Why We Must Ban Jen Mann's Book

If you know me, you know that I'm a tireless warrior in pursuit of an improved society. The first step should be requiring people to pass a simple written test before they are allowed to reproduce. The test would include such questions as:
  • Is it okay to sell drugs while running an in-home daycare?
  • Does appropriate parenting include yelling at my child to "Get me a fucking beer!"?
  • Is the best way to keep a baby from screaming to shake them really hard until they stop?
If the applicant answers yes to any of the above questions, then the answer is: No, you may not reproduce. In just a few generations, we could have a vastly better world.
But here's another thing that might help - we need to ban this book...

If we don't, here are the penalties we'll face for our lack of vigilance.

Swingers will take over the world.

Everyone will want to become a swinger, which could result in an additional population from people who shouldn't be spawning. That's what will happen when people read this book, because the irresponsible author makes swinging sound irresistibly attractive. Example from page 48:
Holy shit! This was no ordinary Fourth of July party with co-workers. These people were swingers! And not hot ones. God, why are swingers always so gross? Why is it always fat old men with ponytails and wrinkled women with fake boobs? ... I ran into the house and quickly found the Hubs hoovering appetizers off the food table. "They're swingers! They're swingers! Red alert! They want to have sex with us!" I grabbed the Hubs' plate and threw it in the trash. "Stop eating their food! We can't owe them anything. We cannot be in their debt. They will want to be paid in blow jobs!"
"What the hell are you talking about, Jen?" the Hubs asked, starting another plate of food. 
"Put down the food and listen to me! I just got invited into a threesome with Maryanne and some old douchebag who isn't wearing a swimsuit!" 
"You did? Is there anyone good for me?" the Hubs teased me. 
"Shut up. This is serious. We need to go! These people might rape us!" 
"No one is going to rape us. They're too old and too drunk. We can totally fight them off. Besides, this pasta salad is delicious."

Fashion will die. 

The author's confused and ill-suited outfits will spread like disease. In this excerpt, she finds herself dressed in "full-on fleecy jammies with matchy-matchy top and bottoms... Pink with black bunnies" while face-to-face with stylish moms and her child's principle:
Now I was frantic to get away. I couldn't let the Dolce moms see me in my fleecy jammies. I didn't have much of a reputation to uphold. I'm usually up at the school in ill-fitting cargo pants and shirts with permanent food stains across my bosom - it's like a shelf where I can store leftovers I'll never eat.

Mommy drug rings will grow.

In this passage, Mann practically provides step-by-step instructions for how to incorporate an illegal drug distribution business in with your regularly scheduled playdates:
I've only met one superuser. Adolpha broke her arm when she was five, and it required surgery. She was prescribed something fairly heavy-duty to numb the pain and help her sleep. After a few weeks, I received a text message from a mom I know (aka the superuser). 
Superuser: How is Adolpha feeling? 
Me: Much better, thanks. 
Superuser: Oh good! Did they give her anything for the pain? 
Me: Yes, we have a prescription to help her sleep, but she stopped needing it a week ago. Tylenol is doing the trick now. 
Superuser: Oh good! Any chance she has any leftovers I can buy from you? I have a terrible migraine and I could use something to help. 
I was stunned. I wanted to write back: What the fuck, lady? Did you just offer to buy my child's pain meds? 
I chose not to respond to the text. I just ignored it. Then a few days later I got another one. 
Superuser: I don't know if you got my last message. I need to buy Adolpha's leftover pain meds. I've got an awful toothache and I can't get to the dentist this week. My dentist would totally prescribe something for the pain, but I just can't get there, so it's just easier if I pay you for Adolpha's. Would fifty bucks work? 
I ignored her again. I didn't know what to do. Luckily she wasn't someone I see on a regular basis, so at least I didn't have to see her in the parking lot at school and have her ask me face-to-face to sell her drugs illegally. After another few days passed I received the final text message from her. 
Superuser: Hey, just so you know, I was totally kidding about buying Adolpha's meds. It was just a joke. You can stop being all weird and judgy now.
Worst of all, the spread of this book might promote logic and a sense of humor within its readers. It needs to be banned.

Let's stay safe, people. And whatever you do, do not READ THIS BOOK.

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