(If one can “Go to town” when doing something with gusto, should not

the superlative increase be “going to towns”? These are articles about some of those people who merely went to town in their ridiculousness, but did not fully commit by going to towns.)

“For the first time in years I felt sexually alive.”

The headline reads: Indiana Grandmother  Is Having A New Baby. With Her Grandson. It´s from yet another retarded “mom blog.” She is 72, he is 26. They didn´t know each other for most of his life (there was some kind of adoption scenario, who cares?), but when they met, it wasn´t even a matter of time before they were slapping pink wrinkly against gray wrinkly in the game of horizontal shuffleboard.

“I called Phil into my bedroom, sat him on the bed, and then I leant over and kissed him.”

They are in love, they make fulfilling, passionate, incredibly careful whoop, and they are going to be parents.

“I never in a million years thought at 72 I’d be ‘pregnant’ and in love with my grandson.”

The entire scenario is so deliciously groady, so horrifically and philosophically rank  that it rolls around the mouth like well aged santorum (c´mon, catch up).  In case we weren´t clear, Scumbag Style completely endorses this – - wait what?

The pair paid $54,000 (£35,000) to find a surrogate mother and buy a donor egg to inseminate with Phil’s sperm.

Let us get this straight, Phil. You went far enough to engage in a multi-generational incestuous…. nyehhh carnal relationship with your grandmother. You decided, against the very dictates of nature, to make a frigging baby with this woman who may not live to see the birth, let alone Junior Prom. You are able to describe, in graphic, hilariously nauseating detail, your first kiss and subsequent sex life with what amounts to a living sex doll made of rheumatism, arthritis, and extra skin who is also related to you. You did all of this and you didn´t have the decency to grant us the opportunity for a couple of retard jokes?

That was pretty inconsiderate, Phil. You choose now to do the responsible thing? Your entire adult life has been the setup to a monumental knock knock joke of proportions H.P. Lovecraft couldn´t have imagined, and you chuck the punch line at the last minute? You bastard! We mean, shit, the author of this SBS post is a whole year older than you, and he isn´t entirely sure he is old enough to make the kind of sexual decisions you are making for yourself, and you go ahead and get all conscientious on us?

Listen, bro. Nobody is judging your relationship. We bet you are madly in lust, absolutely in love, and up until now, we wished you the best. We just also thought it was super icky, like Garbage Pail Kids. Exactly like Garbage Pail Kids. Because remember when you collected all the cards, and these kids were just plain hilariously gross? And then they made the movie and you saw your trashed out, scummy assed friends once destined for toothless, methy gutter laughs suddenly singing songs about friendship and working together and good civic duty and shit? That´s what you´re doing to our fun, and we don´t appreciate it. If you´re going to be a scumbag, embrace it! You don´t half-ass the scumbaggery.

She´s not even going to technically be the mother now, you realize. You bought eggs and rented a womb. This is your baby! She friggin´ tricked you! She´s just going to be the great grandmother, and you´re just producing your own competition. When she´s 96, she´s going to trade up to the newer model of you. I… gar! You had potential, Phil. And you blew it.

 *As an aside: Mothers, I understand you want pictures of your ugly-assed spawn all over the internets, taking up space that could be used for valuable info. Shit, I want it too, obviously, I need these things. But for fuck´s sake, they don´t need to all be 2000×2000 pixels. It only makes it harder on the people who want to exploit them for a cheap laugh.