Think how utterly, evilly selfish it is to have a child. "Oh, honey, wouldn't a baby just be splendid? With its little hands, and its little feet and its little arms and legs and face and smile. Oh, we have to have one." Great, and once it's done, here is another little human to have to grow and learn what a sick collection of animals it is into which he's been born; who has to learn the pointlessness of the asinine cycle of human life; the pain and unhappiness that acompany; the stupidity of the majority; the outrage of old age and death; the unfair circumstances of competition amongst organisms; the injustice of suffering, the absurdity of doctrines and idealogies; the cold blade of war; the inner demons of hunger, desire, self-loathing; who will be taught to hate and feel shame and fear and remorse, regret, guilt; who will one day suck from nonexistence another little conscious body to continue the hideous lineage of incessant dark-humor; and who will one day die, wrapped in a urine-stained, hospital-issued death-shroud, plugged into beeping, blipping machines, fed through dripping bags armed with needles at the mercy of smart-ass little nurses, who know not yet that they, too, will be faced with this end.

What more horrific and vile act than that of having a child? There can be none. Torture is not worse, murder is not worse, nor rape or anything else, because it is birth that precludes them all. Were it not for birth, none of these other atrocities would even have a chance to be performed. It is the miracle of birth and life that drowns the light of the world, and it is that selfish obeyence of desire that is hung over the heads of all parents in the look of disgust on their disaffected teenager's face. How can one repay an infinite offense? -- Shane Smith