We will be using the medium of babies to express how we feel about this scenario.

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?

This one isn´t even cute.

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.

This baby feels better now that he has ralphed. You make babies ralph. High five.

 *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.

If going a whole month without running around town, talking shit about yur husband, let him go. At least HE won´t be a miserable twat for the rest of his life.

Nothing is better than a wife that hasn’t grown so crusty, jaded, and complacent in her marriage that she can’t take a few minutes out of her busy schege to do something for her husband. A surprise dinner, a homemade card, a drink and slipper greeting, an asshole bleaching; dudes dig that shit, and it’s nice to remind him he hasn’t bought permanently into the life of ball mangling, future sapping, constant drunkitude Leah Ramini makes marriage out to be. Unfortunately (for the women at least), the more uncreative amongst the fairer sex are often left with constant sore-jaw for lack of any better ideas as to how to show their appreciation. If only there was a way to do that without actually doing anything.

Enter Facebook, with a Group that firmly yanks our sacks out of the matrimonial Icy Hot with 31 ideas that allow a wife to indulge her narcissism and natural predilection toward condescension while pretending to do something sweet for her husband. Ladies, they’re all awesome, and they beat the bag out of giving that semi-annual “Relations With the Lights On” coupon he might actually grow the gumption to redeem one of these days.

It’s called “31 Days of Prayer for Your Husband,” and it is even more preachy and self-serving (in a good way) than the title suggests. Contained in this set of solipsistic psalms is all the problem externalization and imagined solution outsourcing any pious Christian wife could possibly ask to put off the inevitable messy divorce for one whole month. Here’s one of my favorites:

Day 1 – Lord, I pray that my husband will grow spiritually and consider his accountability before You. I pray that he will guard his heart by developing spiritual disciplines – Bible reading and study, prayer, meditation, scripture memorization, etc. (2 Peter 3:18; Prov. 4:23)

Fun! Nothing says matrimonial bliss like scripture memorization. Ooo! Maybe on a hard, splintery, wooden chair! But that’s not all! For the same price you get this popular classic.

Day 27 – I pray that my husband will understand the importance of taking care of his body – the temple of the Holy Spirit – for the glory of God. I pray that he will practice self-control by making wise food choices and get sufficient exercise to stay healthy. (Rom. 12:1-2; 1 Cor. 6:19-20, 9:27)

Gotta stay sexy for that hot hot fundie sex, and if Jesus has to be your personal trainer, so be it. Any potential flaw you could possibly imagine, any condescending rule of order you can winch onto your already strangled, sexually repressed relationship, “31 Days of Prayer for Your Husband” has an a la carte menu of haiku sized petitions to the almighty hypnotizer to suit all of your needs. Remember, you knew when you got into this marriage this guy couldn’t be trusted to bathe himself regularly. A time comes when you have to call in a third party to see to the big stuff. This one takes that lesson all the way home to mom:

Day 8 – Lord, I pray that my husband will work hard to provide for our family, to the best of his ability. I pray that the character qualities necessary for a successful career and ministry will be a growing part of his character – persistence, decisiveness, strength, an analytical mind, organizational skills, positive relationships with people, determination, etc. (Rom. 12:11; 1 Cor. 15:58)

Did you see that? “Etc.”! It´s like a letter to Santa! I´d really like a trike, a nina turtles dream house, a little brother, and you know, whatever else you can think of. Asking for things is tiring. Like thinking. Surprise me.

Day 7 – I pray that my husband will safeguard his heart against inappropriate relationships with the opposite sex. Lord, let his heart be pure and undivided in his commitment to me. (Prov. 6:23-24, 26; Rom 13:14)

This is getting a little insulting… Why exactly did you marry this dude if you thought there was the chance he was going to screw around. Where´s the trust, babe? You need to call in outside help to make sure I´m not boinking my secretary? Shit…

Day 10 – Lord, I pray my husband will cultivate strong integrity, and not compromise his convictions. I pray that his testimony will be genuine, that he will be honest in his business dealings, and will never do anything that he needs to hide from others. (Prov. 20:7; 1 Tim.1:5,3:7; Eph.6:10-12)

If you genuinely feel you can’t count on me to be a decent, upstanding man and a loving, caring husband, you better start praying I don’t throw you down the stairs. Or maybe you should have done your praying before you committed to marrying my sorry, deadbeat ass, and gotten yourself a good, happy Jesus slave. Better late than never though, right? Go for it. And while you have the J.C. on the horn, want to put in an order for a blond with nice tits and a generous policy concerning tush occupancy? You know, while we’re asking for improvements.

Day 20 – God, I pray that my husband will yield his mind and thoughts to the Lord. I pray that he will not entertain immoral or impure thoughts,and that he will resist the temptation to indulge in pornography.(Prov. 27:12; 2 Cor. 10:5

Are you noticing a trend here? Bonus, ladies. At the same time you are publicly – you created a fucking Facebook group about it, now – publicly taking credit for doing a good wifely deed, you are really praying for nobody but yourself. Might as well pray that a potpourri truck is snagged in your giant doily web out in the street, or whatever chicks wish for, because that shit is all you. This is as juvenile as those fourth grade girls that make those little notebook paper fortune tellers, and ask them if their future husband will be handsome, swarthy (pirate girl), or a doctor, or a Nick Carter. Not to mention exactly as reliable.

Kindly allow me to speak for my target male demographic for the moment. Ladies, if you feel the need to grant us this kind of favor, don’t bother. We deal with enough condescension and derision from the bulk of our daily lives, we don’t need it from you. We had every intention of keeping it in our pants and forking over the checks until we found out you didn’t think us capable. Now we want to screw around just to show you how useless your “prayers” for “us” are. So thanks, but we’d rather not be the victim of your spiritual masturbations. And if that doesn’t drive the point home, here’s my one day prayer for you:

“May my wife have the trust to know I´m not going to screw her sister, the decency not to talk shit about me to her imaginary friends, and the willingness to provide regular beejes because she appreciates me for who I am, not for who her sky wizard can make me. (Book of Eatmebitch 20:21)”

There you have it. There are far more productive things you can do on your knees. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of bitches cutting the shit, stop calling us “hubbies.” Squirmsville.