I came across this product today in my neighbor’s Cosmopolitan magazine. While I think that this product (brought to you by Identigene) will be extremely helpful on the East coast in particular, I can’t help but think about my beloved MoPo. I really hope a sales spike in home DNA tests will not cause the end of Maury Povich’s paternity bonanza. Although, the skanky ho baby holders on “the Po” probably couldn’t afford the price tag on a test like this…there is hope after all.

I hope it at least comes with a “You are NOT the father” button you can wear with pride.

ON A SIDE NOTE: And TOTALLY off the subject. This has gone way too far. I’m not knocking the show Glee because it stars the very hilarious Jane Lynch but really guys. This song/dance has now officially been done to DEATH!!

Seanie Mic, maker of I Love Bayside, throws on a Slick Rick record and a mock turtleneck, giving you people a little daytime story about Maury.

Overheard on the Russ Par Morning Show: A DNA test has proven that Eddie Griffin is not the father of the 10 year old child he has been sharing joint custody of w/his ex-wife.  Who KNOWS what the story is behind that one is, but here are a few thoughts…

Why did he get the DNA test?? I know that may seem like a fucked up question to ask in spite of everything going on, but 10 years in—would you really want to be anything BUT the child’s father??

I’m not excusing her actions in the least, but there’s a disappointing element to that on his end as well.

Thanks to Juno, Jamie Lynn Spears and Bristol Palin, 2008 was the year to be a teen mom. In 2009, we are seeing a different kind of trend. This year has already seen two popular children’s cartoon characters give birth to babies. Many family and parenting advocates across the United States have dubbed this the babies having babies controversy of 2009.

Children’s cartoon character Bob the Builder is at the forefront of this controversy. Bob is currently being accused of impregnating both Dora the Explorer and Buttercup from the Power Puff Girls during what the girls describe as an Ecstasy-induced threesome last spring. Both Dora and Buttercup gave birth this month; however, Bob is now adamantly denying that the children are his. All three parties recently appeared on Maury Povich to find out once and for all if Bob is the father. Twisted Celebrity has obtained part of the transcript from this episode, which isn’t scheduled to air until June 6, 2009…check it out!

Dora: Maury, I am here today to prove that Bob the Builder IS the father of my twin sons.

Maury: Why is Bob denying that he fathered your twin sons?

Dora:I have no idea Maury. I think he is missing some screws in his drill cuz those babies is his. I mean they were born wearing hard-hats and holding hammers. They look just like his dumb ass!

Maury:Buttercup, what did Bob say when you told him that he was the father of your daughter, Margarinecup?

Buttercup: Oh Maury, Bob was hatin’. He was trying to play all cool carpenter – like he ain’t my baby daddy. But he knows that I was a virgin before I hooked up with him on his workbench.

Maury:So he’s completely denied little Margarinecup?

Buttercup:Yeah. He was like ‘You got the wrong Bob cuz I know you been hooking up with Sponge Bob Square Pants.’ He’s tripping, yo. I ain’t never been attracted to no yellow sponges.

Dora: Damn! He accused me of getting with Sponge Bob too. And he knows that I ain’t never hit that!

Maury: Dora, do you regret being romantic with Bob the Builder?

Dora:I kind of do. I mean I love my sons and all, but before Bob and I got busy, I was a free girl. I was able to do all the exploring I wanted. Now, I had to replace my backpack with a double baby carrier and it looks straight up wack!

Maury: Buttercup, what would you like to tell Bob the Builder today?

Buttercup: I want to tell him that he needs to take care of his kids! He needs to man up, tighten his tool belt and pay me, today!

Maury: Well here’s your chance…Bob the Builder, come on out!

Welcome Bob. What do you have to say to these ladies?

Bob: These ain’t my kids, Maury. They don’t even look like me. These hoes are lying.

Dora: Bob, you know these babies is yours. You came to my house, undid your suspenders and impregnated me. Own up fool!

Bob: Maury, she is a straight up liar. I’ve talked to many of my friends who have said that they slept with her too.

Maury: Like who?

Bob: Well for one, Sponge Bob took his square pants off and hit that. Oh and Elmo from Sesame Street got on that too. I also heard she swings both ways…ask her about Barbie, Maury.

Dora:You is such a liar! You know I’m strictly dickly.

Buttercup: See Maury, this is what he do. He make up silly ass lies to hide the fact that he IS the father of our kids!

Maury: Well, let’s find out the truth right now (envelope).

In the case of Dora the Explorer’s twin sons, Bob the Builder, you ARE the father…

Maury:In the case of Buttercup’s daughter Margarinecup, Bob you ARE the father.

Buttercup: I told you, you was the daddy tool man!

Bob: Maury, I don’t believe it. I want a redo. I was nervous.

Maury: Sorry, Bob, but this isn’t a lie-detector test – It’s a paternity test and DNA doesn’t lie.

Bob really can build it all…even babies!

Yeah, it’s yet another meme!
Well, it’s not used much because of it’s own limits… watch the video:

Really happened on yet another one of those shows with paternity tests.
But this time, the supposed father became a little too happy about being proven “not guilty”. xD
This meme, or a animated gif version, or even modified versions with other characters dacing just like him are used to display utter happyness, oftenly because of something politically wrong.
The following words might accompany this meme:
YOU ARE THE WINNAR!!!
GREAT SUCCESS!
And similars.

MAAAUUURRRYYY!!!

YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER

So Father’s Day has come and gone, with the below-standard attention paid to it as usual before we each went on with the rest of our lives. It’s a pity that such an integral component in the life of a well balanced child receives only 24 hours of acknowledgment before it’s back to man-bashing business as usual. Father’s Day is barely a head nod to the tune of the man-made “holiday” beat, when compared to such notable dates as Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, or even Baskin-Robbins Free Scoop Night. But still, at least some time is taken to honour the Y-chromosome which helps create future generations, although it falls extremely short in illuminating just how important father’s are — whether involved, detached, or completely MIA — to healthy development. At least we don’t kill them and eat them the way the Black Widow does.

For many years my mother used to demand that she be the one to receive kudos when the third Sunday in June rolled around each year, because it was she, not my father, who shouldered the bulk of raising my brother and I. I played along, cause it seemed logical enough, but there was always an odd feeling inside when I wished her a happy Father’s Day while my father was very much a part of my life.

When I became a mother in 1990, I accepted the well wishes as my mother had, because I too was a single mother, and believed, like she did, that I’d earned the right to claim autonomous credit for raising my daughter (her father was around but… well, we were young, you know how that goes). I continued this tradition after the birth of my three son’s as well. The way I saw it, since I put in the long hours, accepted the low pay, and was held accountable for every failing, ailing, and shortcoming my offspring fell into, I more than paid the cost to be recognized as mother and father, and dared any mother’s son to call me on it. In eighteen years I have struggled through doctor’s visits, dentist visits, ER visits, nightmares, boogie man fears, child insomnia, skinned knees, super glue in eyes, parent-teacher conferences, grass stained pants, chicken pox, hyper-active reactions to the sight of a needle, shoes and clothes being grown out of two minutes after I spent my last dime on them, people looking down their nose at me for being a teen mother, heartache, heart break, headaches, and the ever nerve wrecking “Momma Can I” syndrome. I was the one who sat up through late night fevers, had to have “the talk”, boosted selfish esteem when “Little Johnny/Little Janie called me stupid/ugly/dumb/dark skinned/light skinned/buck toothed/four eyed/*insert other hurtful childhood labels here*, and I alone was the one who had to deal with the irritating men I chose to conceive children with. Hell, for all that, I reserved the right to take Grandparent’s Day, Secretary’s Day, and Christmas too! All my single mothers… ya’ll feel me, right?

Can you just see the legions of single mothers with their hands on their hips, necks doing that “sistah” thing, and smacking their lips with an affirmative “Uuuuuh Huh”? Well before you ladies get too deep into wanting to slap me a high-five, let me inform you, I’m no longer a member of the “I’m the Daddy Too, Dammit” Sisterhood. No, I didn’t get married (although I did twice, but both times I still maintained the single mother title… ‘nother story for a ‘nother day, as always), and no my children’s fathers didn’t step up to the plate, man up to their stations and pick up the slack (well, one kinda did, but… not really). What happened was, I woke up one morning and shed all my delusions about my limitations and realized that no matter how “kick ass” I was in the maternal department, there is absosmurfly nothing I can do to replace a father’s role in a child’s life. It doesn’t matter if he’s absent by choice, circumstance, or horrible accident, or being a part-time dad, there is nothing within or without that can transform me into a woman worthy enough to fit his shoes. Part of that reason is, I am a woman… a mother… a nurturer and a giver. I was created to be maternal and that is the role I personify daily. I am one half of what is meant to be a whole, and there is nothing that can compensate for that other half once it is not in place. I wasn’t meant to do it and so I stopped operating in bitterness to try.

Don’t look this Word Picture sideways, sistahs. I will admit that when it comes to holding down home and hearth, and raising little ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing more up to the task than a mother. But riddle me this, ladies. When your daughter comes crying because some little boy broke her heart, who’s better equipped to explain or show that’s it’s cause the little boy is stupid and doesn’t know any better, you… or someone who was once a stupid little boy who didn’t know any better? And when your son comes to you wondering about certain “growing pains” in parts a lot of us women proverbially have yet physically lack, who better to let them know they’re not going to die, because they lived through it… us, or “them”? Those are pretty obvious examples, but you should get the gist. There is a side of life biological fathers have to offer their children that we can never duplicate because we are not men and thereby can’t be fathers… literally or figuratively. We are strong, but that type of strength just isn’t in us.

And for those of you who’s baby’s poppa’s are rolling stones that you saw fit to kill off in Desert Storm or Vietnam, don’t discredit them for the part of life they too are showing their offspring. As I said in a previous Word Picture about my own father’s distance while I was growing up, he taught me the value of my own strength, the type of person I didn’t want to be, the type of man I did not want to have (although I learned that lesson a bit “late”), and the type of parent I did not want to become. I learned to love unconditionally and when to place conditions on the love I granted. I learned that a man is not to be wholly depended on, because it causes your independence to diminish, and I learned the definitive difference between what it is to be a daddy and a father (he’s always been my father, he didn’t become my daddy until I turned 28). And I learned all of these things because despite her insistence of being honoured on Father’s Day every year, my mother allowed me the opportunity to see my father for who he was, not through the eyes of her disenchantment with him. So again, don’t discount the invaluable lessons even the absentee father’s are teaching their children, which also plays a role in his importance.

In addition to all that, when you deny a man’s place as father, actively or passively, you deny your child his or her opportunity to see the other half of themselves in the same way they are able to see you — not simply because you are there 25/8, but because they are offered a more unbiased view of you, and are allowed the space to formulate their own perspective and opinions of just who/what mother/mommy is. This gives them the ability to see themselves in you and to be able to pick and choose which parts of that model they will emulate when they become adults. Whether you’re a SAHM like me, or a corporate mom juggling a full-school load, they have their examples of you placed in their sight every day, and like my mother told one of my biggest detractors (other than herself), it’s the children who will judge how good you were at your job, and if they want to be like you when they grow up. If for no other reason than helping them grow into masters or mistresses of their own fate, allow them the same right to do so with their fathers, apart from any tension or animosity you may personally hold towards the man/men. Afterall, it is their relationship with their father’s, not yours, that is affected by his example.

So in conclusion, it’s way past prime time that we give the Dad’s in our world their just due. Whether they are truly daddies who give as much as us mothers to the cause, or just father’s who passed the time by passing seed, one way or the other they are fulfilling their destined roles as the flip side to the paternal coin. And while we don’t have to respect the ways they go about it, their place should be honoured regardless. If you can look beyond the person and whatever personal “beefs” you may have for him, and on into the role, it’ll be a lot easier for you, and for your children.

Be Blessed & Be Light…

Dr. Victorine

‘

I’m LAZY today. I’m not even really trying. it’s ok.

Love the dance on this guy. It’s like a fucking game show. He just won on Maury.