A number of the journals I read are written by well educated middle class young women, and there seems to be a common thread running through much of them: these women all seem to suffer with periods of the blues or depression.

After careful study, I believe I have come upon the other common thread that these depressed young middle class women: none of them are pregnant or have children. And after careful consideration I have determined that this is what is causing the depression within them. They need to make babies.

I understand that many of them may not realize this or may in fact object to my analysis, but I am quite certain that I am correct. Why am I so certain? Well first because I have an very large head which indicates that I have a lot brains therein, and this larger amount of brains allows me to deduce things which these poor depressed women can not. Second, I have a child, and can speak with experience when I say that parenting has made me very happy. Finally, I would note that my mother was insane before she began having children and that pregancy and raising young children rid her of her mental illness for fourteen years. There are clearly happy hormones that are produced when a woman is pregnant and raising children.

Many of these journal writing young women are under the delusion that they need to have a level of career fufillment before becoming parents. I would dispute this, and would urge these women to recognize that while the ability to bear children falls drastically during a woman's third decade, they will retain the same intellectual prowess at the age of forty five that they presently have. Furthermore while children do in fact occupy a great deal of time, it is still possible to fit career and children together.

I understand that many women have no man in their life to provide sperm for them, and that many others have men, but those men have either problems with ejaculation or inadequate sperm or inferior sperm production. To these women I offer the solution of myself. Not to help raise children, but to provide sperm for the production of children which they may then raise without interference from myself. Why not just obtain the sperm from a sperm bank? It clearly will not be my sperm, and my sperm is clearly superior.

Why is my sperm is superior? Proven fecundity. My father and mother produced an almost unimaginable number of children. And clearly that fecundity has in some part rubbed off on me. Furthermore, my sperm will produce the sort of child that will help these women deal with their depression. My own child has made me happier than any one else's child has ever made them. In addition I have been informed by my mother that as a child I was a source of great joy in her life. My mother is a very honest person and I have no reason to doubt her.

So to the depression laden well educated middle class women of blogdom, I set forth the following mandate: Go forth and make babies. If you need help, let me know. I will provide sperm.

I leave you now with the lyrics of the song 'I've never been to me' by Charlene from 1970 something.

Brainsalad
*bows*
*dodges flying tomatoes and stones*


Hey lady, you, lady, cursin' at your life
You're a discontented mother and a regimented wife
I've no doubt you dream about the things you never do
But I wish someone had a talk to me like I wanna talk to you
Ooh I've been to Georgia and California, oh, anywhere I could run
Took the hand of a preacherman and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me

Please lady, please, lady, don't just walk away
'Cause I have this need to tell you why I'm all alone today
I can see so much of me still living in your eyes
Won't you share a part of a weary heart that has lived a million lies
Oh I've been to Nice and the isle of Greece
Where I sipped champagne on a yacht
I moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo and showed 'em what I've got
I've been undressed by kings and I've seen some things
That a woman ain't s'posed to see
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me

(this part is spoken...) Hey, you know what paradise is? It's a lie.
A fantasy we create about people and places as we'd like them to be.
But you know what truth is?
It's that little baby you're holding, and it's that man you fought with this morning,
the same one you're going to make love with tonight. That's truth, that's love.

Sometimes I've been to cryin' for unborn children
That might have made me complete
But I, I took the sweet life and never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet
I spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that cost too much to be free
Hey lady, I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me
I've been to paradise - never been to me
(I've been to Georgia and California, and anywhere I could run)
I've been to paradise - never been to me
(I've been to Nice and the isle of Greece
While I sipped champagne on a yacht)
I've been to paradise - never been to me
(I've been to cryin' for unborn children...)
(fade)