Matt Forney
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vasectomy

Debunking the Case Against Getting a Vasectomy

The Private Man got one. Cappy Cap got one. Professor Mentu just got one. Danny’s thinking about getting one.

So am I.

In my specific case, getting the snip is both possible yet unlikely. It’s possible in that I still have health insurance. Yes, that’s right: the guy who’s hitchhiking across the country and living out of a mountaineering backpack has health insurance. It’s unlikely in that while I am single and child-free like all the aforementioned guys, I’m far younger then they are: Mentu, Danny and the Captain are in their thirties and Private Man is a Civil War vet. Given the elaborate ruse Mentu had to concoct to get his doctor to tie his tubes, nothing short of a fake wife and some forged child support documents will help my case.

The benefits of a vasectomy are obvious. I can blast inside any woman with impunity. No pregnancy scares. No having to split the cost of an abortion. No having to pay child support. No shotgun marriages. And frankly, I’m not sure if I want to have kids. Beyond the obvious fact that having even one little womb-turd would seriously cut into my drinking time, I have enough self-awareness to know that I’d make a crummy father. And there’s the not-inconsequential fact that most women are unfit to be mothers as well.

So what’s stopping me from taking the plunge?

Realistically, what’s kept me from exploring vasectomies is my pathological fear of having sharp objects near my fleshy bits. But there are arguments against it that don’t revolve around my squeamishness. Here are the ones I could think of.

1. Your parents expect you to give them grandchildren. If you don’t, you’re letting them down.

This is probably the only concern I could give a damn about. Like Mentu, I’m my parents’ only son; if I get the snip, the Forney name dies with me.

But why should I care?

Filial piety implies that I “owe” my parents for having raised me and putting up with all my bullshit, but this logic unravels when you consider that I wasn’t given a choice in the arrangement. I didn’t ask to be born and neither did you; one day, your parents had one too many apple martinis, got naked and nine months later, you were thrust crying and screaming into this world. Debate over the personhood of the unborn notwithstanding, fetuses and zygotes aren’t known for their negotiation skills… or doing anything aside from floating in amniotic fluid.

If you kidnapped a homeless man and made him do your housework, no one would call you a caring or kind person if you fed him in exchange. They’d call you a sick, twisted fuck and you’d probably go to jail. Sure, you’re keeping him alive, but he didn’t ask to get snatched off the street and made to scrub your toilet every morning. Yet, we congratulate people when they bring children into this world and then force them into a life of indentured servitude.

I’m well aware that these arguments are goony as hell. The desire to procreate is something that goes beyond rationality and sober thought. But why am I forever required to slavishly obey my parents, even after I’ve grown up and moved out of the house?

2. The white race needs more babies to outbreed the dusky hordes! You’re contributing to the coming idiocracy if you don’t have children!

This comes from the Kinist/Stormfront types who (literally) think that I should be a walking sperm dispenser, in anticipation of the Day of the Rope. Get married and pump out babies for the white race! It’s your duty!

Putting aside the idea that I should be loyal to the mass of mouth-breathing Mongoloids that comprise the white race, if it’s pure numbers you want, the traditional nuclear family is the worst possible method to get them.

Were I to get hitched today and immediately start knocking up my betrothed, assuming she was in my age range (18-24), we’d be able to get out at most 18-20 kids over the course of our lives, accounting for a nine-month pregnancy and “cool-off” time between each birth. On the other hand, if I were to donate sperm, I could father exponentially more children; hundreds or even thousands. Granted, some of them might end up with shitty mothers, but again, since all the Stormfronters care about is quantity, who cares?

3) God says you’re immoral if you don’t have children.

A favorite argument of the traditionalist set, one they curiously never deploy on slutty women. I’ll let guys like Dalrock and Mentu who are better acquainted with the church slam these white knights.

4) You’ll be lonely in your old age if you don’t have kids.

In the blogosphere, I’ve never seen someone who actually is old make this argument; it always comes from naive kids my age who took the red pill then coughed it back up. The idea is that life is like a Disney movie and that I’ll spend my last years surrounded by smiling grandchildren who will lovingly ask me about the bad old days, when we only had weak 4G smartphone Internet and we had to use earbuds to listen to our iPods instead of having the music downloaded directly into our brains. If I selfishly get the snip, I’ll die alone and unloved plodding to Bingo Night at the Presbyterian church every Friday with no one to comfort me as the Grim Reaper drags me into the underworld.

In what universe does this actually happen?

Here’s the reality: if you have kids, ten-to-one they’re going to move to another city or another state when they grow up to get away from home, chase economic opportunity or both. If they marry and settle down, they’re going to do it far away from you. You’ll see your grandchildren once a year at most (at Christmas), and they’ll have absolutely no interest in talking to you, because to them, you’ll be just some weird old guy nattering on about what things were like back in your day. When you devolve to the point where you can’t even wipe your ass without help or remember your own name, your loving children will shove you in a nursing home to get manhandled by underpaid Mexicans all day. And when you die, they’ll have a brief funeral, ship your carcass off to the crematorium, then stash your ashes in the back of a closet after fighting for weeks about how best to divvy up your estate.

Please tell me how this is any better from not having any kids.

Either way, I’m still going to end up alone and unloved, the only difference being that if I have kids, I’m going to have to break my back for 18+ years to raise them. Somebody explain to me how that’s a good bargain.

5. There are marriageable women out there, you’re just looking in the wrong places.

This is a favorite among old farts, woman-centric as they are. It’s why the phrase Not All Women Are Like That exists: whenever a man points out how screwed up modern women, it’s always made out to be his fault. It’s his attitude that’s the problem. It’s where he’s going that’s the problem. “Well, maybe if you stopped chasing bar skanks, you’d find a decent girl.” Because as we all, people who go to bars and clubs are an isolated minority with nothing in common with the general population.

Arguing with these people is a waste of time.

Listening to your parents on this topic is a dumb idea, because almost everything they have to say is wrong. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong, but I learned more about dating and women from a month of reading Roissy/Heartiste than a lifetime of advice from them.

These are all the arguments I could think of. Got your own arguments that you want to destroy? Post ’em in the comments. The case for getting the snip when I’m old enough to fool the doctors is looking stronger and stronger.

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