Mother’s Day: Big Whoop
I forgot Mother’s Day again just like I do every year. You know what that makes me? Every mother’s dream.
Mother’s don’t want a bunch of bullshit and spectacle for Mother’s Day. They may want it, but for their own sake you should give them nothing.
A woman expecting a present is like a hydrophobic dog waiting for a reprieve on doggy death row. It’s going to be disappointed.
Mother’s Day was created by Hitler to encourage breeding among the Nazi nation. It was called Muttertag to the Nazis. Technically, you can say a day for mothers, or a “Mother’s Day”, was celebrated as far back as ancient Greece, but you can also go fuck yourself.
Muttertag was first declared official in Germany in 1933. Guess what was happening in Germany in 1933. A bunch of Nazi shit was happening. Nazi shit like das Mutterkreuz, a medal given to women who had cranked out more than eight babies. Goddamn, Germany is so awesome.
Water gives you life too. But you don’t take a day every year and fuck with your vacation plans just to pay homage to water do you? I sure don’t. What about your spleen? Where’s National Spleen Day?
As I see it, I celebrated 1,780 Mother’s Days in advance from the age of 0 to 5, when I had no choice in what unmanly things I was being dressed in and what unmanly things I was being made to do. Did someone make me play with a stuffed unicorn in that time period? I don’t fucking know, I don’t remember. But it’s highly plausible and if it happened, I know exactly who to blame.
Mothers.
You don’t need to get your mother cards and flowers and shit. She already knows you love her. That’s how a vagina works. Once you’ve been in it, you don’t have to do any more work to show you care.
It may seem like women love annual gift giving bonanzas: birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Secretaries Day; but actually they hate them. When women are told they might be getting a gift, their over-stimulated muffin-brains start cranking out the fantasies like they’re bailing water from a rice paper canoe. No matter what they get, it could have been bigger, better, and more expensive.
Am I loved enough if I get a new set of pots and pans? Am I loved enough if I get a week-long trip to a Day Spa? Am I loved enough if ten starving African children had to die to get this to me?
A man would never put his mother through that kind of torture.
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That’s true Mother’s day is stupid aside from the e-card I send my Mom? Nada. I think it’s worse if you get married though. If you got married to the type of skeezer that:
1. Does not know how to shut the fuck up
2. Does not agree that men are better than women
3. Actually has the nerve to expect you to buy her a freakin’ diamond for mothers day.
That said, why would any Manly man spend that kind of money on his wife or woman for having a child? Will I get a Rolex for Father’s day because I busted inside her? I’ve never got a damn thing for Father’s day so I say we forget both holiday’s altogether unless it was my son or daughter giving me something in which case I wouldn’t dissapoint my offspring. The best thing about Father’s day is being single and going to a strip joint and giving all the strippers there the love their Father’s never showed them (or maybe did to and opposite extreme).
MEN ARE BETTER THAN WOMEN
My mother is a really great person who has inspired me through all my life, and I don’t have to wait until Mother’s Day to thank her about it. We go out for all-you-can-eat buffets sometimes and many times, I have come home from work to see that she made a new loaf of bread for me.
So why do we need a Mother’s Day for?
To honor and respect mothers? That’s supposed to be done on our OWN time. My mother doesn’t give a shit about the so-called “holiday” either because she already knows I love her.
Kudos to that, right?
FAIL!
Yikes. That’s a problem.
She is a very sick whore.
You’ve got issues.
“You don’t need to get your mother cards and flowers and shit. She already knows you love her. That’s how a vagina works. Once you’ve been in it, you don’t have to do any more work to show you care.”
Why would you love an animal? Why love something that can’t add, cant think, has no dick, and can’t even shop? Women are like cows who let a bull fuck them and then they moan for nine months, and the kid comes slithering out of their skeeve hole. Don’t romanticize childbirth and mothering. It’s a job; they don’t love you; you are nothing but another wallet to them.
A mother loves you only so far as she’s thinking you will support her when your father dies and you are the only man left who will take care of her. Plus, you don’t get to fuck her!!! Why buy her a gift or pretend to care about her?
Mine’s much like Necros above: doesn’t bitch, moan or ask for anything unreasonable. When I call her she’s interested in what’s going on in my life and we share a laugh over the stupidest shit.
You know why she’s like that? Because she’s happy with what life has brought her, and approaches the future with a sense of humor and balance.
How many femi-Nazis, lesbians, and tarty Paris-wanna-be’s can say the same? Zippo!
One of the reasons I really love my mum, she never asks me for gifts on Mother’s day and hardly mentions it. Because she knows I love her.
Although i might bring her the occasional flowers, but when I remember.
hahahaha.. god dammit you’re manly..
Another bullseye, Dick. I’m already predisposed to ignore most holidays because I don’t believe in emotional extortion. Hell, I don’t even pay much attention to my own birthday, why the hell should I care about anyone else’s?
Now Father’s Day is coming up, and I’ve been asked what I want. Same thing I always want: To watch the ball game, drink some beer, perhaps putter in the garage — same thing as always. If I want a damn ratchet and socket set, I’ll buy one. I appreciate the thought, but I’ll buy my own tools.
I *do* drink a shot of Jameson’s on James Joyce’s birthday, however, but that’s an exception.
Oh man. Dick, you’re going to score big with this one. I’ll bite first.
My mother was a bitter, vicious, dried-up old bitch by the time she was 25. My first and only Mother’s Day present to her would have been to slap a pillow over her face and put her out of her misery and ours. But of course, she had to undermine me one last time by dying peacefully in her sleep before I could muster up the stones. Shitting me out didn’t entitle her to fuck me up. Nice work, ma. What a legacy. Still, in the end she saved me a murder charge and I suppose that’s something.