License to Breed

Recently I heard a story on NPR’s “Morning Edition” about a movement called “QuiverFull,” which is comprised of a bunch of Evangelical wackos who feel it is their divine duty to breed like rabbits. The group takes its name and inspiration from Psalm 127, which says, "Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one's youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them."

Personally, I’m glad my quiver is empty. My experience tells me that kids are more like arrows pointed at you. The Bible, and particularly the Old Testament, may be a good source of guidance if you’re looking for instructions on how to slay a giant when no AK-47 is around or how to settle a custody dispute over a child (nice fake-out with the sword, King Solomon!), but it’s not exactly the best blueprint for living in the modern world. When the words “Go forth and multiply” were written, the world wasn’t overcrowded with six and half billion people, a good many of them starving and/or living in poverty, with natural resources growing scarcer by the day.

But the good QuiverFull folks think that God wants them to squeeze out as many little Bible-thumpers as they can. One woman, who currently has “only” seven children, figures God will tell her when to stop. Let’s hope God sends her a sign soon, like maybe a bolt of lightning to the uterus. One QuiverFull husband, after fathering a mere four children, had a vasectomy reversed so that he could make like a multiplication table.

Nancy Campbell, a leader of the Quiverfull movement and author of Be Fruitful and Multiply, regrets that she only had six children—although she has 35 grandchildren. She describes the womb as a powerful weapon against “the enemy,” who apparently is anyone who doesn’t believe the in the same baby-crazy God this oddball cult does.

In her view, and I’m paraphrasing here, Christians need to get on the procreating stick (so to speak), because Muslims are having little godless terrorist babies left and right and we’ve got to catch up or die! Ol’ Nancy believes that with enough righteous sperm and eggs, in a few generations the QuiverFull kids could take over the U.S. government and “sinful” cities like San Francisco and replace us godless heathens with right-thinking Christian Americans.

I shudder to think.

I don’t have children of my own, and never will. You might be wondering why an amazing specimen like me isn’t spreading his superior seed like mayonnaise across the huge slice of Wonderbread that is this great land of ours. The truth is I was raised on a pig farm in Amarillo by my ultra-strict grandparents whose motto was “Spare the rod? Are you kidding?” and was forced to watch Hee-Haw reruns on a nightly basis. It’s an experience I’ve never quite gotten over and wouldn’t want to unconsciously perpetuate on my own kids. An additional truth is that if I had a child, it would cut into my movie-watching and beer-drinking time. We all have our own ways of contributing to the greater good. Besides, there are more than enough people to guarantee the survival of the species without me chipping in.

Anyway, this question comes to mind: if we have to obtain licenses to do fairly simple things like selling real estate, killing harmless animals, practicing medicine, getting married or driving, why not require a license something as important as having a child? I’m generally in favor of unfettered human freedom, but procreation affects us all. Just look at the Octomom, the mentally disturbed woman who already had six children she couldn’t properly care for, yet gave birth to eight more urchins thanks to one unscrupulous doctor and the miracle of in vitro fertilization. She and her 14 kids have already become an economic burden to the state of California, and chances are at least one of those octobabies will some day tote an M-16 to middle school and mow everyone down because mommy is a neurotic, selfish nutbird.

Why does it seem to be the wackjobs and idiots who want to breed the most, well beyond the average of 2.3 children that comprise the average most families? (I am admittedly curious how one has .3 of a child.) Where will this excessive procreation lead?

Mike Judge’s mediocre but prescient film “Idiocracy,” tells the story tells of a man of average intelligence and ability who’s accidentally put in suspended animation and wakes up several hundred years later to find that only idiots have been breeding for the past several generations and the average IQ has dropped to roughly that of Paris Hilton, thereby making Mr. Average the smartest man on the planet. I fear this prophecy is being fulfilled even as I sit here drinking beer.

Society pays the price for its citizens being able to breed at will (or by accident) in the form of child abuse, families on welfare, and Britney Spears. I think we should devise a simple questionnaire for wannabe parents to answer before they are allowed to procreate. Any halfway intelligent person could get it right. I picture easy multiple-choice questions to screen out truly stupid and potentially dangerous parents. Here are two sample questions:

If your baby is crying and unhappy for no apparent reason, you should:

1. Give the baby Benadryl or Vicodin or heroin if you got it to shut him up ‘cause you gots to have your sleep
2. Stick the brat in the dryer. You got wet laundry in there that needs dryin’ anyhow.
3. Patiently and gently hold the baby and rock him/her until the crying subsides
4. Trade the baby to LaTonya down the street for LaTonya’s sofa ‘cause LaTonya wants babies but can’t have none after Darryl put her in the hospital that time and damn, her sofa is really good for nappin’ on.

A good baby name:

1. Rhymes with “Zebediah”
2. Can be found in a medical dictionary or a bathroom stall
3. Should be chosen carefully, keeping in mind that your child might face ridicule and/or shame for a highly unusual name
4. Should honor our Civil War heroes. The South gonna rise agin!

I’d say 20 such questions would get the job done. I mean, really—is this too much to ask? In the meantime, I urge all you smart people to get with the baby-making. We’ve got to counterbalance the millions of morons born every day. And don’t worry—if you have a baby that you decide you don’t really want, Angelina Jolie will adopt it. It’s too late for me to contribute personally to this smart procreation project. I have an extensive DVD collection that’s going to take years for me to get through, not to mentions hundreds of beer brands I haven’t yet tasted.

It’s up to you, Mensa candidates. Happy breeding!