My grandfather was born in 1896 as the third son of Lord Fitzright, the Earl of Cranthorpe. Lord Fitzright was at the time her Majesty’s ambassador in Paris. Not much is known of the early years of my grandfather other than that he was a bright student with a knack for languages and athletics. At a very young age he could insult the French, Russian and German dignitaries in their own tongues and could run away sufficiently hard enough to escape a brutal beating. Needless to say he was the apple in my great-grandfather’s eye. As a precaution the Lord insisted my grandfather was to be trained early and thoroughly in handling pistols and swords for the duels that were sure to come on his path.

At age sixteen my grandfather had traveled and studied all over Europe, but he became interested in America. Europe in that time was an old moloch of established structure and almost buried under the weight of its own history. He sent his father a formal letter requesting his seed money so he could book passage aboard the newly finished jewel of the Atlantic, Titanic. Lord Fitzright denied him this, as he felt my grandfather was too young for such an adventure.

My grandfather booked passage anyway, but his limited funds only allowed him a third class ticket. As he was used in dealing with plebeians this did not pose a problem for him.

In Portsmouth he met a young man named Jack Dawson. This Jack was as determined as my grandfather to travel with the Titanic to the Americas, and in waiting for the ship to leave the two became friends. Jack didn’t have a penny to his name, and as the 10th of April 1912 drew closer my grandfather took pity on Jack. After all, coming from a privileged family he soon enough would get his chance to make his mark.

Knowing full well that Jack never would accept his ticket if he offered it to him, my grandfather proposed a pokergame after a drinking binge with Jack and made sure he lost the final hand, including his ticket. In retrospect, this may not have entirely been based on benevolence as he had developed a passionate affair with a nice piece of blond strumpet.

The Titanic steamed off to its meeting with doom without my grandfather, but with Jack Dawson. My grandfather soon forgot all about Jack.

The rest is cinematic history.

The Duggar Family posing in front of their farm

Jim Bob, a failed politician, is glad to have found his niche in breeding and exploiting children.
“Breeding children is not what we originally intended to do with this farm,” Jim Bob says. “At first it was just a by-product of marriage. But since we sold the first series to the Discovery Channel it is our core business. We all do our bit.”

When Jim Bob claims that all the children pitch in he is not exaggerating. The elder daughters help breastfeed the young kids, while the elder sons man the pumping station in the barn where Jim Bob’s semen is extracted and stored.
“After the eight kid I noticed that Michelle was not as tight as before,” Jim Bob says, “so we had to shop around for a solution. I went with a BullSucker 2000 with a custom made suction cylinder. The boys really seem to like it too.”

At first Jim Bob and Michelle planned to let their children breed amongst themselves to make sure the fertility and righteous genes were kept within the line, but current so-called ‘laws’ prevent that.
“If it was good enough for the kids of Adam and Eve to start breeding with each other I don’t see the problem,” Jim Bob says. “But the judge just wouldn’t listen to reason. So I guess we have to branch out and start crossbreeding.”

Their eldest son is the first one to venture on this path and is expecting his first child with his cousin Anna.

“I really like Anna.” Michelle Duggar chimes in. “I hear she has conceived the child the natural way, instead of getting rammed up the vagina with a semen filled EasyWhip after church every Sunday.”

Added Jim Bob, “That’ll do, Michelle, that’ll do.”