Here is a sample front page article lol....
A couple months ago, out of the blue, an old girlfriend of mine who I hadn’t seen in about a year gave me a call. Generally I would have told this former chin omelet recipient to give her head a shake or sober up immediately, but she appeared to be alcohol free, and from what I remembered she was fairly competent in the sack. Therefore I was feeling charitable and allowed her to continue to talk about whatever it is women talk to me about while I nod my head and act like I'm listening. Or in the case of a phone conversation, I do the "active listening" routine and just repeat something she says every few moments and say "Yes" and "Uh Huh" to seem like I actually care what she has to say.
This conversation was a little different. At some point during it I couldn't help but hear the words "baby" and "almost 3 months old now," which grabbed my attention and caused my internal calculator to start doing the math. With my interest genuinely peaked and some doubt as to the quality of the condoms I purchase (anything that comes in a 100 pack box for $20 probably isn’t much more than a sperm strainer), I agreed to go over to her apartment for some dinner and to "catch up."
I was aware I wasn't the only guy this particular girl was smashing pissers with a year ago, and she did assure me the baby was not mine. But just to settle any future paternity claims or in case I had to start saving for a college fund 18 years from now, I decided to go check out the little shit machine first hand. If the kid had a 2 pound cock and porn collection at 3 months old there was a good chance he was from my own loins. Of course, there could be more suubtle signs, so I knew I needed to look into his pudgy little face and get some confirmation that the kid was indeed NOT mine just to be certain. And I vaguely remembered that this girl could suck a watermelon through a straw… in other words she had some stellar fellatio skills that I needed to refresh my memory with. Just to ease my mind, and because I felt too lazy to jerk off that day, I decided it was in my best interests to go over for a visit.
Arriving around supper time that night, I was greeted at the door by my now stretch marked ex and her bundle of puking, shitting, crying, neediness that was hanging off her tit like the leeches hanging off Will Wheaton’s nut sack in Stand By Me. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the whole "Glory of Motherhood" propaganda that women have been drilling into us since, years ago, someone decided to let them work and, God forbid, vote. But the shock of seeing a girl you used to leave squirmy moustaches of semen on less than a year ago 100 pounds heavier and with parasite attached to a titty you once lovingly placed your cock on before cumming… well, that just isn’t something Botticelli would have painted pictures about I’m sure.
The beauty of breast feeding and "Glory of Motherhood" idea quickly dissolved into mild nausea and an attempt to divert my eyes at every opportunity. Fortunately, I noticed the tiny lad hanging from her chesticle was of a definite darker pigment than I. There was no doubt upon seeing the kid that this little niglet was the spawn of her "Time to piss off my redneck parents by giving reparations to the black man" phase in her sexual exploration. I’d like to give thanks right now to whatever Cosby Kid left his Jello Pudding in this girl. For if your swimmers had not mastered the Black Stroke and left this girl with child, my own future may have taken a very dramatic turn for the worse that day.
Although I had already discerned from her current physical state that I wouldn’t be interested in refreshing my memory of this woman’s skin flute playing skills, and the Welfare Brown color of the kid ensured it wasn’t my own offspring, I still decided I’d be a gentleman of sorts and stick around for some dinner. The mild nausea had already passed and being of the "rotund persuasion," there are few meals this boy turns down. Even if it did turn out only to be pork chops, corn, and Kraft Dinner… a home cooked meal is always a nice change from the week old pizza, fast food, and Lean Cuisine that someone as inherently lazy as myself feeds upon nightly. And being around a new mom, you want to appease her nurturing nature and let her feed or tend to you in the comforting and soothing ways only a Mom can and that seems to bring them so much joy. So I gnarled at the chops in mushroom soup, and chomped on the corn I’d be seeing again during my next triple coiler. When I got to the Kraft Dinner however, I noticed something was a little off. It tasted sort of sweet, and not at all like the powdered cheese and butter, salt saturated Mac n’ Cheese that I was familiar with. I couldn’t quite place what it tasted like, but it was haunting and oddly familiar. Thinking little of it, I asked for a glass of milk to help wash down dinner. Something to rinse the slightly tainted and obscure taste out of my mouth was needed. But when I asked for the milk, Mother Stretchmarks let me in on a little secret regarding that night’s meal:
"Oh sorry, I was out of milk. I hope you don’t mind too much but I used some breast milk to make the Kraft Dinner."
Now I realize this might have set some of you off. Many would have run to the bathroom before hurling on the carpet, or ran straight for the door cursing the fact this woman had slipped nipple juice into your meal. But it didn’t really faze me all that much. And why should it? Perhaps it was shock causing me to rationalize the situation and keep the Technicolor stew from springing forth, but when I thought about the situation, I could break it down into something not only palatable, but perhaps into one of the greatest ideas I’ve ever come up with. The idea breaks down like this:
- For most of us our first food was breast milk. Granted, I was white trash raised on Dr.Pepper, Popcorn, and chili from a can. But for many, the titty elixir is nourishment number one for the first year or so of our lives.
- Breast milk research has shown that it strengthens the immune system, provides unique enzymes and proteins that aide in developing brain function, and may in fact fight certain types of cancer. Not to mention, it can alleviate diarrhea and other ailments common in the first few months of an infant’s life.
- Many of us still drink milk or eat milk byproduct like cheese throughout our adult lives. What makes you think a cow is any healthier or in any better condition to produce boob broth and serve it to the masses, than a female human is?
- There are hundreds of millions of lactating women right now on this planet. Many of them are jobless, welfare receiving, unemployable, halfwits that got pregnant after a one night stand, drunken stumble-fuck, or other completely preventable event. These women must serve SOME purpose on the planet.
- These women will milk the system with whatever made up and tragic story they can concoct to stay at home and let hard working, tax paying, 9-5 people like you and I pay the baby tab for their loose morals and ignorance of contraceptives.
- So let’s milk them.
- Lets start a government funded program and business that will be referred to as "The Mother’s Milk Company" to put these pariahs and social program vampires to their one beneficial use : Food Production
Just think, we could potentially solve world hunger. The homeless and poor of this planet would have good, healthy, protein rich milk and milk products to feast upon. When you really think about it, it isn’t such a far fetched or implausible idea. We’ve all known one of two women who really serve no other purpose than rented womb and future feedbag to some bastard child. And when you think of the variety that could be involved with human milk production, you really could appease everyone. Chinese, Japanese, Pakistani, White Trash, Bel-Air, Indian… there are countless varieties of milk that could be introduced to the immerging market. Brands could directly correspond to the women and area from which the tit came. It could be like the wine industry, but potentially less pretentious and instead of Pinot Noirs and Sauvignon Blancs, you would have Ghetto Negro and Crème du Kentucky. Countries that could never afford a dairy industry or to raise cattle could gain importance in the new global market of consumer ready breast milk and subsequent biproducts.
With this idea in my head, and a full belly I left that night completely satisfied. Even though I didn’t get the sort of milking I was hoping for when I went over to reacquaint myself with her smegma vacuuming skills. As disappointed as I may have been about that set back, I was excited about my idea and considered asking for a taste from the tap before I left, but Mother Stetchmarks mammoth mammary glands were being occupied and I didn’t want to seem rude by cutting in. Also, I remembered what a cock hungry whore this girl was… and couldn’t remember if A.I.D.S or any communicable diseases could be passed on through breast milk. Maybe there is a down side to my idea after all. I do, however, enjoy the idea that only beautiful silicone breasts would be seen in public and all the sagging, droopy, pool -ball-in-a-sock looking tits would be hooked up to dairy machines somewhere in Wisconsin.
To be fair to the men out there, I did come up with the idea of selling off all the jobless, lazy, chronic masturbators' sperm to make protein bars. But then I realized only fags and the cock craziest of sperm hungry whores would probably buy them. So I’ll stick to my Mother’s Milk Company plan.
See you in the dairy section of your local grocery store,
