Speaking of babies, Sparky’s got a new one of his own – Gina – and she’s beautiful.

More and more often lately, I think about having kids.

The thing is – I don’t really know if I want to raise kids. I don’t have the money and I can’t imagine myself ever having the money. And then there’s the time and energy. And they turn into rebellious teenagers.

So I don’t know if I want to raise kids – but sometimes I want to have them. I want to pass on my genes. I want to leave something that lives on after I’m gone – a bloodline that emanates from me. I don’t want to just be someone’s uncle, an offshoot on someone else’s family tree.

More practically, I also wonder, years from now, about dying old and forgotten in a nursing home — assuming that (1) I live a full lifespan, (2) there are still such things as nursing homes in the mid-21st century, and (3) our robot overlords haven’t taken over by then.

Theoretically I could become a sperm donor, either anonymously or to a lesbian couple. But I’d feel weird about contributing my genes to a child and yet not having any rights to that child. Which I know contradicts the desire not to have to raise the child.

These are all just amorphous thoughts that have been going through my head lately.

This particular excerpt from Alberto Gonzales’s congressional testimony the other day makes me want to slap him upside the head *SO* hard.

More here.