Too Rare To Die

I have a 100% real, absolutely serious offer for any women in the audience over the age of 18. I assure you; although I am a humorist, this is no joke.

If you are a non-gross, disease-free, adult female unrelated to myself, I will put a healthy baby in you, free of charge.

There’s only two caveats:

  1. You must fully consent to allowing me to passionately plow you.
  2. You must sign a waiver absolving me of all responsibility for the child.

Why would you consider such an offer? Simple.

I’ll give you the banging of a lifetime, but first and foremost, I’m unvaccinated.

The reason for the first caveat is because you and I both know, a child is best conceived through loving vaginal intercourse. Unless some jizz bank’s gonna pay me at least a grand, I refuse to give away my spermatozoa. It’s too precious. I have the genes of a god; pure American mutt, all the way. You know the difference between mutts and purebreds, right? Because it’s a crucial one. One lives a lot longer than the other.

The second caveat comes from the fact that if I wanted to raise kids, I’d have done it before I turned fifty. I’m not gonna work extra jobs to feed extra mouths; I barely work one job now. It is simply not in the cards. I’m not a responsible guy. But; you wanna have a good baby? I want to fuck. Let’s meet in the middle. If you’re willing to overlook the weird constellation of nipples growing out of my back, we can make some real magic together. And I won’t even stick around to fart up your house. I’ll be on a bus out of town before you can say snausages.

Oh yeah- I have an IQ of 168. If you have thighs that are considered “thicc”, the baby I put inside you will be curing cancer by the time it’s eighteen. (Results not guaranteed.) Plus I’m semi-handsome and have a full head of hair. You would be a fool to pass up this opportunity. Some other woman will take it if you don’t. Maybe even two.

Here; let me seal the deal for you.

Take a wild guess how many times I’ve been sick in the last ten years.

Come on, seriously. Guess. Take into account the fact that I’ve used public transportation frequently the entire time. For a short while I was homeless and slept on a filthy floor. I used to work the back door at a local watering hole until like two in the morning, on busy weekends.

So, how many times since 2012 do you think I’ve gotten sick?

Give up?


It was in early 2018; my new roommate got sick from his awful job, and so I got it. I have not been sick since. I don’t bring it up because I don’t believe in tempting fate.

See, for the first three years of said decade, I lived with my best friend, who was afflicted with diabetes so severe that a mere common cold could kill him. So, to keep from accidentally murdering my friend (who would go on to be murdered by an unknown shitbag in 2015), I willed myself to never sicken.

That’s the key point. Will. I got sick in 2018 because by that time I was so starved and emotionally bludgeoned that I had no natural defense against it. I was lethally deficient in vitamins and proteins. Once I’d gotten better, I vowed never to let that happen again. Ever. Through sheer force of will.

That’s how strong a baby I could shoot into your womb with my penis, like a homemade potato cannon. I can turn your ticking biological clock into a bomb. A baby bomb.

Then I’ll happily step out of the picture while you raise a future president. I won’t even mind; pregnant ladies sick me out something fierce. Get one of your beta-cuck buddies to help you out with all the yucky stuff. I’m only in it for the fucking and the passing on of my demonstrably awesome genetics. You will have a hundred times more fun than a trip to some dingy sperm warehouse. I’ll show up showered and shaved; rest assured, I clean up real nice. I’ll even splash on some Old Spice or some such. If you toss me a few bucks beforehand, I’ll arrive with a dozen red roses. Whatever floats your boat.

Think about it. You could raise a healthy child with no fatherly influence and see what happens. If it all works out, you’ll be like Super Mom. If things so south, you’ll still have someone to take care of you when you’re old and grey. I mean, unless you really goof it up. But what are the odds of that happening?

Oh yeah, one last thing; I’ve been a pot smoker and occasional binge drinker for thirty years, give or take, but that just means I’m extra good in bed. So again, it’s win/win.

Act now; don’t wait. Time is running out until the inevitable day when I can no longer achieve a functional erection.

“There he goes. One of God’s own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.”

-Hunter S. Thompson

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