Ah, spring again, a time of rebirth, hope, blah, blah and blah, and talk around the house is once again about perhaps trying our hand at reproducing ourselves.

The problem, I patiently explain while on hold with Comcast to order the Major League Baseball package, is that there’s no time to work on that now that the season is getting under way and I’m about to embark on at least six — hopefully seven — months of obsessively following my favorite team in the American League — the Boston Red Sox — and my favorite one in the National League — the Chicago Cubs.

There’s been no choice for me in rooting for these teams, no concerted effort to court misery. I grew up near Boston and now live in Chicago. I play the cards I'm dealt.

But it will be different for my future children. I want them to be happy. I want them to know that not all hopes that go up must eventually come down.

Yes, my future children will be brought up as Yankees fans. And I will despise them.

It makes me as sick to write that as it does for you to read it, especially since I'm confident the Cubs and Red Sox will meet in the World Series this year. But, again, I am thinking only of my future children's long-term well-being.

So, I'll hold my nose and buy my children blue pinstriped bed sheets, “Derek Jeter's How to Smirk Like a Pro” instructional video and whatever else it takes to turn them into blissful Yankees fans.

Sure, my children, like Yankees fans the world over, will grow up to be obnoxious, arrogant and completely clueless as to how loathsome they are. I know that after they reach the age of 5 or so, I won't be able to be around them and will have to ship them off to boarding school. Call it smarm school.

But wanting to like your kids is selfish; wanting them to like their own repugnant selves is noble.

In that spirit, I will devote all my parenting energy — going well beyond teaching them what sports teams to root for — to ensure that my children grow up to be all-around selfish, boorish winners in the game of life.

And so . . .

— They will be raised Republicans (and not the kind who go off and write nasty books about the Bush administration because they feel the need to do something as insignificant as tell the truth).

Yes, my firstborn will sleep in my home's “Reagan Bedroom”; all my kids will be taught to steal money from, not pledge it to, NPR; and instead of having plastic pails and shovels for the beach, they'll get plastic drills for the Arctic Wildlife Refuge.

— Physical strength for the express purposes of intimidation will also be a key value. I will force my children, from the day they're born, into the weight room, and I will put a row of lockers in my home that they'll have to shove me into every night — or no dessert!

— They will be literally taught it’s a dog-eat-dog world by being forced to feed poodles and Pomeranians to our pet coyote.

— They will be instructed to never shop at Wal-Mart, but their schooling (private, of course) will be geared toward them someday landing upper-management jobs at Wal-Mart’s corporate headquarters. On second thought, perhaps casino management lies in their future.

— They will be taught to advance their social status at school by teasing other children and applying expert titty twisters — without crossing the fine line of bullydom that gets one sent to a special school.

These tips, dear reader, can be used by all parents and are free to all. Pslease, if you love or plan to love your children, clip and save this column.

(Mark Bazer can be reached at mebazer@yahoo.com.)

(c) 2004 mark bazer, Distributed by Tribune Media Services, Inc.