Revealing Stupidity

The cost of Reveal Parties keeps going up, in terms of greenbacks, personnel, and the spectacle vs safety quotient. The principle of the event is clear – a dramatic way to reveal the gender of your unborn child – in the same way Halloween is all about handing out candy. Somehow the antics and explosions of the surprise outweigh the original intent, and a binary outcome is achieved via pyrotechnics and a mess to be cleaned up – much like the actual birth.

They’re a volatile mix of the feminine need to celebrate an ability billions of other women have cakewalked through, and the hillbilly quest for loud, memorable explosions. Some are more memorable than others, like this luggy tool from Michigan who stood too close (15 feet) to the fire. Technically not a “reveal”, but still a case of people juggling knives in a celebratory mood.

We’d like to see these “parties” expanded into more complex revelations – who will win the Superbowl before the season starts, which country is the first to go bankrupt bc Pandemic, or which consumer product will feminists and the Woke next deem fascist? Instead of colorful powder or confetti, a prognosticator would splode a complex heap of cables, LEDs, and recycled rubber, and interpret the results based on the carnage. As long as a pregnant woman is lauded and her pyromaniac husband gets to burn something, we’re good.

_{Story By: TooFab}