Tag Archives: babies

Allan Keyes Has A Bit Of An Issue With Hipsters. And Their Babies.

27 May

May 27, 2013



Today’s rage is courtesy of the indispensable WWTDD *(what would Tyler Durden Do).com.  It’s a hilarious website, and well recommended.  Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, if you’re one of those who hate strong language, I advise you to skip away and I’ll see you next week. Giant F-bomb dropping in 5….4….3….2…1……you’ve been warned:


Why did I write these obviously well-thought out words? Well, let’s try this:


GREENPOINT — Pardis Partow decided to give her year-old son, Parker, some diaper-free time at home — much to the consternation of her Yorkshire terrier.

Because of Parker’s terrible diaper rash, the Bedford-Stuyvesant lawyer-turned-Reiki healer became interested in “elimination communication” — or EC, as it’s called— responding to her son’s cues for when to go to the bathroom instead of having to rely on a diaper.

The hope is for the parent to “catch” pees and poops — whether atop open-cloth diapers, toilets, sinks or behind the multitude of parked cars on city streets.

“Elimination Communication” – because babies are so always well-spoken and eloquent about when it’s time to shoot out this morning’s strained peas.  It’s as if instead of just mindlessly pooping and then rolling around in it like babies usually do, they expect their super hip kids to sit up in the crib and go “Oh mother? I’m feeling a bowel movement coming up. Let’s say in about 5 minutes or so. Please get a copy of the Atlantic for me to read on the potty?”

Below: picture of stupid hipster baby, probably named Parker or Diwali or some other stupid hipster shit name


More nuggets (HA!) from the article:

This week is Go Diaper Free! Week where I live in New York City, a holiday of grossness spearheaded by the assholes that follow this nonsense. So I got to see a hipster dad, handlebar mustache and all, get the “signal” from his baby at a restaurant, try to rush the defecating little bastard to the toilet, and not make it in time. This kid dropped a huge deuce right in the middle of the dining room. The poor bussers had to help this dickhead dad clean it up. He then sat back down and I heard him proudly explain this EC crap to his party.

 Below: Picture of stupid hipster home


Yeah, I know I intermixed in two articles. I DON’T CARE! It’s the same stupid thing anyway.  These people have set themselves up as some sort of pathetic poop whisperers. As if they have nothing better to do then obsessively stare at their kids waiting to discern when some fecal is going to make an appearance. I mean, what the hell??? Don’t these creeps have television? THAT’S UNAMERICAN!!!!!  But seriously, it’s just another attempt by overly-vain losers to try to feel smug about something else. “Look, I’m so in tune with my baby that I know when he’s going to shat, and I know to run and hold a Tupperware under his ass.”  WHOOPDE DAMM DO!  I can’t think of a more useless talent in the world.  This is on the level with twerking  (warning: mild content). [NOTE: You can find this on Youtube but you will have to sign in to verify your age, which is stupid when you see what this is.] 


and being able to shove a condom up your nose and pull it out of your mouth (warning: stupid content)


In the words of some guy on The Simpsons, that’s why they’re kids, because they’re stupid! Leave the babies do what babies do which is crap their diapers and smile. It’s one of the great benefits of being a kid, getting someone to clean up your poopie drawers. Because when it has to be done to us as adults, it’s kind of degrading and dignity-killing. Besides, what kind of parent engages in a practice that only has two outcomes: having your kid drop a nasty loose deuce in public places, or training them to crap into a Tupperware on command? EFF’EM!




Baby (Ass) Wipes

20 Jun

June 20, 2011

Regular readers of this blog (you know who you are, don’t try to deny it) know that I am a frequent reader and aficionado of News  of the Weird and its clone, Weird News. (Oddly, neither has done a cloning story in a while. But I digress.)

A lot of the stories are funny, some make you shake your head in disbelief, and a few are just plain scary. The following story is one that does all three. and even worse, it was reported in a lot of large media outlets. (I don’t say “better” outlets, because, let’s face it, I trust News of the Weird a lot more than the pompous Wolf Blitzer and his CNN cronies. Ever see Jack Cafferty? His sole job on CNN is to read people’s email and act all cranky while insulting Republicans. CNN could save a lot of money by letting Sean Penn read the email. He does the rest for free.)

Do you know about The Adult Baby?

Where to start?

I’ll start with the thought that is uppermost in my mind, paragraph by paragraph.


We’ve got a 350 pound blivet who wears diapers, uses a baby bottle, and sleeps in a giant crib? On the face of it, the guy is clearly disabled. He has to have some mental disorder. No, scratch that, clearly the guy is nuts. He doesn’t deserve SSI benefits, he deserves the rubber room.


That old sack of baleen and ambergris isn’t his mother, she’s his roommate? She treats him like he’s a baby and puts up with that shit? OK, SHE’S the nut.


He knows enough to act normal in public, he builds his own fat adult baby furniture, he drives, and runs an internet support group? This guy is not nuts, he is a freak with a bizarre fetish. Well, he is nuts, but not in any clinical way. He’s nuts in the likes to wear diapers and make poopie way. He’s functional, so he should be working.

Sen. Coburn is absolutely right. This guy needs to get his shit together (and out of his diaper) and get a job and repay all the money we’ve given him. If I lived in Oklahoma I’d vote for the guy. Then I’d move out of Oklahoma.

But wait, there’s more. Let’s hear his side of the story.

Continuing, paragraph by paragraph:

4 and 5- He threatened to kill himself if his benefits were taken away. I say take them away. He’s not killing himself. This turd knows just what he’s doing.

6- He is an able-bodied 30-year old man and she attends his needs? SHE IS THE NUT! If the previous paragraphs with the death threats did nothing else, it showed that the Adult Baby is intelligent and knows what he is doing. He can think logically. And he can’t work from home in his diaper?

7- Legitimately disabled or not, I don’t think I want my tax money to subsidize  his woodworking hobby. And if the furniture can’t support his weight, hey fatty- go on a diet!

8- Lifestyle? Lifestyle? This is what is wrong with the world in a single word: “Lifestyle.” Living like a 30-year-old infant is not a “lifestyle,” it is insane. We are legitimizing it by calling it a lifestyle. This doesn’t need legitimizing, this needs demonizing. Am I intolerant? No. (OK, yes, but this is different.) We are a world of enablers. Why are we enabling this?

9- Again, the Senator is correct.

10-“Trauma from childhood abuse.” I don’t want to seem to be trivializing this. I know that it is a very real problem for a great many people. You know what those people do? THEY GET HELP. They don’t retreat into infancy and find consolation in the flabby arms of a second mother. (You may be wondering if I think that this is any worse than drinking or drugs. I say it is.)

11- His website only requires four hours a month? Get out of here! Mr. Blog’s Tepid Timewaster takes me four hours a day just to come up with a topic. Typing this post took an hour.

So out of a morbid sense of curiosity, and against my much better judgment, I went to he Adult Baby’s website.  (Don’t worry, I browsed in-private, deleted all my cookies, and disinfected my computer. And I am still sure I am on some awful FBI list now.)

UGH. I hope you’re happy now. Seeing how crappy and badly written it is, I can almost believe he only spent four hours on it.

12- He said his craftsman skills were overstated because he only drilled six holes on camera and the chair was pre-made the day before. Um, but wasn’t he guy who did it? So who cares when it was made, he made it.

I would like to end with a personal message to The Adult Baby. I hope that, in some way, perhaps we can find some common ground, that I may help you adjust to life in big boy pants, that someday you can join the rest of the non-diapered world. I leave you with these words: goo goo, ga ga, gurgle gurgle goo.

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