an open letter to neal pollack

Dear Neal,

Having a kid is a big change in your life, isn’t it? Yeah, you have a son. I’m sure that’s interesting. By which I mean interesting…to you. Not us. And not anyone else.

I’m sure you had a good line of reasoning for inflicting your godawful book/glorified blog project Alternadad on the world. Because if there’s a logical next step after being an annoying hack writer who writes entire treatises while gazing lovingly at his own navel, it’s being an annoying hack writer who stares lovingly at his kid’s navel.

Let’s face it: writing is a tough business to break into. Especially when you’re a talentless douchebag. That’s why you needed a gimmick. Here’s a hint: a baby is not a gimmick. It’s a scourge on humanity. AND IT’S YOUR FAULT IT EXISTS.

Wow, you dressed your kid in a Ramones T-shirt? How edgy. You can buy Ramones T-shirts in those souvenir shops in Times Square. They keep them on the rack next to the plastic Statues of Liberty. It’s not bad enough that you have to be a “cool” parent, but you feel the need to tell the rest of us how fucking cool you think you are. Ever heard the expression “the lady doth protest too much”? Maybe if you brushed up on your classic literature instead of writing posts about how awesome you are for buying your kid an iPod before his hearing has fully developed, you’d learn that anyone who has to keep telling you how cool they are is, in fact, a complete fucking tool.

You are not the first person to ever have a kid. Furthermore, you didn’t even have to do anything. Your wife (remember her? the one who had to be pregnant with the little rugrat you keep rhapsodizing about?) now has to clean up after two kids. You’re the reason that tickets sold out to the Arcade Fire show, because you had to get two extra seats for the kid and his stroller. You do know that he’s going to rebel against you one day, right? You know that he’s going to write a tell-all book someday about how you were so obsessed with proving you were a cool parent that you didn’t have time to…you know…parent?

You are the reason that people who have kids buy perfectly good apartments in the city instead of going to the fucking suburbs where they belong. You are the reason people buy “Daddy and Me” matching hoodies from Brooklyn Industries. You are the reason people take their children out on the streets where we can all see them instead of keeping them in cages, the way Nature intended.

Best wishes,

Ruby Stoneheart