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 son. Mother’s don’t want a bunch of bullshit and spectacle for Mother’s Day. Well, they may want it, but for their own sake you shouldn’t give it to them. Here’s why.

A woman expecting a present is like a hydrophobic dog waiting for a reprieve on doggy death row. It’s hysterical, it’s frantic, it’s frothing at the mouth and slobbering all over the place, but most importantly, it’s going to be disappointed.

Mother’s Day was created by Hitler to encourage breeding among the Nazi nation. Did you know that about your precious Mother’s Day? It was called das Muttertag to the Nazis and they celebrated the shit out of it. They celebrated it so much that they made it an official holiday. They even gave out medals like das Mutterkreuz, to women who cranked out more than eight kids.

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. Look at the dates. I’m about to do some serious deducing here motherfuckers, so stand back. Mother’s Day was celebrated all throughout history, but the first people to celebrate it in the second week of May were the Nazi’s.

Suck it, moms.

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 know, I can’t remember that shit. But it’s highly plausible and if it happened, I know exactly who to blame.


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.