As listeners of The Podfathers know, today is a big day in the Casa de Clem. In about an hour, a doctor will inject a needle through my scrotum that has been freshly shaven by my Manscaped Lawn Mower 3.0 (promo code Clem for 20% off + free shipping) and annihilate the duct that sends sperm to my urethra AKA my vas deferens. That may sound rough to some people. But parents of children know that while a little bit of physical pain is temporary, adding another kid to your litter hurts every single aspect of life for at least 18 years. I love each of my children with every inch of my overworked heart. But if a third Clem kid entered the world, I would have to leave it because I'm not ready to deal with a newborn again. Or an infant. Or another toddler. Or a child of any age. Two is more than enough for my feeble brain to handle and if I created another life, I would probably have to take own, which I know my guy Thanos would love.
I fully realize my place here at Barstool. I am not going to captivate tens of thousands of people with incredible comedic timing while opening boxes or playing a video game older than my 5-year-old daughter. What I can do is give some common man perspective to a procedure that any dad with a brain should consider once they hit their happy number of kids. If it was up to me, I would film all of this with a camera crew and give a very detailed description of what I was going through. But the coronavirus fucked all those plans up along with the entire world.
So if anyone wants to follow along in my journey, I will be detailing it all on The Podfathers Twitter and Instagram handles with the assistance of Large who will be driving my swimmers to their final destination before discussing every gory detail on next week's podcast.
Play us out, Sarah!