I love kids. In fact, I love kids so much I have roughly 27 of them scattered all over the country. (There could be more... I'm highly regarded for the potency of my seed.) The downside of having spawned so many illegitimate children is having to appear on The Maury Povich Show for one of his many "Paternity Test Results" episodes. IT'S AWFUL! Every time it's the same thing: My former lover poop-talks me for 20 minutes, then Maury brings me out on stage. The audience boos me and then Maury opens the DNA results envelope and says one of two things: "Humpy... you ARE the father," or "Humpy... you ARE NOT the father." All things being equal, I prefer the latter response—even though the girl may be in tears, I can show the audience my kickin' dance moves! (For a great example of someone doing this, go to YouTube.com and search "I Love Maury"—you won't regret it.)

Anyway, kids are great... except when they aren't. Children may look super cute—which makes it all the more horrifying when they're screaming at the top of their lungs and pelting you with scissors. And when you say stuff like, "Ow...Ow... OWWW!?! Goddammit, Celeste! Stop throwing scissors!" they're all like, "Screw you, old man! We're part of the 'Now' generation!" Eventually they'll get bored of sticking you with sharp instruments and run off to listen to their rap music—but what about you? The holes may heal, but emotional wounds last a lifetime.

Now, this was news to me, but apparently you can't whip kids with belts anymore. (Thank god my poor father didn't live to see these dark times. He'd go through two belts a week on me.) So now that retributive violence is off the table, where can an abused parent turn? The answer: a NANNY. But watch out: There are good nannies and bad nannies. An example of a good nanny would be Mary Poppins—who, I'm sorry, is super HOT! Plus she flies around via a magical umbrella... which means the pigs can't pull her over for not strapping the kids into a car seat.

On the other hand, a bad nanny runs to the newspapers and tells them how you had sex with them—such as in that poor Jude Law's case. And naturally, you never want to hire anything remotely resembling Fran Drescher, whose laugh sounds like a parrot bouncing around inside a wood chipper.

AH!! But the best nanny of all is the lovably plump Jo Frost from ABC's Supernanny (Mon 9 pm), who can lick any kid's scissor-throwing problem tout de suite. However, unless you love migraines, I can't recommend the first half hour, which is 30 minutes of screaming, profanities, and dish breaking. Seriously! That show is like a snuff film starring midgets! But when Jo steps in to save the day? The parents (and the viewers) are so freaking relieved that the scissors have stopped flying they generally break down in tears.

So if you can't afford your own Mary Poppins, give Supernanny a try. Take it from my dad: It sure beats buying a new belt every week.