Oh, internet. Just when I think I’ve seen it all, you show me something wonderful and new.
Diary of An Unborn Child was conceived anonymously (just like me!) and published by some Jehovah’s Witness rag in the year of our lord 1980. It is the first person narrative of a developing fetus who can’t wait to be born, but, unbeknownst to him, is actually headed for that great uterus vacuum in the sky.
No one wanted to claim responsibility for the bastard, until a creepy-ass troubadour came along and adopted it as his own. He set it to music, punched himself in the nuts, and took it on the road. His name was Mark Fox, AKA Lil’ Markie, a repressed child molester locked in a perpetual state of arrested development.
Is it rape if she enjoys it?
This grown man would travel from church to church, performing for adults in his prepubescent falsetto, singing songs about aborted fetuses and alcoholic fathers who still get to go to heaven because they accept Jesus in the end. (The alcoholic fathers, not the fetuses. Everyone knows aborted babies go straight to HELL because they haven’t been baptized.)
The whole spiel is meant to tug on the ole’ heartstrings of you pro-choice heathens, but has (ironically) taken on a LIFE of its own on the internet. It is unintentionally hilarious and extraordinarily creepy. It makes me wonder- what happened to Mark Fox as a child that he chose to regress to that stage of his emotional development? Was that when the bad man touched you, Mark? Was it someone you trusted? Did you cry out in that high-pitched voice, the same one you use when committing your own acts of molestation? Because it’s not you that’s raping those kids. No, it’s Lil’ Markie. He makes you do it. It’s the only way to shut him up, isn’t it?
