was probably coked-out and strung out on Red Bull. Why does it always have to be someone’s child who falls victim to these horrible drivers”

            HORRIBLE DRIVERS! Why don’t you take ownership for your own mistakes! Wipe your little girls brains off the pavement, embedded with the asphalt and stick them into a brown paper sack. That’s what you can give your wife when you walk through the door and tell her that her baby is gone because YOU MY FRIEND, ARE AN IDIOT! There should be an application process for people who want to have children. We’ll restrict it to people who have an IQ slightly above a donkey!