Grow a pair

If you want to read something that will make you sick, I suggest you check out this article in Newsweek.

Some testes-deficient putz named Joel Schwartzberg has written a book called “Slouching Toward Fatherhood,” about how hard it was on him to be a father. I heard him being interviewed on the radio last night on the way home, and I almost pulled over and puked on the shoulder of I-75.

After his son was born, he was sad and angry and weepy. He claims he later found out he was going through something called “male postpartum depression.” Dude. Seriously. Come on.

He writes, “I couldn't mask my sadness when my work colleagues asked excitedly about fatherhood. ‘It's good … well, it's OK,’ I said. ‘Actually, it's very, very hard.’ By then, I was close to tears. We were all happy when the conversation ended. Later on, they told me I'd scared the crap out of them. I'm sure at least a few went back on contraception.”

Here’s who should have used contraception – Joel Schwartzberg’s parents. This guy needs General Patton to come by and slap him in the face with his glove. He needs Don Corleone to grab him by the collar and scream, “You can act like a man!”

Yes, Joel, having children is work. But the last thing a kid needs is a wimpy, weepy father who walks around gazing at his loafers and feeling sorry for himself. This guy says, “I took on every parental responsibility with sucked-up reluctance on the outside and contempt on the inside.” Really, changing a diaper or giving a baby a bath was that hard on you?

Maybe I’m being too hard on Mr. Schwartzberg – he claims he later came around to be a good parent – but I just don’t understand why so many men seem to be crappy fathers. Look at professional athletes like Travis Henry or Shawn Kemp or Evander Holyfield, who fertilize women all over creation like romantic Johnny Appleseeds with no thoughts of being there to raise them. Or slimeballs like Larry Bird or Julius Erving who had children, then denied their existence for many years because it would have been bad for their careers or their images.

Being a father is really not that complicated. Women do all of the hard work early on. We don’t carry the babies in our stomachs and see our whole bodies change and then have to eject something the size of a bowling ball from an orifice. All we have to do is endure a couple of Lamaze classes and find a reason to leave the house when we’re the target of a hormone-induced tirade during pregnancy.

Is it easy getting up at 3 a.m. when it’s your turn to calm down a screaming baby? No, but it’s not exactly parachuting into Normandy, either. Buck up and ride it out. When you get a woman pregnant, it’s part of the deal – you are now responsible for the care and well-being of another person, and your selfish desires have to take a backseat. Assuming you survive their teenage years – not a sure thing – you can resume living your precious life when they’re out on their own.

And if you can’t handle it, keep it in your pants and do the world a favor.