Dear Moms,

I hate to break it to you, but your kid is probably not special, cute or entertaining to others. It may be a hard pill to swallow, but it's entirely the truth. In fact, I would rather masturbate with napalm than be subjected the the screaming drool factory that you thought an appropriate accessory to bring with you to the coffee shop.

Laptop? Check. Wallet? Check. A loud and obnoxious baby that is certain to annoy everyone within earshot? You betcha!

Take, for example, little Taylor running around by the bathroom, touching every chair as she walks by. Can't you keep your crotchfruit on a leash? Because I swear to Christ, if she comes near me with those sticky hands one more time I'm going to be forced to tell her the truth about Santa. Don't believe me? Ask Aiden's mom --- I gave that little snot machine the 411 on the Easter Bunny just last week, and then asked him if he knew that he was adopted. If you parents would just keep your kids in check, I wouldn't be forced to lay down my own style of vigilante justice.

Speaking of vigilante justice, if you won't beat your child, I will. I mean damn! Somebody's got to do it! When I was a kid, my parents used to constantly threaten me with physical punishment (e.g.: I'll give you something to cry about!). And you know what? I didn't run all over the place screaming my head off. When I got a bit too far out of line, my parents would follow through with their threats. Especially in public places (they were just stealthy about it, like a kung-fu knuckle to the top of the head or a quick pinch underneath a table).
 

I guess back then, people had a sense of shame when their kids misbehaved. I don't know for sure what happened to it, but I suspect the terrorists stole the shame back in 1994 in an effort to expedite America's demise. As a true patriot, I find this unacceptable. So, while I can't exactly beat the shit out of your brat in front of you, I can deftly trip him as he runs between tables. It takes a village, right? Isn't that what Hillary Clinton said?

The next time I'm waiting in line for an iced Americano and a mother starts bragging to me about inconsequential things like the size of a shitstain her kid left on the carpet (it was shaped just like the state of California!), I'm really going to lose my cool. Your babies aren't precious, they're an unfortunate aspect of most people's day to day lives that they wish would disappear from places like Target, movie theaters and --- for the love of everything holy --- my mother effin' coffee shop.

XOXO,

Brother Max