I Hate Siblings

Lately I have been thinking that I really hate siblings. This is a new feeling for me as I've previously always wondered what it would be like to have siblings. A brother or sister to console, confide in and control. A little human fodder in the war with the folks. Someone to blame when the fish turns up dead on the living room rug or the dog is found frozen in the treehouse unable to get down or the cat is discovered ground up inside the lawnmower. (I was a problem-child). Anyway, you need siblings to be there for you when you have no friends, or when you have problems the folks can't know of. You need them to just be there, really. This had always been my reasoning. After all, is being an only child not the loneliest thing in the world?

"This nuclear winter has been the loneliest nuclear winter."

Now, you might say that, on the contrary, it's not so great, that siblings can be a pain but let me tell you this; being an only child comes with its own set of problems. You get all the attention from your folks. There is always extra money to buy you whatever you might want. There is never fighting over who gets the bigger slice of cake, the nicer toys, the defter beatings. No, it's no charmed life. You are sure to grow up an entitled, self-absorbed douche-bag. Having experienced none of the adversity of competition, of deficit for every little meaningless thing, griping every step of the way - without some bullshit to fight over - it's such a bore. Would it not make life that much more interesting to win the prize than to be spoon-fed indiscriminately? Otherwise you are sure to be a spoiled snot-nosed brat:

"Yo check it out, dog, that bird is all angry and shit!
..Nah I got this shit nigga, and what did I just tell you about touching my shit?"

And that is part of the reason why I have always wanted brothers and sisters. Because I respect the value of closeness and the intimate responsibility of consanguinity. I have family values coming out the ass. Plus, it's not healthy to indulge a kid. Without rules, borders, beatings and the occasional Ambien-laced Hot Pockets so mommy and daddy can get it on in private, the kid is bound to get out of hand - over-privileged, self-obsessed, insufferable, armed with nothing but a one way ticket to Maury's maladjusted couch of televised scorn:

"And your producer promised me one snack of my choosing, so..."

It is well known that a large family with many children helps develop - technically speaking - a high degree of "can-do attitude" and "go-for-it gusto" due the extensive support structure resulting from the intimacy dynamics of a dozen dumb-ass kids who look just like you and refuse to shut the hell up all the time.

"This year our stockings accept personal check and money order only."

These kids are going to be hard-headed, contentious bastards. And that is exactly what it takes to make it in today's world. You can just tell they will grow up real fast. You have to develop a certain resourcefulness to beat out your siblings and excel in the world, especially when your mother is a cold-blooded, poison-lipped, opportunistic gremlin who spends all your hard-borne welfare money on face-lifts and holiday-themed lingerie. You've got no choice but to murder...or band with your countless siblings and start "making it," for instance, by churning out iPhone apps to pay for food and clothing or by charming the bell-bottoms off of suburban America:

"Get happy or you and me we're gonna have big problems."

But, recently, I have been thinking maybe I don't have it so bad. As I said, I've come to hate the idea of siblings and I can't quite pinpoint why. I think part of it is that as an only child, a parent's energies are always focused on you. You are the only one there to teach, to nurture, to blame for ever being born and derailing a burgeoning career in broadcasting. You get all the benefits of your parents' undivided attention. I know what you are going to say, but before you go dismissing this all as "white-people-problems," consider this:

Humans think they're so goddamn smart!

But the best part is that, as an only child, you get to pass high-handed judgement on other families, to look down on their motley of smelly kids. You see all the siblings roll into homeroom period in identical T.J Max outfits, smelling like Pall Malls and Clorox Bleach. You see them at lunch sadly removing identical pastrami sandwiches from identical greasy brown bags. You snicker at their quaint adversity and quietly laugh at their collective misfortune. At least they have each other, right? What a joke. Better to be alone than a sad clone. In the end, all that matters is that you are one of a kind. You go home and cry alone in your room and no pipsqueaks barge in to confront or distract you from your well-deserved angst. Everything is better when you don't need to share or explain.

"Hey you don't see me crying, fag."

 You said it Fonzy! Everyone else is fags. You are one of a kind. Now go show us how to jump the shark.